Wild Demonic Fauna – Part I
of London and Eastern England

The freezing wind blew a sudden gust that circled over the building: coiling around and then hurling itself against the roof, so that acrid coal smoke from the chimney came back in a grimy rush. Will squeezed his eyes shut and coughed, and thought for the third time about moving. But the wind had lifted the smoke off again so he just squashed himself closer against the brick of the chimney-stack, and shivered. After a second he cast a dutiful glance down into the street.

Three stories below him another creature was huddled, trying to keep out of the wind. At street level the gusts whirled scrap paper and shreds of straw from the nearest stable into malicious little tornadoes; still, it must be slightly warmer down there, Will reasoned. For all that it wasn’t one of the best spots: not by any means. Not somewhere where a little heat leaked out from a baker’s oven or the shelter was actually good enough to keep off the worst of the wind and the rain – all of those were long since claimed by the established street-dwellers. And they would defend them as viciously as Angelus defended his territory. But still, he pondered, she must feel warmer than he did. Must do or she would move. After all, she wasn’t obliged to stay where she was.

His stomach gave an unwelcome stir and he pulled his head back into what scant shelter the angle of the chimney was providing him, and wondered which of them was hungrier. She had looked miserable enough the previous night, when Angelus had first pointed her out to Will as the vampires headed home for the day. Drifting aimlessly along in the last lingering minutes of the dark, she had been, with clearly no idea of where to go or what to do; and casting longing glances at the trays of pastries being carried past on a porter’s head, or stopping to sniff the air outside a squalid cook-shop that was just starting business for the day. Until Will had wondered what human bitterness or human rule broken had driven her to such a case. But she hadn’t been begging, as Angelus had pointed out to him; nor was she desperate enough to give even the slightest tilt of her rather pretty head, to try and gain a coin by the oldest method known to woman. Not then. And she had been dressed in the faded print dress and rough shawl of a country-girl, with the mud of her home still caked on her boots from where she must have walked into town overnight. Give her one long day walking the streets in those boots, Angelus had said, and when someone offered her a bed – she would accept it.

Which was why Will was stuck up on a roof waiting to be the person who made that offer. Waiting until the streets were deserted enough that he could be sure no one would be around to see him make it, nor hear her scream if she should question where he was leading her to.

For the tenth time he ran through his plan, and he could see it all perfectly: He would stroll up to her, pretending to be heading for one of the houses further along the street, then frown as he saw her, changing it to a concerned smile. ‘Excuse me, Miss, is everything quite all right? Are you waiting for the Pembertons?’ Then there would be confusion when she thought he knew the people whose doorstep she was sitting on; acute embarrassment on her part; quickly standing up; apologies; and he stopping her. ‘No, no, I am sure there is no harm done. But pardon me for asking – is it possible you have nowhere to stay tonight?’ More shy explanations, as she twisted her hands nervously, and then he would make the tentative offer. ‘Would you care to spend the rest of the night at my home? I am sure my mother and sister will not mind; and then you can see about contacting your friends first thing tomorrow.’ A little hesitation possibly. ‘It is not far. And my mother will be sitting up, she always likes to have a nice chat with me while I have my supper, after I have been working late at the mission…’

After that it should be child’s-play to persuade her calmly into a cab and get her to the lair without anyone batting an eyelid. Getting a resistant human home alive was virtually impossible if you were by yourself, but he fancied he was getting rather good at the techniques of luring so that they did not resist. He thought he had planned it all perfectly, and was particularly proud of the casual mention of food waiting: that would be sure to swing her. Hunger was a great equaliser.

God he was hungry.

For all he knew she might have had a hearty enough meal last thing before she left her home. Whereas he… He hadn’t fed yesterday because there hadn’t been anything. And on Monday there had only been pigs’ blood, almost solidified despite being warmed up in the kettle, and it always tasted foul even if it was served in the best crystal glasses. Sunday, he had been in trouble with Angelus over that bloody fighting-axe, so he’d been kept short. The day before that… He groaned and shut his eyes; all things considered he felt she was probably the better off. Except of course that he was going to kill her later.

He shivered again and looked at the unchanged street, then fished out his watch and peered at the time: midnight. And Angelus had said one o’clock at the earliest; a fact which Will still had a sharp stinging sensation around his right ear to remind him of, lest he be otherwise tempted to forget and take her earlier.

He slid his back down the wall of the chimney, settling with his knees drawn up, forearms resting on them, nose buried in the thick fustian cloth of his sleeve.

Midnight: witching hour. Dru was probably whirling around some dance floor in the sparkling candle-light and the glow of a warm crowd of admirers, hypnotic black eyes befuddling every man who so much as glimpsed her. Angelus and Darla would be circling along the fringes like wolves, seeking the weak ones of the herd. The drinkers, the gamblers, the babblers, and those who could not hide their desires sufficiently well behind the thick veil of what society demanded of its acolytes. Not that they would ever kill anyone of note – the people at such places were all far too liable to be missed – but contacts would be made, blackmail extracted, information gathered. And there were always a few casual staff and hangers-on at the fringes, who could safely disappear without anyone noticing. Angelus might lure some gentlemen into a disastrous game of cards; Darla might persuade some lady that a pretty, but tiresome, French maid could be palmed off onto her establishment, never to be heard of again. And they would even make their victims feel they were being the clever ones whilst it happened. Or perhaps the three vampires would just enjoy themselves. In which case they had better bloody well pick something up on the way home. He was damned if he was going to do all the work to feed the family. Freezing up on a roof while they had a gay old time of it, not even able to catch a few minutes sleep or let his mind wander in case—

He guiltily stood up to take the three steps along the sloping roof, and peered over the edge once more: still no change. He returned to his place.

Not that he actually knew where the others were. He hadn’t been told – nothing unusual there – just boxed round the ear and set to catch the easy mouse that Angelus had cornered for him, and certainly not allowed to question his elders about where they might choose to spend the night. They had been dressed for a ball though: he had seen that much in the cab, before Angelus and he had got out to find the girl again. Of course he hadn’t contributed much to the finding, his role had been to try and keep up with Angelus whilst the master vampire hunted her down in ten minutes flat – even though twelve hours had passed and she was nearly a mile from where they had last seen her. Then he’d been told to wait until one o’clock before taking her, and the others had rolled off into the night to enjoy themselves without him, with the usual flippant remark about how he couldn’t go anywhere in Society in case he was recognised. ‘But never mind, Will, you don’t really enjoy that sort of thing, now do you.’ They would have found a way for him to go quickly enough if they had wanted him for anything. He’d been sent to escort Darla dozens of times, when she needed someone to carry her shawl and run around fetching her drinks, and Angelus wanted to go whoring in the Haymarket. Bastards. Still, assuming Angelus and Darla did catch someone, plus he would have his little country-girl, and maybe one of the minions would have been lucky as well – by any calculation there should be enough to last them all until the weekend at least. Which might mean Angelus would allow him the night off on Saturday.

He looked at his watch again: ten past twelve.

Dru probably wouldn’t want to go dancing again. But he could take her to the theatre or something. He tried to remember which plays were on, and realised he didn’t know. If he took the girl now there would be time to get to the Strand and catch the stagehands as they finished their shift; maybe bully a couple of tickets for something good out of one of them. The stagehands always had access to a few of the best seats. He rubbed his sore ear thoughtfully. One o’clock hadn’t really meant one o’clock; it was just a sort of guideline. With the wind being so cold it was already as deserted as if it had been one o’clock. Well, if it had been a normal night. And a few minutes either way weren’t going to make any difference.

He opened his watch again and a blob of rain that was more than half sleet immediately fell on its face. He rubbed it clean and another one instantly replaced it. Will swore and cleaned the glass once more, then sheltered it under his cupped hand: quarter past twelve. Angelus wouldn’t expect him home much before half-past one. So plenty of time to take the girl, stash her somewhere, get to the Strand and back – yeh, he could do it: easy as lying.

He grinned and stowed his watch, standing up with a shake of his head to throw the sleet out of his hair, glanced over at the street one last time – already half turned away to head for the drainpipe he was going to climb down by – and he stopped dead.

