MONDAY OCTOBER 6

Kyle had parked his bike in the dedicated bays reserved for staff members. He pulled off his helmet when I approached. "No way. You're nowhere near fully trained and unlicensed vampires are dangerous. Swear to God, I'll station myself outside Sharon's house and not budge."

"Please, Kyle! I used to live there, remember? I've done advanced stake training, so I'll be able to do that, if nothing else. I can't wait here. And it's not like the Argists have the contract for security services in Dunrovia," I added, "so you're not there in an official capacity anyway."

All true. For the past few years, the Argist Academy had applied to take over public security services in our country. They proposed different solutions and a funding model that didn't cripple the families who needed security services. The National Conservatives rubbished the plans and argued that the public had no appetite for them, but when the contract came up next year how would the party be able to persuade people taxpayers should shoulder Vampire Security's far more expensive services?

The Argists routinely showed up in emergencies in case Vampire Security didn't arrive in time or bring enough guards with them, which happened, what, seven times out of ten, more?

Kyle puffed out his cheeks and blew out the air. "Fine. Do nothing without my say-so, okay?"

I nodded, and he caught my wrist in a vice-like grip. "Do you promise, Maya?"

"Promise! All I want to do is guard Rosie. Can we go now?"

He handed me the other helmet, and I hopped on the back behind him. We roared through the quiet streets. Barriers had been set up at the entrances to all the roads that led into the estate. Kyle stopped the bike at the one blocking off access to our street. I hopped off the bike and removed my helmet. Two armed guards strode forward.

"Can you let me though, please?" I asked. "My family lives here."

Guard one held out her hand. "Where's your proof?"

Kyle joined me. "She doesn't need proof. We don't live in a country where people need to carry ID wherever they go."

"Yet," the guard growled, but she let us through, the pounding in my ears increasing every second. The last strike on the estate had taken place some time ago, and I hadn't seen this level of protection here for months.

I ran to Sharon's house, Kyle by my side. My old home was a terraced house, each brick building too close to the next. All the front doors on the street featured triple locks and double doors, the lead lining inside supposed to deaden the smell of unvaccinated blood within.

The streets had that eery stillness—no-one out and about, and no cars driving around. A neighbourhood bracing itself for impact.

"Sharon, I'm here!"

She didn't answer and I knocked again. Footsteps scurried forwards. She must have been locking Rosie in our basement.

"Love, please can you go to the supermarket for me?" she whispered through the letter box. "Rosie's still got a temperature and I've run out of paracetamol."

Ever since Rosie's second vaccination dose, she'd suffered frequent fevers.

"Go," Kyle said. "I'll stand guard outside the house."

I gave him my phone so that he could communicate with Sharon and headed off for the grotty supermarket. Above me, birds took to the air chirping their tiny heads off—an indication of vampires nearby. I picked up the pace. The sooner I fetched that paracetamol, the sooner I could join Kyle to shield Rosie.

To the right of me, Gregor and two others ran towards the playpark on the far side of the estate. I ducked behind the bus shelter and waited until their footsteps were no longer audible.

Outside the supermarket, a security guard blocked the entrance. "Go back home," he barked at me.

"It's a medical emergency," I pleaded. "I'll be in and out in a flash."

"Hurry up, then." He stood aside.

The shop assistant at the till had armed herself with a regulation stake and she looked up as I came in. A few other customers huddled at the front, two of them white-faced and whispering to each other. I picked up a wire basket and flung in bread, milk, pasta and tins of tomatoes to stock up Sharon's almost always bare cupboards.

The shop kept its paracetamol behind the counter—in part to stop people in this deprived part of the city buying too much of it and attempting to kill themselves. As I approached the counter, the shop assistant relaxed her grip on the stake.

"Alright, Maya?" she asked, and I recognised her from our school days. She bagged up my stuff.

"Still doing those vampire makeovers?"

"Yup."

"Bet they make you loads of money, eh? Dunno why you're slumming it back here."

Loads of money. If only. Most of the advertising and sponsorship revenue had been swallowed by Rosie's late-stage vaccination costs and the Vampire Security services we still needed before Rosie's six weeks were up.

"Mind you," the assistant added, as she slipped the requested packet of paracetamol into the bag. "When vampires turn up like this and put us out of business for the day, it's a pain in the—"

The whine of the shop sirens cut through the air. Everyone dropped to the floor as the security guard poked his head around the door and barked instructions. "No-one move! I'll lock the door, so you'll all be safe."

Other sirens started up too. Vampire attacks hitting multiple sites on the estate I guessed.

The two customers I'd noticed earlier whispering to each other appeared frozen in place, one of them whimpering. The older one was about my age, and the younger girl about twelve or thirteen, who must be her sister, and who had that unnaturally pale complexion you got when you spent almost all your time indoors.

She must be unvaccinated. What on earth had they risked coming outside?

The older one met my eyes, the desperation clear. I crawled to her side. "Hey, Maya. I'm Argist trained. You heard what the guard said. He's on the outside. I'm on the inside. You're safe."

What a joke. Six weeks into enrolment at the Argist Academy and I'd only disabled a vampire using mind control one lousy time months ago.

The woman turned to me, teary faced. I amended my estimate of her age—she must be younger than me, face baby plump and spotty, thick red hair loose about her shoulders.

"Mhari. Tia's just started her periods. We thought we'd be safer together."

