‘Quite right I’m not, can’t stand the bastards.’
‘But why? How come you didn’t end up like the rest of them?’
He shrugged. ‘Guess it just didn’t take for some reason. Why that is, I do not know. I’ve got the fangs and I’ve got the hunger, but that’s about where the vampire ends.’
‘So there aren’t any other Clan members like you?’
‘Nope, I’m one of a kind, me. Now, if that’s everything, I’d like my blood now.’
‘Not until we get what we came for.’ This visit was starting to look like a waste of time, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Carlo was holding out on me.
‘All right then, cut to the chase. What are you after?’
I looked to Gen, then back to Carlo. ‘We need a cure for vampirism.’
He laughed; a proper window-rattling, hand over-the-mouth guffaw. ‘Bloody hell, girl, is that all? Yeah, I’ve got about six of them in the back room, let me go grab one.’
‘I’m serious,’ I told him.
He stopped laughing and looked to Gen. ‘She’s pulling my plonker, right? She actually thinks I know how to cure vampirism? Christ Almighty, don’t you think if I knew a way to get this Clan blood out of me that I’d do something about my situation? Do something about all of this?’ He kicked up a pile of rubbish and the prowling cat darted off with a screech.
Gendith looked at me as if to say, I told you so.
‘So I take it that’s a no then?’ I asked Carlo.
‘Yeah, that’s a really big and bloody obvious no. I’m a lowlife bloodsucker who takes in stray cats, I’m not a magician.’
‘Okay then,’ I said, turning on my heel. ‘In that case you’ve been no use whatsoever.’
I headed for the door with Gen in tow.
Carlo quickly changed his tune. ‘Wait, don’t go,’ he begged, scratching his arm again. ‘Maybe… I don’t know, maybe there’s a way to turn your boyfriend back after all.’
I was bluffing before when I made to leave. I sensed that he was keeping something to himself, and I knew a thing or two about stringing a man along.
Gen’s eyes widened. ‘What are you talking about?’ she said, giving Carlo evils. ‘You said there was no such thing as a cure. You’ve always said that.’
Carlo tried to throw some sunshine in his voice but only came off sounding more desperate. ‘Your man’s in the early stages, right? Like, not fully turned?’
‘Right,’ I replied, eager, a little hope getting its hooks into me.
‘Okay, that means there’s still a chance. Maybe. Possibly.’
‘Bullshit,’ Gen spat back. ‘He doesn’t know anything. He’s only saying that so he can get his taste.’
But it didn’t seem to me like Carlo was lying. He’d held something back before, and he’d only given it up when I threatened to leave and take the contents of my veins with me. ‘Go on,’ I said. ‘Fess up.’
‘I know a guy, okay? My blood guy.’
‘Your blood guy?’
‘Yeah. A Harley Street haematologist. Hooks me up with the red stuff… at least when I can afford to pay him.’
‘Why are you telling us this?’ I asked.
‘Because he knows his shit, okay? If there’s anyone out there who can do something for your fella, it’s this bloke.’
‘Do what exactly?’ asked Gen.
‘I don’t know... give his blood a rinse I suppose. Get all that Clan taint out before it beds in proper. Christ, I’m not the expert.’
It all sounded a bit pie in the sky to me, but it was the best we had. ‘Give us the address then,’ I said.
‘Sure, sure,’ he said, hunting for a pen but returning with an eyeliner pencil. He blathered away as he scribbled on the back of a flyer. ‘Look, I’m not promising anything, it’s probably a load of hopeless bullshit, but this is your best bet, all right? You should know though, my blood guy won’t talk to you willingly.’
‘Why not?’ I asked.
‘Because he’s with the JC.’
‘He’s Clanned up?’ Gen replied. ‘So what’s he doing dealing with a traitor like you?’
‘He deals with me because he thinks I’m on the up and up. You reckon I go to him looking like this? No chance. It’s a suit and tie all the way, my girl. Same outfit I was buried in as a matter of fact. Should’ve seen me in my coffin, I looked positively spiffy.’