She was gone.

He couldn’t believe it. She had been sitting there for hours, all damn evening, and she hadn’t moved once. And now just when he was about to take her the silly cow had vanished. He peered up and down the street through the rapidly thickening sleet. No sign of her

Think, he told himself, think!

It was the sleet: that was the problem. She must have given up and gone to try and find better shelter. Sod Angelus and his sodding caution: if he had taken her an hour ago this would never have happened! Which way had she gone, though? Wasn’t there some rule: humans always prefer to walk with their backs to the wind? Only on another occasion Angelus had said a tired human would always go downhill. He groaned, and then determined any decision was better than none and haphazardly decided on the left. He took a few paces back to get a run-up, and leapt for the next building. A scrabble and frantic scramble to regain his balance on the slippery slates, and then he pushed himself off and ran along the roof ridge, trying to check the street below him as he went. He tripped over an ornamental finial and went sprawling, swore, picked himself up, and ran on. Still no sign of her.

Sod this. Never mind that Angelus always insisted that he use the roofs, he was too high up to see properly in this weather. He slid down the slates to the edge, found a gutter, and let himself down, dropping the last ten yards in an inelegant heap when his cold-numbed hands wouldn’t grip properly. He rolled up, looked about again, and ran on, moving faster now he was on the ground.

Where was she? Where the bloody hell was she?

At the crossroads he stopped. Still no sign. The sleet drove into his face and seemed to cut him off from all sense of the city around him. He scented the air deeply, thought he could catch a trace of her, forced himself to check again to make sure, and set off once more.

How had she managed to get so far ahead in such a short time? It was the bloody weather. If it hadn’t been for the weather he would have heard her when she moved. If it hadn’t been for the weather she wouldn’t have moved at all.

He rounded the corner at a lick and almost fell straight over her.

She stared in shock when he appeared at such speed and he quickly made to ignore her, pulling his collar up and running on past and down a side street as if he just had some urgent errand. He sneaked back as quietly as possible and peered round the corner. She was still where he had passed her: standing under a street lamp, talking to a gentleman who was offering her the slight shelter of his umbrella. A client? Had she decided after all that her virtue was worth less than a night on the streets?

The man was stout, warmly dressed in a thick overcoat, hat well pulled down over his ears; he stank of whiskey, expensive cigars, and sex. The girl seemed to smell afraid, delicious spice, but the wind was still gusting and kept catching the scent away from him. The low mutter of their voices was understandable though – the man was indeed propositioning her. And she was being shy: playing coy or genuinely reluctant, Will wasn’t sure, but he could tell she would accept in another moment.

Sodding hell.

The street was larger than the one they had just left, but still blessedly deserted other than the three of them. He needed to do something quickly.

All right… Will tilted his cap back jauntily and walked out, hoping they wouldn’t recognise him as the man who had just run past. He got within a few yards of the couple, then stopped with a theatrical jerk. ‘Maggy? What yer doin’ here?’ he bellowed in an incredulous tone.

The gentleman swung round and glared at him. ‘She’s taken.’

Yes she bloody is, Will thought, but not by you. ‘What’s Muver goin’ to say?’ he demanded of the girl, ignoring the man. ‘Does she even know yer out?’ He strode past the man and grabbed her arm.

‘Get off!’ she squeaked, trying to shake him away. ‘Leave me alone. Who are you?’

‘A friend,’ he whispered in her ear, and her eyes widened. ‘Yer ain’t half goin’ to catch it if I don’t get yer home right now,’ he said loudly for the man’s benefit, pulling her a few steps away.

‘Hands off her, flash-man. She’s mine,’ the man barked, and he threw down his umbrella. Will could have yelled with fury: not a client but a ruddy pimp who thought he had found himself a nice fresh piece of meat, and who wouldn’t be giving her up without a struggle, either.

‘Maggy, come on!’ He yanked her again, but she was starting to try to break his hold. ‘I’ll look after you,’ he whispered again. ‘You can trust—’ A fist appeared in his line of sight, which he dodged easily but he had to drop the girl’s arm. ‘Yer don’t want to try, ponce,’ he said with as much menace as he could muster.

‘Yer don’t say?’ the pimp produced a pistol from his coat pocket. ‘I’ve something that says different. This here’s my patch, and anyone who walks here without my permission ain’t likely to be walkin’ much longer.’

Will sneered, and with a broad grin punched the man in the face before his finger could even begin to tighten on the trigger. The man flew backwards, crashing against the area railings of the house behind them. His arm jerked up and the pistol fired.

The shot echoed in the empty street for a surprisingly long time, with a hollow, dull sound, as the pimp collapsed to his knees, blood streaming down his face from a pulped nose. His eyes met Will’s for an astonished second, then rolled sideways as he slipped unconscious. Will blinked, then came to his senses when he realised the screaming sound was coming from his prey who was bolting away like a frightened rabbit. He was about to start after her when no less than three windows of the surrounding houses were flung open, and the heads of several curious householders appeared and started to shout. Will hesitated another few seconds, as he watched the girl round the corner onto the busy main street, then he took to his heels in the opposite direction.

It started to sleet even harder.

A minion let Will in. He stared stupidly out after Will had entered, and then turned to Will in surprise. ‘Didn’t you catch anything tonight?’

Will growled and punched him straight in the stomach. ‘Shut your bloody mouth, Ruben.’ He swung again but the minion dodged and ran off towards the back of the house. Will snarled after him and stalked over to the drawing-room. He hesitated, then steeled himself and shoved the door open. The room was dark and empty – they weren’t home.

Will chewed on his lip for a second before going in to light the gas and get the fire going. He grabbed the box of matches off the mantle piece, trying not to look there as he did so: Angelus always kept his switch on the drawing-room mantle-shelf.

Afterwards he stayed crouched in front of the fire, holding his hands out to the feeble flame as it licked slowly round the kindling and lapped at the coal, trying to get some warmth back into his hunger-frozen frame. He became aware again of how much his stomach was aching.

It was Angelus’s bloody fault! If he hadn’t been told to wait for so long he could have had her. He rubbed at his ear as if bringing back the sting would somehow prove that it was Angelus’s fault. He had been told to wait – if he hadn’t waited he would have caught her.

He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, then realised that he was still wearing his soaking wet cap and overcoat. He yanked them off and tossed them on a chair, thought better of it, and scooped them up and went upstairs to put them away properly. In his room he stopped and looked at his watch again: ten to one. He shouldn’t even be home yet. He stood for a while clenching and unclenching his fists, staring into space, then plucked a book off the chest of drawers and headed back down to the fire. He sat down in the most comfortable chair and tried to read; after he had turned three pages he accepted he hadn’t taken in a word. He threw the book down, and got up and started to pace.

It was Angelus’s fault. It was.

The fire still wasn’t properly alight: the kindling just smouldering sulkily. It was probably wet – the whole bloody world seemed to be wet. Wet, cold, and not enough to bloody eat. He hunkered down and tried to puff some life into it; succeeding only in extinguishing what flame there was. He swore, snatched a newspaper off the sofa, scrunched it into balls, and pulled the fire to pieces to begin again.

He had used too much paper and it suddenly flared up with a whoosh, chunks of glowing newsprint floating up and twirling like the rubbish had in the street. One large bit drifted into the room and he quickly stamped it out, leaving a black boot-shaped mark on the hearth-rug. He ignored it, and went and sat down, dragging out his watch again and twirling it by the end of the chain, but deliberately not opening it. He twirled it until the chain was twisted up on itself, as taut as it would go, then let it unwind back the other way. Then back again. Twisting round, and round, and glinting in the firelight like some child’s plaything. Or a mesmerists prop.

Trying to alter the future.

He couldn’t bear it any longer and looked at the clock on the mantle: five minutes past one.

