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backwards and throwing up. If this young bloke is going to offer himself as a vampette for my delectation then I’m not going to waste any of his precious blood. It would be insulting to him and – worse – Ursus would make me drink all over again. I breathe deeply, then paste on a smile. ‘Thank you, Connor.’
    He opens his eyes. ‘That was great. You were very gentle.’
    I scan his face. He seems to be telling the truth. I’ll never understand what drives people like him to wander off the street to donate blood to vampires but I have to respect his choice. I bob my head in acknowledgment then, slowly and without too many jerky movements, leave.
    Michael is outside, standing next to two others. His head is inclined towards a female vampire who looks about twenty but who I know for a fact is closer to the ripe old age of ninety-five. She smiles briefly in my direction and departs. Then he turns to me.
    ‘This is Patrick Jones.’ He gestures at his remaining companion. I realise with surprise that he’s an Agathos daemon. ‘He’s a barrister who occasionally helps us out.’
    I’m puzzled. I thought the Montserrat Family had in-house lawyers. I give Patrick a quick smile in greeting.
    ‘Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you,’ he says.
    Michael stiffens, making me wonder what’s been said. My eyes narrow.
    The lawyer hands me a card, shiny and embossed with gold letters: Patrick Jones. Employment Law. Vampire Recruitment Law. Advocate with the Agathos courts. There’s a phone number. ‘Thanks,’ I mutter, stuffing it in my back pocket.
    Patrick bows in my direction then shakes Michael’s hand before going to speak to Ursus. I wonder why he’s here. There’s a lot going on in the underbelly of the Montserrat Family that we fledglings aren’t party to.
    ‘You’re looking, um, casual,’ I say, turning to Michael. He’s wearing a pair of jogging bottoms and a tight-fitting T-shirt in the midnight blue colour that signifies Montserrat. I try not to notice how well it clings to his body.
    I receive a grin in return. ‘We’re going to do some exercise.’
    ‘Oh. Okay.’
    ‘It’ll help you work out some of that tension.’
    ‘I’m perfectly relaxed,’ I lie.
    ‘If you say so.’ He glances towards the large oak front doors. ‘The sun went down about an hour ago so we’re good to go.’
    Michael walks out and I trail after him. I wish I was strong enough to go out during the day; I’m sure some sun would help me feel better. Unfortunately, I won’t be in a position to do that for at least another year and a half, maybe longer. The thought is incredibly depressing. Still, as soon as I’m outside in the brisk night air, I suck a deep breath far into my lungs. It’s good to be allowed out without having to keep looking over my shoulder, even if I’m under escort.
    ‘I hear you like feeling power between your thighs?’
    I blink. ‘Er, what?’
    Michael grins and gestures in front of him. Ursus’s gleaming motorbike sits at the edge of the road. I can’t help smiling.
    ‘Here,’ he says, throwing me a helmet.
    I catch it and look down, frowning. Michael is already clambering on the bike.
    ‘Why don’t you have a helmet?’
    ‘Because I’m a stronger and older vampire whose skull won’t be bashed in if we crash,’ he replies patiently.
    I open my mouth to retort, then think better of it and jam on the helmet. So far, I’ve yet to come across any advantages to being a bloodguzzler.
    ‘Can’t I drive?’
    ‘You don’t know where we’re going.’
    I can’t argue with that. Maybe I should stop being so truculent. If I continue to bicker about every little thing, he may rescind my little bit of freedom. I need to be smarter and pick my battles.
    I climb on behind him. It’s a long time since I’ve ridden pillion and being this close to the Lord of all the Montserrat vampires makes me nervous. Rather than putting my arms round his waist, I grab the handholds behind my hips.