I snatched the flyer off him and turned to Gen. ‘We’ve got everything we need. Let’s go.’
‘Oi,’ said Carlo. ‘What about me? Where’s my taste?’
‘I’ll have to sort you out later,’ I replied. ‘Sorry, Carlo, but we’re on the clock.’
And we were; it was gone half two now, meaning we had less than an hour and a half before sundown.
Carlo made a pathetic mewling noise. ‘Please,’ he said, begging like a dog, ‘I need it…’
But we were already out the door.
6
We had to work fast.
The drive to Marylebone would usually have taken about half an hour, but I paid the cabbie a twenty to put his foot down and we were there in half that. I was dreading my next bank statement. If I survived the next few weeks, I was gonna have to find a way to earn some cash.
We rounded a corner onto Harley Street and I scanned the buildings for the address Carlo had written down in his junkie scrawl. Georgian townhouses with cast iron balconies and arched doorways passed either side of us; private surgeries and medical specialists for the rich and wealthy. I knew all about Harley Street of course; this was where balding footballers went to for hair plugs, and their wives for lip jobs and extra cup sizes. What I didn’t know then was that Harley Street was also a hotbed of vampire activity, but the more I learned about the Uncanny, the more I came to realise that wherever there was money, the smell of the grave was never far behind.
‘There it is,’ I told the driver, pointing out of the cab window. ‘112 Harley Street.’
We pulled up, then Gendith and I waved the cabbie a cursory goodbye and jogged to the entrance of the building. Having bounded up a short flight of steps, we were presented with a stout black door and an intercom listing no less than half a dozen businesses. I double-checked Carlo’s note, but there was no mention of any of them.
‘Which one?’ I asked Gen.
Gen carefully studied the list of clinics then stabbed a finger at a symbol next to a perfectly nondescript-sounding organisation called BIOLAB LABORATORIES. The symbol was similarly unremarkable: a small, round shape tapering to a point at its top end.
‘What’s that meant to be?’ I asked. ‘A teardrop?’
‘A blood drop,’ Gen corrected, tapping at the telltale clue. ‘This is the place. Third floor.’
I went to try the front door but Gen barred the way.
‘You should take a look inside first. Surveil the situation.’
The door was solid. No window, not even a keyhole.
‘How am I meant to do that?’ I asked. ‘X-ray specs?’
‘With your eyes,’ Gen replied, and when I failed to respond to that, she begrudgingly enlightened me. ‘You do realise you’re able to see through walls, right?’
That took a silent second or two to sink in, I can tell you. ‘You’re shitting me?’
‘No.’
‘Right, so is there anything else I can do that you haven’t told me about? Can I fly? Shoot laser beams? Ooh, can I turn into a car?’
Gen wiped a palm down her face, top to bottom. ‘Learn your powers, girl. For God’s sake, you’re supposed to be the Nightstalker, the scourge of the vampire horde.’ The words, “Supposed to be”, came out dripping with venom. The way Gendith saw it, she was the one who should have been awarded the Nightstalker mantle, along with the dagger I wore under my jacket. She shook her head at me. ‘What’s the matter with you? Did you get that symbol on your hand from a henna kit?’
Believe me, if I could have pressed my palm to hers and passed on the brand like a transfer tattoo, I�
�d have done it, no question. Did she think I wanted to be in this situation? Running around town on a ticking clock, trying to cure my boyfriend of a disease with no known cure? Before that stupid knife found its way across my desk I was happy. Well, not happy exactly, but a fuck of a lot happier than I am since I learned vampires live in the city and have their own private blood banks.
‘Well, Gen,’ I sighed, ‘at least you’re consistent.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means you’ve been on my case from the moment I got this N on my palm, which—by the way—I never asked for. I mean, come on, what do you want from me? I’ve been buzzing around like a blue-arsed fly ever since I got yanked into this mess, so pardon me for not knowing I have frigging Superman vision.’
‘It isn’t my job to teach you, Abbey. I am not your mentor. Vizael is the only one misguided enough to have taken on that responsibility.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Gen, can you just pretend to be a friend and help me out here? Neil’s life is on the line.’ I was starting to hyperventilate. Starting to feel like I was seconds away from a complete mental breakdown.