Will put his watch away and dragged the chair closer to the hearth, sticking his feet on the fender. After a bit he pushed it back into position and got down on his knees to try and do something about the sooty mark on the rug. Rubbing at it only succeeded in spreading the mess wider, so he yanked the rug around, turning it so the mark was in the shadow of the sofa where it wasn’t so obvious. He eyed it sidelong, then walked to the door and tried to gauge how visible it was from there. After a little thought he went and shifted the sofa, so it was covering the mark, then noticed the side-table was now in the wrong place so he moved that too, and then the chair on its other side. He returned to the door and cocked his head, but it all looked so obviously different that he went and put everything back.

Twenty past one.

He thought he heard a carriage and froze, listening, but it carried on down the street.

He shivered, and went and sat by the fire again, cross-legged on the rug.

Another carriage; Will stood up.

He hovered by the door, took a step into the hall, waited, then straightened up and put his hands behind his back. He dug his nails into his palms as the front door swung open and Darla and Drusilla walked in; followed by Angelus.

‘Hello William.’ Dru ran over and pecked him on the cheek, then ran her tongue over where she had kissed. ‘We went to—’

‘Hush, Drusilla,’ Darla said, with a frown and a sharp little jerk of her head in Will’s direction. Will was watching Angelus.

Angelus had glanced at him then turned away to set his walking cane down on the table, with a sharp click as ebony snapped against marble. He proceeded to remove his hat, gloves, and overcoat at a leisurely pace, before he at last turned back to look at Will, and coldly raised an eyebrow.

Will swallowed. ‘I am sorry, Sire.’

Angelus’s expression hardened. ‘What have you done?’

Will tried to look defiant. ‘Nothing. It wasn’t my fault. Only I didn’t— I couldn’t— She…’

‘Got away,’ Darla supplied icily.

Will bit his lip, still not taking his eyes off his sire.

Angelus turned on his heel and went over to the study door; he unlocked it and held it wide, wordlessly pointing inside. Will grimaced and forced himself to walk over and in. He heard Angelus shut the door with a bang and then walk up behind him; a pincer grip clamped onto the scruff of his neck.

‘All you had to do was wait there and take her – nothing else. It doesn’t get any simpler than that, boy. What happened?’

Will winced and tried to stand still despite the fact that Angelus was beginning to twist his fingers as he dug them in, until it felt as if he was gouging Will’s backbone up through his flesh. ‘I was doing as you told me: I was waiting until one. But she cleared off; there was nothing I could do about it, Sire.’

The grip on his neck tightened, but Angelus himself moved round and appeared in front of Will. Will tried to school his face to stay calm, but couldn’t prevent a flinch when Angelus raised his fist and smacked him on first one cheek and then the other. His head jerked in Angelus’s hold, sending shock waves down his spine; the pressure grew harder and deeper, and the world darkened, red spots flaring before his eyes as Angelus started to shake him. ‘Don’t you dare try to blame me, you little tyke. Now: I am hungry, I am tired, and I am not in the mood.’

‘A-argh… I p-p-please.’ He stuttered with the juddering. ‘I-I-I… d-didn’t—’ the shaking stopped but the room was still reeling, and it was only the hold on his neck which was preventing him from falling.

‘What happened?’

The two words seemed to swim to his brain as if from a great distance, and it took him a while to push them into a structure that his mind could make any sense of. ‘Roof,’ he said carefully at last, ‘I was on a roof. I did keep watching her, Sire. I never took my eyes off her. Then it started to sleet. She buggered off. Then some bloody pimp tried to pick her up, so I had to go up to him, an’ I tried to persuade her away – I was doing it fine – when the pimp pulled a gun and let fire. Next thing I knew half the street had turned up. What could I do? Take her in front of them?’

‘Where did she go?’

‘The main street. She ran – screamed her head off. I couldn’t follow: I would have been seen.’

Angelus glared at him for a hard second, and then dropped his hold with a disgusted gesture. Will swayed. Then his legs buckled and he dropped to his knees, only just catching himself in time. A lofty, distant part of his brain, that was somehow remaining aloof from the creature who was actually having to feel what was happening, wondered if Angelus would give him a few seconds grace to recover. A kick to his stomach settled the matter the other way. ‘You little shit, one thing I asked you to do – one thing – and you can’t even do that. Christ, I can’t rely on you for anything, can I. You useless—’ kick ‘—waste—’ kick ‘—of space.’ Will groaned and curled in on himself. ‘What the devil were you doing on the roof? I will tell you what you were doing: you were lounging around, thinking about anything but your hunting, and trying to keep out of the weather.’

‘Sod off,’ Will muttered.

Another kick. ‘Weren’t you?’

‘No— Ow! Yes. Get off! Yes… Sire.’

Angelus seized him by the scruff again, shaking him with vicious little jerks. ‘So what were you doing on the roof?’

‘I d-d-don’t know w-what you m-mean, Sire. Why shouldn’t I b-be on the r-r-roof? You always make me g-go on the roof.’

‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph!’ Angelus hauled him to his feet, and Will found himself being dragged over to the desk. ‘Stand there.’

Will shook his head to try to clear it; and when he refocused it was to see Angelus had sat down at the desk and was facing him with a sneer.

‘Are you telling me, boy, that you have been almost three years under my tutelage and you have no idea? You go up on a roof to watch in this weather, and you don’t even know why that is wrong!’

Will scowled and rubbed at the back of his abused neck. ‘I didn’t know the weather was going to change, did I.’ Angelus just looked at him. ‘Well I didn’t.’

‘So we can add telling the weather to the long list of things you still can’t do yet. The basic skills of watching prey:’ Angelus began to count them out on his fingers, ‘You put yourself somewhere you can see and hear without being detected. You make sure you are out of sight, and most importantly scent, yourself. You ensure you can make a quick move to either follow your prey if it leaves or withdraw if there is a threat. You stay alert for rival demons or any other danger. And you keep your damn mind on the job!’

‘I didn’t know it was going to snow,’ Will said sullenly.

‘Well why not? It doesn’t just fall out of a clear sky. If you can’t sense the weather, boy, how the devil do you think you will ever learn to sense anything else?’

Will let his eyes glaze as the lecture washed over him. With the desk safely between himself and Angelus, he was prepared to just stand and supply the occasional ‘yes Sire’ or ‘no Sire’ if it seemed required, and otherwise let his mind wander to the miserable hollow in his belly, and the fact that it wasn’t going to be satisfied tonight either.

‘…I am not prepared to feed you for ever, William. If you can’t start to hunt for yourself you shall begin to go very hungry indeed…’

So Angelus and Darla hadn’t managed to catch anyone, after all. And that meant that unless they were very lucky it would be another couple of days before they had anything. The thought was sobering. Unless of course Angelus had something up his sleeve. He often did. Angelus always seemed to be able to produce something if they were really pressed. Will wondered how he did it.

‘…not a game. Hunting is an art form, boy. And one that requires your full attention if you ever…’

Perhaps it was partly magic, Will thought. Angelus certainly knew lots of spells. Or maybe it was some sort of mystical power that only came when you became a master vampire, although Dru seemed to be like that sometimes as well. She could mesmerise people and things. It wasn’t fair really: they all had special powers – why didn’t he?

‘…by taking up an angle from across the street. Because if you would just come out of your damn daydreams and pay attention to what I have been trying to teach you for the last three years…’

Or maybe it was just luck. Or a natural gift that the others had and he never would have. He scowled and glared at his feet. In which case, what was the sodding use of trying if he was never going to be any good at anything?

‘…you seem to think being a vampire is simply about feeding, fighting, and fucking, Will.’

Will’s head flew up. The last phrase was not the sort of thing Angelus usually said, however carried away he might be. He met his sire’s cold stare.

‘Sorry, Sire,’ he ventured.

Angelus shook his head. ‘Go and fetch my hat and coat.’

‘What? Why?’

Angelus growled, and Will quickly gave him a ‘Yes Sire,’ and turned to go.

‘And tell Darla that you and I are going out.’

‘We— I’m coming too?’

‘What, you expect to stay lounging around at home, do you?’

‘Er… no Sire, course not. But aren’t you going to thra— I just thought—’

‘Get out of my sight and do as you are damn well told!’ Angelus bellowed.

Will ran.

Will kept quiet as he trailed along beside Angelus through the slush filled streets. The sleet had passed and the wind died somewhat, but what was left seemed to have developed enough intelligence to work it’s way around under his muffler and down his neck. It wormed its way in with chilly gasps, making his cold muscles even colder. He hunched his shoulders, and scurried to keep up with Angelus’s long stride.

Angelus was heading back in the direction of Will’s ill fated hunting, so he could only assume that they were somehow going to try for the girl again – though he could not imagine how it would be managed. He cast a tentative glance at Angelus and half formed the question on his lips, then thought better of it and shut up.

At last they approached the street, and Angelus paused.

‘Um… she was down there before,’ Will said cautiously. He pointed. ‘She ran that way—’

Angelus knocked his arm down. ‘Do not make obvious gestures.’

‘Ow.’ Angelus glared at him and Will quickly put his hands out of sight. ‘Sorry.’ He scowled. They were standing in the deep shadow of a tall building, and speaking in the softest of tones that only another vampire could have heard, but Angelus was still being as cautious as ever. ‘So we should follow and try to pick up her scent?’

‘What chance do you think you would have? On a busy street? With a hundred other people having gone past since, not to mention carriages? On a bad scenting night like tonight?’

‘Oh.’ Well what was the point of coming all this way if it’s useless, Will wondered.

‘Up on the roof.’ Angelus didn’t wait to see if he was following but leapt straight up onto a low wall, jogged along it, and began to squirm his way up the side of the building. Will watched for a second, with a frown. Was this just to be some obscure punishment? Was he going to be left to freeze on the roof for the rest of the night? He shook himself and quickly followed Angelus: whatever his sire was planning for him, dawdling would not make it any pleasanter.

He rejoined Angelus, who was perched on the small roof of a dormer window studying the street below. ‘So, I left you three houses down on the other side. Where did you wait?’

Will carefully did not point. ‘Two houses further, by the third chimney. I had a good clear view.’

‘Oh yes, William. Indeed. By moving every time you bothered to look – yes you did. That would be why you were so successful. Where should you have been?’

Will pondered: so was that all they were here for? To run through what he should have done? ‘Don’t know, Sire.’ He stifled a yawn.

Angelus stared at him coldly. ‘Well I can see three places that would have done you, boy. You had better be able to find at least one.’

‘At ground level?’

‘Yes at ground level. We have already been through that.’

Will shifted his feet more comfortably and gazed around. What must the people in the houses below them think, he wondered, if they heard noises on their roof in the night? That it was the wind, probably, or pigeons on the slates. He smirked. How many humans laid bait for ‘the rats’ after hearing a vampire on their roof?

‘What are you grinning about, boy?’

‘Nothing. Down by that tree?’

‘Hmm. Carry on.’

‘What – now?’

‘Will, show that you have a scrap of intelligence and behave.’

Will ignored him and cast about for a suitable route down, jumping off the roof without another word. He stamped his way over to the sickly tree on the edge of somebody’s garden, making-believe a show of caution for Angelus’s benefit. Then he proceeded with a pantomime of positioning himself so he could watch the doorstep where the little country-girl had been huddled. He stared blankly at the balled up human shivering in the cold, and glanced at Angelus with a frown. Angelus sauntered up and raised an eyebrow.

‘How did you know, Sire?’ Will asked in awe.

Angelus smirked. ‘Do you want an explanation, or do you want to kill her?’

‘I was going to pretend I was—’

‘I thought you said she had already seen you? It’s too late for fancy lures: just grab her.’

Will grinned. He checked in every direction, scented the air, and listened carefully, then when he was as sure as he could be that everything was safe he streaked, as fast as a vampire could run, over to the girl. She barely had time to see him before he had pounced upon her and sunk his fangs in her neck. One long, heady, wonderful pull: and he felt her flutter under his hands, quivering as he sucked the blood from the artery with demonic force, cutting off the flow to her brain at the same time as he clamped her windpipe shut with his blunt lower teeth; so that within seconds she stilled under him and crumpled into unconsciousness. But for him: the blood rushed like whiskey down his throat to hit his stomach with a whoosh of fire, sending a jolt of pleasure through his whole body. He gasped and bit harder at the gushing wound, shaking his head to rip it open wider. He could feel the blood pouring into him like a warm flood, making his veins hum with power.

A hand landed on the back of his neck. ‘Enough.’

He lingered for one last illicit suck, then reluctantly released her, licking over the wound as he pulled out. Then Angelus pushed in between him and the girl, pressing a cloth down over her neck and tying it quickly in place to staunch the bleeding. He pulled the high collar of her prim little dress higher still, to better hide the bandage. Will licked the last vestiges of blood from his mouth and looked around, slowly returning to the reality of the dull, slush filled street. Angelus glanced at him, checking he was presentable. ‘Go and find a growler.’

Will nodded and ran off towards the nearest cab rank, where hopefully one of the four wheeled growlers, large enough to carry three, would still be plying for trade. When he was three-quarters of the way along the street he stopped abruptly and turned round – sure enough, Angelus was just disappearing in the other direction with the girl, supporting her as if she were drunk or tired. Will waited and watched carefully, determined to avoid a repetition of the embarrassing occasions when he and a cab driver had spent an hour driving up and down trying to relocate Angelus after he had moved his capture. He watched Angelus take her down a turning, and was about to jog off again when a noise somewhere off to his side made him pause.

He had assumed the railings beside him bounded some small park or garden, but as he looked properly he felt a swift tingle down his spine as his eye flicked over first one and then another stone cross: a churchyard.

There was a medium sized church, only a few years old by the look of it and still hideously brash in raw red brick and over ornamented stone. The graveyard was older to judge from the jumble of crumbling headstones, many half buried under a smother of ivy or lopsided in the tufty brown grass of late winter.

The sound came again: a soft chink, as of metal hitting stone. And now he could smell the sour, damp scent of new-turned earth. He peered more carefully through the railings, and in the furthest corner of the churchyard could make out a figure, standing hunched like a lanky heron peering down into the depths, beside a mound of earth. A white hand came up, as if to mop a tired brow, and as it did so the figure shifted slightly and Will could make out the unmistakable silhouette of a spade.

Hell.

Will looked back down the street, but Angelus had vanished. He would be safely hidden by now, waiting impatiently for Will to appear with the cab.

Will dithered, trying to make his mind up as to what to do. Angelus had always impressed upon him that this was the most dangerous stage of any hunt: when the prey was in your possession but not yet safely fetched home; when the risk of disturbance was at its greatest and your ability to manoeuvre most hampered. Any delay was adding to the risk and would count as serious negligence when Angelus reckoned up his sins.

For a second he was tempted to run on and pretend he had seen nothing, just find the cab before Angelus got any more ill tempered. But in his heart he knew there were a limited number of reasons why anyone would be digging in a graveyard at that time of the morning, and Angelus would want to investigate all of them. He braced himself and ran back to find his sire.

Angelus looked surprised when he reappeared so quickly, and then wary as the reason was explained.

‘Stay here. If she comes round knock her out; but if you touch a drop, boy, I shall—’

‘I know. Go on.’ He took the girl from Angelus, and watched his sire give him a hard look before disappearing at speed.

The girl stirred and settled against his arm, but he ignored her. Angelus had chosen a dark side alley that ran between two houses, nestled in just behind the bend of somebody’s garden wall, out of sight to a casual glance. Or it would be easy to pull the girl into a pretend kiss to fool any passing human into thinking they were sweethearts. And there were quick escape routes out each end of the alley, and two, no three, possible other exits across the gardens, should they be needed. Will carefully studied them all, his ears and nostrils alert for any hint of danger the while.

The wind had died, but the air in the last grip of night was turning colder again: a skim of ice beginning to coat the half liquid slush. Will glanced at the sky and with a jolt saw that it was already beginning to pale. He checked the girl’s pulse: faint and deeply buried – she was still far under. But time was no longer on their side.