Gen eyed me coolly. ‘Very well. Since you haven’t been taught how to use all of your abilities yet, we shall consider this an opportunity for some on-the-job training.’
I focussed up and caught my breath. ‘Great. Just tell me what I have to do.’
Gen nodded. It can’t have been easy, teaching a foolish mortal to use the powers that rightfully belonged to her—at least in her mind—but she swallowed her pride and did it anyway. ‘Close your eyes,’ she said.
‘Don’t I need those to, you know, see?’
‘Close them, you prattling turd.’
I did as asked. ‘Fine. Rude. Eyes shut. What now?’
‘Now concentrate.’
‘On what?’
‘Concentrate on the impossible.’
That one left me a bit stumped. ‘I don’t get it,’ I told her. ‘How can I concentrate on something that isn’t real?’
‘Have you learned nothing since you were Sanctified?’ she asked, wearing, I felt sure, her trademarked glower. ‘Just think of what you’ve borne witness to already: vampires and ghosts and sorcery...’
‘But I know those aren’t impossible.’
‘You do now. Before the brand opened your eyes, the undead belonged in horror films, and magic was just men in top hats pulling silk scarves out of fancy canes and scrubbing rabbit shit from top hats. Now you know better. Now you know that anything is possible.’
I felt Gen’s words rolling around my brain, soothing me, placing me in a kind of trance. ‘Okay, I hear you, so now what?’
‘Now you really open your eyes.’
I followed along and took a peek, expecting nothing to have changed, but discovering a world gone topsy-turvy.
The door in front of me was no longer there, and neither were the walls beyond it. All that was left of 112 Harley Street were faint outlines, as though the entire building were made of freshly-polished glass. Even the ground beneath my feet was gone, leaving me hovering above a bottomless void. A wave of vertigo struck me and I felt my stomach make a valiant escape bid through my throat. I tried closing my eyes again, but saw right through my eyelids.
‘Ugh,’ I groaned, knees threatening to unhinge and send me collapsing into the void. ‘How do I turn it off?’
‘Stick with it,’ Gen insisted. ‘We’re not done yet.’
I carried on looking, more out of a lack of choice than anything else. ‘Sticking with it,’ I assured her.
‘Good. Now focus on the third floor and tell me what you see.’
The simple act of tilting my head back was like riding the loop of a roller coaster, but I just about managed to angle my eyeline to the building’s third storey without throwing up.
‘Can you make out any movement?’ Gen asked.
I could; the outline of a solitary figure, milling about in one of the upstairs rooms. As I focused on the outline, the figure glowed blue and became more distinct. It was a man. A man in a lab coat.
‘There’s a guy up there,’ I told Gen. ‘Looks like a scientist.’
‘Just the one?’
‘Far as I can tell.’ As I looked to Gen, my vision snapped back to normal, filling my world with solid objects. The rush of reality hit me like oncoming traffic and sent me rolling back on my heels.
‘Easy there,’ said Gen, catching me before I fell down.
I regained my footing and brushed myself off, embarrassed to have been captured mid-swoon. ‘Why would there only be one vamp up there?’ I asked.
‘The hour of the day,’ Gen replied. ‘This is siesta time for most Clan members. It’s no wonder the lab is operating on a skeleton crew.’
‘Okay,’ I said, gathering my wits after taking that disorientating roller coaster ride. ‘Then let’s get up there and question the guy.’
I tried the front door but it was locked. No surprise there. I tried it again, more forcefully this time, but it still wouldn’t give. Gen put a shoulder to the door too, but it was rock solid.
‘How do we get in?’ I asked, but no sooner had I said it than an idea had formed.
I cast my mind back to when this whole merry-go-round had started, before I was the Nightstalker, back when I worked at the Lost Property Office and received my own doorstep visitor. The man who rang the bell that day—the one who turned out to be a vampire—had charmed his way inside using nothing more than the right words and a dollop of sexual magnetism. What if we could do the same to the guy on the other end of this intercom?