There was a soft sound behind him and he swung around, alert to attack or flee. The yellow eyes of a cat flared at him from a shed roof, as the creature hissed and arched, its fur standing on end. He hissed back and the cat retreated slowly, one foot at a time, never taking its eyes off him until it reached the edge of its roof when it spun around and fled with a clatter into the night. Will disregarded it and continued to check his surroundings.

The air was sharp with frost, and the soft smell of the sleet had blanketed out the usual stench of the city. The blood reek of the girl was so strong it was almost as much a part of the background as the distant thunder of delivery carts, which rumbled along the busier streets all day and all night. He could scent the warm fuzz of horses nearby, the lingering musk of the cat, and he could still smell the earth in the churchyard. And from the same direction now: Angelus.

Will shifted and lifted his head, trying to catch the drifts. An acrid, sulphurous smell, which to be detectable at that distance must mean Angelus had changed to his demon form. But he could not tell what the master vampire had encountered to necessitate the change. Humans? Yes: several, of differing ages and classes, some long since passed by, some recent, but he could not isolate the figure in the churchyard. If indeed it had been human, because there was the stale scent of demon out there too – rank and venomous, of a type he could not place. It could even be another vampire. But not family. Strange. Dangerous.

The volume of traffic on the main streets was starting to rise, and the first faint cries of porters and street hawkers began calling. The smell of dawn was growing stronger, as the chill lessened with approaching day and the scent of the earth began to rise with it. Somewhere a buoyant blackbird, undeterred by the harsh brutality of the blackthorn winter, opened its throat for a glistening whirl of notes. The air, which had been still for so long, stirred again as a dawn wind whispered past. Will could feel a knot of worry forming in his belly. Angelus?

There was a high-pitched rowling sound building up to a humming yelp, suddenly cut off short. Will tensed, head swinging in the direction of the noise. The rowl again, mixed up with a second one this time, twining together, rising to a hissing yell. Will clenched and unclenched his fists, rising up on the balls of his feet. The stench of demon was overpowering now, and he could hear the thud of feet, the clatter of wood hitting metal. He hesitated a second longer, then dropped the still unconscious girl into the darkest corner and ran towards the sounds.

As he arrived at the churchyard at full pelt there was an explosion of dust almost in his face, and for one appalling second he thought it might be Angelus. Then the cloud settled and he looked through it into the enraged eyes of his sire – who was holding a stake. Angelus must have seen Will, and didn’t seem too pleased about it, but he had no time to react, being already in the process of whirling round to deal with his other assailant: a large, green, crusty demon. The demon made another high wailing sound, and Angelus growled as he sprang at it with teeth bared, at the same time as jerking an elbow up to smash the jaw of another vampire who was coming at him from the side. Angelus and the demon toppled in one direction, the strange vampire in the other. This cleared the way beautifully for a second demon – who charged straight at Will.

Will stood his ground, head lowered, until the last second when he slyly side-stepped and kicked a foot out to trip the lumbering demon, aiming a punch at its head as it came past. The demon was faster than it looked though: it pivoted before he could trip it, and Will found himself flailing off balance. He felt a fist connect with his jaw and was hurled back across a tombstone. He rolled and was nicely back on his feet in time to see the demon leap the tomb and come crashing down on top of him. It grabbed his throat and started to try to throttle him, and with a vague sense of insult Will realised it must think he was human.

He struggled and then remembered the move to get out of a strangle hold, thrusting his arms up between the demon’s and shoving outwards. It didn’t work so he clawed at the demon’s eyes, producing a stream of green mucus and a howl of pain as something knobbly broke off in his hand. He thrust the demon off and dropped whatever part of its ugly features seemed to have snapped, kicked it twice in the face for good measure, and grabbed for the spade, which was standing in the ground beside him. The demon was doubled over, screaming in agony. It was just straightening up with a flail of its arms as he smashed the iron against its neck, sending it sprawling again. He repeated the blow, thinking that whatever species it might be there were few things that could survive decapitation.

If he could just decapitate it.

He missed its neck and tore a gash across the thing’s temple, making more crusty protuberances fly off in every direction. It seemed a little subdued so he decided to experiment with what beating its brains out might achieve. He roared and brought the spade down repeatedly, hurling the frustrations of the past few days, weeks, three years, and a lifetime before that, into every blow.

A hand closed over his wrist. ‘It’s dead.’

Will ignored him and tried to break free. The spade was wrenched out of his grip and tossed to one side. ‘It is dead, Will.’

‘Give that back!’

Angelus boxed his ears. ‘It’s dead.’

‘Oh.’ Will looked down at his hand, which was covered in a green slime that was evaporating in front of his eyes. The demon was dissolving as well. He grinned. ‘I just killed a demon!’

‘Congratulations. And your prey?’

‘Er—’

‘I hope for your sake she is still there, Will,’ Angelus said pleasantly. ‘Otherwise the family will be so hungry they’ll be sucking your blood off my whip as I take your hide off.’

As Will tore off, back towards the alley, a window above him was wrenched open.

‘What is it, Algernon?’ a sleepy voice said.

‘Dash it all! Can’t see! Must be those dashed cats again. Fetch a bucket of water, Mildred.’

The little country-girl was exactly where Will had left her: she hadn’t moved an inch as far as he could see, but he dutifully checked her over, then sat back on his heels with a sigh of relief. Somewhere behind him he heard a splash as a prescriptive charge of water was chucked out into the night, followed by the bang of the sash being slammed shut. From the roof of the shed the cat was staring at Will with terrified eyes. He winked at it, and it slowly settled down on its haunches to watch him.

In the distance he became aware of the noise of feet running away fast. There were at least two pairs, possibly three. Angelus had been badly outnumbered, Will told himself, he had been right to go and help. Surely even Angelus must see that.

He looked up and down the alley, noting with alarm how much easier it was to see now. The blackbird, which had been shocked into silence by the fight, restarted its song in earnest.

There was the noise of hooves and wheels, and a black shape blocked the growing light at the far end of the alley. A low penetrating whistle carried to Will’s eager ears. He yanked the girl half over his shoulder and pounded towards the sound. The cab door was thrown open and Angelus’s face appeared, pale and blank. He frowned when he saw how Will was managing the girl, and helped her inside before pulling Will in as well, then knocked on the roof of the cab. Will sank onto the cushioned seat with a sigh, and closed his eyes.

After a second though, he opened them to look at his sire. Angelus seemed normal enough. He was examining the girl, feeling her pulse and the tightness of the bandage. When he was done he dropped her unceremoniously into the corner and raised an eyebrow at Will.

‘So… what was that about, Sire?’

‘That was about the most clumsy way to bring a capture to a cab that I have ever seen,’ Angelus said in a low whisper. ‘Have you forgotten that it is a human sitting up there on the box? A human who is going to remember tonight for a very long time, thanks to you. Do you think I actually enjoy sorting out your blunders, boy?’

Will opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again and slumped back in his seat. He folded his arms and glared out of the window, not looking at Angelus, wishing bloody death on him the while.

Dawn broke while they were still half a mile from the lair. Nevertheless Angelus had told the cabby a false address, so when he pulled over they got out, and had to make use of the long shadows being cast by the low early sun to make their way home safely. Will concentrated on helping the girl along, and didn’t speak to Angelus. The girl had come around in the cab and Angelus had drunk from her again, pushing her back to the edge of unconsciousness so now she swam in and out, too woozy to protest at what was happening to her. It was possible she didn’t know. Angelus walked a few paces ahead, his shoulders hunched; he seemed lost in thought.

As soon as they were inside, Darla appeared, took one look, and changed into demon face. She ripped off the bandage and sank her fangs in the unmarked side of the girl’s neck while Angelus drank again from the other. Dru skipped up making happy burbling noises and after a curt nod from Angelus clamped onto the sun browned skin of the girl’s arm.

Will hovered, watching Angelus intently, waiting for permission, and when he at last accepted that he wasn’t going to be allowed any more, stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered off to the further end of the hall.

Angelus looked up eventually, licking his lips. ‘Minions!’

The minions appeared at speed, having been waiting just below stairs all along, and the second Darla and a rather reluctant Dru had released their bites they attached themselves in their place. Will was studying a painting on the wall. The girl would be dead by now, the minions having to work harder for their blood. And Will was struck by the inconsequential thought that he would now never find out what had led her to leave her home.

‘Enough,’ Angelus’s command came at last, and there were muffled mewls of protest followed by the shuffle of footsteps as the minions complied. Will stiffened.

‘William.’

Will turned round, trying to make the longing not too obvious in his eyes. Angelus studied him for a lengthy period. ‘Go to your room,’ Angelus said evenly, and he turned back to the corpse.

Will clenched his fists, weighing up the pros and cons of arguing. Darla was watching him with a smirk on her face; Dru was licking her fingers for traces of blood, and smiling happily.

Will ducked his head, turned on his heel, and stalked up the stairs with as much dignity as he could muster. Only his belly gave a little twist as he went, and he honestly wasn’t sure if it was hunger or not.

In his room he plumped himself down on the bed and then wearily began to undo his coat. His fingers seemed stiff and clumsy on the buttons and he almost yelled with frustration when his watch chain got caught up and wouldn’t come free. But he screwed his face into a scowl and forced the stupid things undone, stripping off his waistcoat afterwards. He sat on the bed in his shirtsleeves, hunched over, hugging his hollow belly.

Dru drifted in, looking worried. ‘Is something the matter, my William?’

He sat up at once. ‘No, course not. Hello, love.’ He made himself beam at her and held his arms out, and she came and sat next to him, nuzzling at his neck.

‘Angelus is unhappy.’

‘No he isn’t. Angelus knows what he’s doing; nothing for you to worry about.’

‘Will, I’m scared.’

‘Well don’t be. The stars haven’t told you anything’s wrong, have they.’ He tried to make it a statement, although it was really more of a question.

‘The stars don’t always whisper me their secrets. Sometimes they are sulky; they haven’t said anything for days and days and days.’

‘And that’s because there is nothing for them to tell. No news from our correspondent in the stars.’ He kissed her on the nose. ‘I’ll look after you.’

‘Daddy looks after me.’

‘Well aren’t you lucky then,’ he said angrily.

‘Don’t be cross. You were clever and caught supper.’

‘Yeh.’ He sighed. ‘That’s right Dru, I caught supper tonight. An’ did you have a good night, Princess?’

She cooed and nibbled at his ear. ‘Not allowed to tell.’

‘Nonsense. You can tell me.’ He twined his fingers into her hair, pulling her around for a kiss. ‘Dru… Should you like a treat?’

‘Oh! Yes please. A birthday present for your birthday.’

He laughed. ‘Right you are, love, a present for you in honour of my birthday.’

‘Are you going to take me to the Bloody Tower, Bloody William!’

He groaned. ‘Dru, how many times. I can’t take you there, sweetheart: we’re not allowed to go there, the Tower isn’t in our territory. Anyway, I said a treat, never said it was taking you somewhere.’

She giggled ‘What’s it going to be?’

‘It’s a surprise. But it’s something special.’

‘Must tell, can’t tell, did tell, won’t tell.’ She stared at him worriedly. ‘Has it happened yet, Will? Do you know yet?’

‘Er, you’ve lost me, love. What’s the matter?’

‘No. Mustn’t tell, if you don’t know, mustn’t. Angelus knows. Poor little Will, all sad and bloody.’

‘Why bloody?’ he asked suspiciously.

She looked him up and down. ‘You’re waiting for Daddy. Naughty Will – sent up to wait in his shirt.’ He shifted uncomfortably and she reached out and trailed her tongue over his cheek again. ‘Bloody backed, bloody minded, William the Bloody.’ She panted and rubbed against him. ‘Bad boy! Mustn’t be naughty.’ But her eyes said differently. ‘Angelus will take you and crush you and squeeze you all inside out. Swish— thunk. Swish— thunk. Swiiiish— thunk.’

He set his jaw and stared her down and she began to purr, and to tease a finger up and down one of his braces. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly. ‘Swish—’ she said again, eyes wide with lust. ‘—thunk. Are you going to scream Will? Will you scream for Daddy?’

‘What do you think?’ he said lasciviously; then he grabbed a fistful of black hair and yanked her head back, exposing her throat. He lent over and licked her jugular, and a quiver ran all through her lean frame. ‘Think I’m goin’ to scream, love?’ he asked again, fangs poised over her windpipe. ‘Think Angelus can make me?’

She reached up frantically to push his braces off his shoulders and shoved him back down onto the bed. He rolled so he was on top of her, diving his mouth into her own. He felt soft velvet lips part and he could taste the last iron tang of blood in her mouth. He chased it with his tongue, lapping around her small human teeth, teasing up her tongue to seek under it, as she lay wide eyed beneath him.

He fumbled with her skirts, fighting through the heavy cloth and the cage-work of tapes and buttons that held everything to its immaculate outer show. There was a ripping sound as something tore under his haste. Dru moaned as he jabbed his fingers hard up against her, grasping and twisting a handful of wiry hair. He let the tips of his fangs lengthen and scrapped at the side of her mouth. ‘Daddy!’ she wailed wildly as he pulled back for a second to unbutton his fly.

He ignored her and thrust in, gouging the soft skin of her bare arms with his nails, careful never to break eye contact. Holding her with his yellow gaze, daring her to blink. She moaned again as he drove harder, and she started to move her head to the side. ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!’ Any moment he expected to hear the sound of footsteps and feel a hand tighten on his neck.

‘Angelus!’

He let go her arms and seized her face, holding it like a vice. ‘Look at me,’ he ordered. ‘Look at me!’

He could feel the pressure building inside himself, could feel her begin to clench rhythmically around him as he built his thrusts. She snarled and tried to twist out from under him but he would not let her. And then he spilt, in pulsing jets that seemed to start right in the core of his being and force their way to the surface in surge after violent surge. She screamed.

He slipped back into human form and smiled, moving to kiss her tenderly on the forehead. ‘Darling.’

She smiled too, and for just a second she was looking at him.

‘Finished?’ a voice behind them asked.

‘Yes.’ He pulled away, and as he took his weight off her, Dru sat up and held her hands out, still smiling.

‘Daddy!’

Angelus hauled her up and smoothed her skirts down for her, giving her a peck on the cheek. ‘Off to bed now, Dru. It’s late.’

‘What about Will? He must come to bed too.’

‘Not tonight.’ She pouted and seemed about to speak, and Angelus grabbed her chin and glared at her. ‘You are not to be alone with Will again until I say so, do you hear, Drusilla.’

She looked at him uncertainly. ‘Because Will was naughty?’

Angelus paused a second. ‘Yes, because he was naughty. Do you understand?’

She nodded, and Angelus nodded back and released her.

‘Good night, William. Good night, Angelus.’ Angelus took her proffered hand and raised it to his lips, and she giggled and bowed, then threw a kiss to Will and twirled out, the long train of her evening gown swishing behind her in a slither of silk. Angelus shut the door after her, then brought out something he was carrying.

Will looked at it in surprise. ‘Oh.’

‘Well take it then.’

Will took the proffered tumbler, and went and sat on the bed again, staring into the red heart of the blood for a moment before taking a deep swig. The blood was tepid, sluggish, already starting to gel; but it was blood, and he gulped it down. Angelus came and stood over him and watched.

Will cast a glance up and then concentrated on the glass. ‘I didn’t think I was going to have any,’ he said when the tumbler was empty.

‘You’re no use to me if you’re too hungry to concentrate.’

‘Oh,’ Will said again, chasing the last drop around the bottom of the glass with his finger. ‘How did you know the girl was going to be there?’

Angelus took the empty tumbler from him and set it on the table. Then Will blinked in surprise as Angelus came and sat down on the bed beside him. ‘Humans are creatures of habit, Will. If they can, they will get up at the same time every day, walk along the same side of the same street, crossing at exactly the same spot, sit on the same seat of the same bus to work, and hang their coat on the same peg when they get there. In all of London that girl had spent the longest time on just that doorstep; to her it was the most familiar place London has to offer. So she returned to it.’