I explained my plan to Gen.
‘I suppose it’s as good a strategy as any,’ she said, not exactly bolstering my confidence. ‘So, who's going to do the talking?’
‘You should, you’re the looker. Just flutter your eyelashes and get him to open this door.’
I wasn’t just flattering her. Gen was, regardless of her less than perfect attitude, physically stunning. She had the kind of flawless features that belonged on a billboard advertising an expensive perfume, and despite only ever dressing in clothes built for function, her presentation was always impeccable, her appearance never less than pristine. Even after a fight to the death—when I’d look ugly as homemade sin—she’d still manage to look as though she’d just stepped off a Milan catwalk, not a smudge on her skin, not a hair out of place.
Gen’s lip curled slightly, and for a split-second she lost her perfect symmetry. ‘I know little of seducing men,’ she said, ‘but I agree, I am by far the better looking of us.’
And so modest with it.
She elbowed me aside so I was out of view of the intercom’s camera, and jabbed the button for Biolab Laboratories.
There was a long silence then, ‘What do you want?’ asked a gruff voice on the other end.
Gen gave the camera her best bedroom eyes. ‘Hello, Sir, can I spare a moment of your time to talk about the work we do at Red Cross?’
‘Not interested,’ said the voice.
‘Are you sure I can’t tempt you?’ asked Gen, unzipping her hoodie to show some cleavage. ‘We’re only asking for a small donation.’
Lord knows how, but she actually managed to make the word “donation” sound sexy.
Still the man in the lab coat wasn’t biting. ‘Please go,’ he insisted, ‘and kindly remove this address from your route.’
How he managed to dismiss her so easily was beyond me. Honestly, even I was a little bit turned on. Gen turned to me, out of ideas.
‘If you don’t leave now, I’m going to have to call the police,’ said the man in the lab coat, drawing a line in the sand.
The time had come to employ Plan B: the nuclear option. Without warning, I stepped in front of the camera and slapped my hand against the lens, showing the man upstairs the big letter N on my palm. ‘Do you know what this is?’ I asked.
There was a brief silence, then, ‘Yes,’ he quavered.
‘Then you know who I
am and what I can do,’ I told him.
‘Wh-what do you want?’ he asked.
‘Just a chat.’
‘Okay then. Um, then let’s talk.’
‘No can do,’ I replied, ‘it’s got to be face-to-face.
‘I can’t do th—’
‘Shut up and listen to me. Right now you have two options. Buzz me in and I promise all that’s going to happen between us is a conversation. That’s Option One. Option Two: you don’t open this door, or call your friends, or do anything I don’t like, and I'll bust in there and murder you seven ways to Sunday.’ I was bluffing of course. Even though I had super strength and who knew how many other superpowers I hadn’t been told about, I wasn’t taking down that door any time soon. ‘So what’s it going to be, Doc? Open sesame?’
There was another interminable pause, then the door to the building gasped open, slowly, regrettably, like a mouth trying to keep a secret and breaking its promise.
I turned to Gen. ‘After you.’
Gen grimaced and stepped inside.
‘So, you never said I couldn’t turn into a car…’
7
We were in. Now it was time to get what we came for.
The third floor was cold and quiet except for the soft whisper of background machinery.
‘Hello,’ I said, calling out for the scientist, but getting nothing back.
I drew my dagger from its sheath and it sparked with blue electricity. Beside me, Gendith pulled out her morning star and gave it a couple of preparatory whirls.
We moved along a corridor quietly, passing by a laboratory that was visible through a pane of thick glass (actual glass this time, not just in my head). We were in a large research facility, the kind you might see in an apocalyptic outbreak scenario; all gleaming white walls and great swathes of stainless steel.
I pushed open a door and Gen and I stepped into the lab proper. Everything inside was clean, organised, and smelled of bleach. A complicated machine whirred away, sorting dozens of blood-filled test tubes, rotating them, labelling them, and delivering them into neat metal racks. Through the glass door of a six-foot-tall cooler I saw dozens of IV bags, all of them pregnant with blood.
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