Will licked his finger clean and considered this. ‘So you didn’t absolutely know.’

‘No, we never know for sure – not without magic. But experience can teach us how to save time.’

‘Experience – experience I don’t have.’

‘I never said I expected you to. But I do expect you to pay attention, and to do as you’re told. You should be able to tell the weather by now. You should know how to pick a place to observe from. And you should know never to let your watch slip for a second, or to abandon a captive. I need to be able to rely on you sometimes, Will.’

‘You can rely on me,’ he said quickly.

‘Can I? Half the time you’re in a dream; the other half you are showing off to Dru.’

‘Well you show off to Darla.’

Angelus gave a warning growl.

Will sucked at his fang. ‘Will you teach me the weather?’

‘Yes.’

‘What happened in the churchyard?’

Angelus shook his head. ‘I would have thought you wanted to get this over with.’

Will shrugged, then abruptly stood up and turned around to face the wall. He heard Angelus get off the bed.

‘You never said thank you for the blood, Will.’

‘Thank you, Sire.’ Then he squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the swishing hiss of the strap whip towards him.

Will waited until everyone had been safely in bed for an hour or two before slipping along the corridor to Drusilla. She rolled over in her bed to make room for him, with a sleepy smile, and put her arms around him. ‘I’m not supposed to be alone with you,’ she said.

‘You aren’t alone, love: I’m here.’

They would both get thrashed if they were caught; but the odds were good that they would not get caught, and Will considered it well worth the risk. She asked to see his back, as he knew she would, and he lay on his stomach while she washed him all over with her tongue, like a mother cat with a kitten. He purred quietly while she did so and lay feeling sleepy and content. ‘Stripy tabby tiger,’ she whispered when she was done. Then there was a long silence.

He felt something cold drop onto his sore skin, then another, and he twisted round to see her still crouched over him, looking down at his back and weeping.

‘Love, what’s the matter?’ He pushed himself up quickly and folded her in his arms. ‘You mustn’t be like this, Princess. I’m all right. I’ve had far worse.’

‘I can’t save you,’ she sobbed against his chest. ‘You’re my little William, but I can’t look after you. He does this to you and I can’t stop him. Nothing can stop him.’

‘Hush baby, hush. I’m fine. Barely felt it. I can look after myself. Don’t fret yourself, love, don’t fret.’

She burrowed against him. ‘Oh Will, I am so tired, so very tired.’

He hugged her tight because he didn’t know what else to do.

‘Sometimes,’ she said slowly, ‘I worry that he might send me mad. Do you think he might?’ She looked up at him. ‘It scares me so much sometimes that I can’t reason properly because of it. You see, sometimes…’ she looked down as if she was ashamed to admit what she was about to say, ‘sometimes I think there might be things I have forgotten. Places I have been or things I have done. Wicked, terrible things. It is as if, however hard I try to be good, I know that inside me there is nothing but darkness, and it must surely find its way to the surface some day. I worry that some day I shall wake up and not know how I got here.’ She looked at him with dark, fearful eyes. ‘You would tell me, wouldn’t you, Will, if you thought I was going mad?’

‘Yes.’

‘Promise me, Will. You must promise.’

‘I promise, Dru.’

‘Make love to me,’ she whispered. And he did his best to give her in one day all the gentle caresses and tender affection that she so rarely craved. She called him by his own name then, and he tried to tell himself that it did not leave a hollow feeling in his heart as surely as had his earlier brutal taking of her. He cannot do this for her, Will told himself, only I can do this. This is why I was made. So he carried on doing his best until she could forget her tears. And after a while he heard her mutter ‘Angelus’ in his ear and knew that the horrible, cold cruelty of her sanity had been buried deep; and she had returned to the safe place where she was his playful, wonderful queen once more.

This is why I was made.

I am not him, he wanted to yell as he climaxed. But they had to be quiet so he just murmured her name.

Afterwards they played batting and teasing games until she snuggled back in the crook of his arm and fell quiet. He lay still and thought about getting a cigarette, but couldn’t be bothered to move. ‘So where did they take you last night, Dru?’

‘Twenty-eight pretty soldiers all in a row. Bang goes the gun – and then – there’s only twenty one!’

Will sighed and decided he wanted a smoke after all. He kissed her and rolled out of the bed, grabbed his shirt and trousers off the floor, and slipped out quietly. He looked back and saw her settling down to sleep quite happily, sprawling out to take up the whole bed, apparently perfectly indifferent to his having left. He stopped in the corridor to yank his clothes on.

‘…four of them. And two Tethroc demons.’ Angelus’s voice, low but clear in the still of the day, from the master bedroom. ‘Of course if he hadn’t joined in…’ Will sneaked closer to the door.

‘And the corpse?’ That was Darla.

‘If it was a corpse. The coffin-plate was elaborate, but there was no stone. No sign of a body either. The coffin was open, the lid tossed to one side, shroud hanging over a tombstone.’

‘But if it was a vampire why would they dig it up? Why not let it find its own way to the surface? And why bring demons?’

‘I wish I knew. Tethroc are hardly accustomed to serve as minions with vampires.’

‘There are some clans which exhume their fledglings, they consider it safer,’ Darla mused. ‘Or possibly some new cult that—’

The door was flung open and a hand grabbed Will by the ear.

‘So, Will – tell me three facts about Tethroc demons.’

‘I— Ouch! Sire! Tethroc? Wh—’

‘Well you’re not much help then, are you. What are you doing? Amuse me – be creative.’

‘Nothing, Sire! I was just— Couldn’t sleep, I was going to get a book.’

‘Hmm, continuing with your studies, no doubt. Very commendable.’ Angelus sniffed. ‘And Drusilla has been liberal with her favours again, I note.’

‘Er…’

‘Let me make a suggestion, Will: instead of eavesdropping or screwing your sister when you were specifically told not to, why don’t you actually get some rest today? That way you might even be of some use tonight, unlike last.’

‘I wasn’t useless. I killed a bloody demon for you! You needed me. You said so yourself.’

‘Did I. And when would that have been?’

‘Just now, you—’ He realised he had just confessed to having been listening. ‘I’m not useless.’

‘Ah. Because you killed a demon.’

‘Yes I bloody did. Stop treating me as if I’m just a minion, I can do things. I’m not an idiot. Ouch!’

Angelus tilted his head to one side and studied Will with an amused expression. Will scowled and shifted uncomfortably, his confidence beginning to ebb. After a bit he dropped his eyes. Angelus gave his ear a final round twist before releasing it; then he laughed softly and ruffled Will’s hair. ‘Don’t sulk.’

Will pushed his hair back out of his eyes and rubbed his sore ear.

‘Angelus,’ Darla said from the bed, ‘you are letting in a draft.’

‘Oh, how inconsiderate of me, dear.’ Angelus yanked Will in by the collar, and shut the door. ‘So, Will, what do you have to contribute to this discussion? Since you are up and wandering around during the day, and so very clever.’

Will swallowed, his eyes fixed on the floor.

‘Nothing at all? How odd. Especially considering you were only learning about the Tethroc a few days ago. Tell me, for example, how would you kill a Tethroc? Apart from by bashing its head in with a gardening implement, naturally.’

‘Tethroc: you break off the small horn between its eyes,’ Will said sullenly.

‘Ah! So you do actually know something. Would this be before or after you hit it with a spade?’

‘But I didn’t know— Before.’

‘Which makes the rest of what you were doing rather pointless, doesn’t it, Will.’

Will nodded.

‘What was that?’

‘Yes Sire.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Angelus, will you hurry up,’ Darla said. ‘I wish to be able to get some sleep today. Punish him and be done. You may use my crop – it is in the top drawer.’ She didn’t sound in the least sleepy. Will gritted his teeth. Angelus had turned around to look at Darla, who was indicating the drawer in question; she had sat up and smoothed the blankets out, preparing for a grandstand view.

‘Clothes off, boy,’ Angelus said without looking round. With great reluctance, Will started to comply.

Darla called to Will, ‘You arrogant little brute. Do you really think you could be of help? More likely you nearly got your sire killed.’

Angelus was still looking at her. ‘You worry too much, darling,’ he said calmly. ‘I can manage a few strays. Will didn’t distract me much, and he did kill his first demon.’

‘He has also disobeyed you several times, including wandering around and listening to his elders’ conversation when he should be asleep.’

Angelus turned back to Will, frowning, but he was smothering a yawn as he did so, and Will gave him his sweetest, most pleading look; he didn’t say anything but he let it stay on his face for a while, then turned it into a cheeky grin.

Angelus laughed, pulled him forward, and kissed him roughly on the forehead. ‘Get into bed.’

‘What?’ Darla snapped. ‘In here? Have you gone mad, Angelus?’

‘Not as far as I am aware.’

‘So you are just going to let him get away with this?’

‘I thought you wanted to get some sleep?’

‘I do.’ She immediately lay back down and wrapped the blankets tightly around herself. ‘But not with him in here. He has a perfectly good room of his own – make him use it for once.’

And have him wandering around the house again within half an hour? You know what he is like. Will, I said: get into bed.’

‘He fidgets, Angelus. And last time he kicked me.’

‘He won’t kick you.’

‘Yes he will. He has bad dreams and then he kicks. And what if he snores?’

‘He won’t snore. Will, if you make me tell you again…’

Will cast a nervous look at Darla and a doubtful one at Angelus, but there was no sign of forbearance from either. He swallowed and clambered onto the bed, trying not to shake it too much, or disturb the blankets where Darla was cocooned in them.

‘Move over, boy: I am not a broom-pole,’ Angelus boomed. Will edged closer to the middle.

‘How can you possibly say he won’t snore, Angelus? He is a stupid little fledgling, and like most stupid little fledglings he doesn’t have proper control of his breathing yet. I do not want him snoring in my ear all day simply because you cannot control him if you let him out of your sight for five minutes.’

‘He won’t snore,’ Angelus said mildly, getting into the bed and forcibly shoving Will even closer to Darla.

Will rolled onto his stomach and buried his nose in his arms. Darla poked at him from the other side, and slapped his elbow. ‘Put that down,’ she said. ‘It is sticking in my face.’

Will tried to move onto his side to take up less room, but dithered between which of them to face.

‘You see, he’s fidgeting already.’

‘Keep still, Will.’ Angelus made the decision for him, pulling him up against his side so Will found himself facing a very cross looking Darla. Angelus’s broad hand was planted on his chest. ‘Go to sleep.’ Will closed his eyes and tried to relax.

‘Angelus, you have no means of knowing he won’t snore.’

‘Yes I do. I have slept with him enough to know he doesn’t snore.’

‘I have distinctly heard him snore on numerous occasions.’

‘Nonsense – name one.’

‘Last week.’

‘Rubbish.’

Will turned his head slightly towards Angelus and whispered, ‘Perhaps I was purring.’

Angelus growled. ‘Quiet!’

‘You see! This is exactly the sort of thing I am talking about. Angelus, I am trying to get some sleep.’

Angelus ignored her, settling Will against himself once more. Will felt the sandpapery chin nuzzle against his neck, and then a light pricking, and he knew Angelus must have changed into demon face. The sharp fangs began to bore down against his skin and then he almost squeaked as Angelus nipped and held his scruff. The master vampire gave a little shake with his head – half playful maul, half warning –, and Will stopped his breathing and lay as motionless as he could. The prick of fangs retreated. Will felt Angelus move even closer and a hand slid under him, drawing him into the curve of Angelus’s body. He winced and balled his fists as his sire pressed up against his bruised back.

‘Angelus! He is fidgeting!’

Angelus sighed and threw a leg over Will, pinning him more firmly. ‘For Christ’s sake! Keep still and go to sleep, Will.’

Will lay still: but sleep would not come. He was squashed and feeling trapped anyway, and he was becoming increasingly aware of the drumming, drubbing ache in his back. It seemed to be growing worse with every passing minute, until it was all he could think about. If he had been alone he would have been tossing and turning and punching the pillow to try to get comfortable; as it was he dared not move. Dru’s soothing ministrations seemed an age ago and the long day stretched out in front of him interminably, with no hope of relief. After a while he licked his lips, because that movement at least seemed safe. And having done it once he did it again. And again.

‘Angelus, will you stop him doing that, it is extremely irritating.’

‘Eh, what?’ From the sound of it Angelus had just been drifting off to sleep.

‘He is sticking his tongue out at me.’

‘No I’m bloody not!’ Will burst out indignantly, and then froze when he realised what he had said.

Angelus had stiffened. Will opened a cautious eye and found he was looking into Darla’s icy gaze. He quickly shut it again.

‘And now he is making faces! I will not tolerate this, Angelus.’

Angelus moved at last: Will felt a tap on his back and Angelus gripped his neck and seemed to be hauling him upwards. Will flailed, then realised what was happening and scrambled over Angelus’s chest until he found himself squashed in the narrow cold strip between Angelus and the edge of the mattress. Angelus had turned his back on Darla and the prick of his fangs came again: much harder than before.

Even after the warning fangs had retreated, Will lay as still as he could manage for what seemed an age. Then Angelus’s hand came up and brushed idly around his ear. He kept quiet, but tilted his head into the gesture and after a while he had to stop himself from purring. It was an odd sensation to prevent it, like prickles building up under his skin, and it made him writhe against Angelus ever so slightly again. A movement which brought him to rest with something jutting into his back.

Angelus clearly now had something other than sleep on his mind. Normally in such circumstances Angelus would decide to relieve himself by grabbing Will around the waist and, without frittering away time on such delicate preliminaries as ensuring Will wasn’t going to be hurt like hell, just driving in. But with Darla’s critical aura almost humming over the bed, Will was fairly sure that wasn’t going to happen. Will smiled and reached down behind himself, and cautiously he began to rub Angelus’s cock. He half expected to be slapped off, but Angelus only nuzzled against his neck, scraping his fangs against the skin in sweet trickles of threatening delight that made Will want to squirm away from them and press further in at the same time. Unsure if this was criticism or not, Will paused for a second, and at once a sharp nip crushed into his skin. He gritted his teeth and swallowed his yelp, and returned to his work. The bite was released and a wet tongue smoothed and soothed over the sore spot in return. Then Angelus abruptly dropped his hand to Will’s own cock and a sleek fingernail was dragged up the length. Will opened his mouth and gasped a silent hiss. And as if in reward for still not making a sound, the fist closed around him and Angelus began to rub, following the rhythm Will had set.

They worked together: each matching the pace of the other in deep steady strokes, too smooth to rock the bed, but long and hard for all that. Pull after pull after pull. Will wanted to breath and sway in time to it, but he knew he mustn’t let himself, and the tension seemed to pour down to his cock, feeding from deep within to build up silently, like a head of water before the sluice is opened. And as he carried his tight hand all the way up Angelus’s shaft to press against the other man’s balls he could feel a similar pressure rising within Angelus. Noiselessly growing. Until, when the heady force was great enough that he felt it must surely suck him down and under into the swirling depths, it flooded out. He clamped his teeth shut and pressed back against his sire as he felt the cool stickiness stream against his back, even as he spilt his own.

The two men lay spent but still alert, as when an otter rests after a long dive, ever with one ear cocked for the hounds. Will knew that he was counting the seconds, expecting any moment to hear Darla’s clamorous tones; and no doubt it was the same thought that held Angelus poised. They waited. But no sound came and at last Angelus kissed Will softly and pulled him against his chest once more.

After a while there was a strange fluttering sound. Will frowned. It came again, followed by a small rasp, rasp noise. Angelus flinched, as if something had hit him from the other side. Very cautiously, Will turned to look into Angelus’s eyes. The bemused dark gaze met his own while the noise gradually increased in volume. Then the bed shook at last as both men silently began to laugh. Darla, oblivious and deep in sleep, continued to flail around, snarling and twisting as she fought demons in her nightmares, with a sound that was suspiciously like a snore.