Shit. Neither of them was vaccinated. The sobs started up in earnest. I patted her shoulder. "If you squeeze into that space over there, I'll guard you."

I pointed to the booth at the back of the shop—a small cubicle with an MDF door you could lock that was used for automated benefits payments. Not ideal, as there was a half-metre gap underneath it but better than nothing.

"Slow down!" I called out as Mhari pulled Tia's arm and they crawled towards the booth. Sudden movements, even those behind shuttered windows, attracted attention. A blast at the back made all of us jump. I slid across the floor, backing up against the booth to cover the gap. Tia snivelled, the sound all that more pitiful now that silence had descended once more.

At the front, a loud whump echoed through the shop. A body hitting the metal shutters at the front of the window? Scrapping outside. The scream of sirens and when they stopped, an automated crossbow firing. Tia continued to cry as Mhari took up a low-voiced mantra.

"Hush, hush, wee lassie, don't you cry. Mummy's gonnae buy you a mocking bird. If that wee bird doesnae sing, we'll off and find you a diamond ring..."

The three other people in the shop had backed up against the aisles too, all of us exchanging eye meets. They rummaged behind them, arming themselves with tins and jars, which wouldn't be much use, but I gave them the thumbs-up regardless. Today might see the first destruction of a vampire by baked bean bombardment.

"Watch out!"

The screech came from outside. Above us, a loud crack rang up and we dived for cover as tiny bits of glass rained down. No-one had pulled the shutters over the small skylight to the right of the central aisle and a figure dropped through the broken window and landed cat-like on the floor, before straightening up and looking about her.

The second she clocked me the ferocious scowl deepened.

Oh fantastic.

"You!"

Freya. A vampire who bore me a grudge for A) getting her locked up at the Argist Academy, and B) the far the worst crime of being Justin's girlfriend. Her appearance confirmed the answer to a question that had been niggling me for the past three days—the identity of the escapee from the Argist Academy last week.

She must be starving. Hunger intensified menace—her teeth bared, skin the colour of a white T-shirt that's been put in the wash with too many black items, skinny arms rope-like and the skin stretched taut across her jaw and cheek bones.

I placed my arms on either side of the cubicle. Freya sniffed the air, advancing towards me. "Move, you fat cow, or I'll break your neck."

A bluff. At least I hoped so. Vampire strength outdid that of humans but depended on age, and Freya's conversion had taken place a mere eight months ago.

A jar flew over one aisle, hitting her back and smashing to the ground, spilling out vinegar and pickled onions. Freya turned, cursing. Another jar hit her smack in the face. Whoever was flinging those jars had a cracking aim.

She drew back her arms and shoved the shelving next to her on one side. It wobbled from side to side as tins, jars and packets toppled onto those lying the other side before collapsing completely and pinning them in place—the swearing, cursing and groans evidence of injury. I hoped no-one was too badly hurt.

Threat from the other customers cut off, she whirled round to face me again.

"Out of my way, bitch!"

She was next to me in the blink of an eye, blasting me with the stink of decay—a vampire sign of starvation. It gave me an advantage, though it intensified her desperation too, and a desperate monster will do anything.

Her hands encircled my neck. "I said, move."

Behind me, Mhari's crying joined Tia's, sobs punctuating the 'hush wee baby' lyrics. Freya's grip tightened as the two of us twisted, me trying to free myself, as Freya did her best to thrust me to one side.

I drew my leg back and kicked her as hard as I could. She swore at me, but the hands stayed in place, as she pushed me backwards onto the floor. We hit the concrete surface—the bang to my head jolting me with pain so intense I wet myself.

All those weeks of mind control lessons... Concentrate, Maya! Get inside her head! She's weakened, too busy trying to kill you. Think how much she hates you!

Blinking, I saw her reach to the side. One of the broken jars—a piece of thin glass in a vicious point. She held it high above her with one hand, the other stretching my chin away from my neck. No prizes for guessing which vein she aimed for.

The glass appeared to move in slow motion.

Get in her head, get in her head... how though?

Put the image of Justin in her head—even better, Justin naked, a grin on his face as he looms above her...

Freya, I was wrong all along... You're the one I want. Not Maya, but you can't kill her because otherwise how can you return to Vamp Towers and me?

The sirens outside continued to wail so close and yet so far away. Voices in the background and Mhari and Tia crying. Far-off screaming that cut off suddenly and that glass shard still coming for me. Wasn't your life meant to flash in front of you at times like this?

Me, a small child, Sharon blowing her nose and telling me the two of us were on our own from now on. Me, a fourteen-year-old, Sharon, swollen-bellied and wiping her eyes as she confessed that my stepfather had bailed out and cleared all her savings while he was at it. Me, a fifteen-year-old, bathing baby Rosie because Sharon was upstairs weeping because the emergency programme had cancelled Rosie's appointment where she got vaccinated for free...

The depressing litany did no good. I wriggled, trying to dislodge Freya, who tightened her squeeze on my neck. I had to make her mistake me for Justin. I concentrated on summing him up, starting with his face and forehead, picturing the short, green-tipped dreads that surrounded it. the way his eyebrows jutted out, the way his eyes often glazed over when he looked at me when we were in bed and the shape of those generous lips as they whispered to her.

Oh, Freya. I can't wait for the two of us to tumble into bed. Let's escape—you and I. We'll rule Dunrovia. The vampire king and queen of the north...

Freya collapsed on top of me out for the count, the glass to one side and nowhere near my neck. Three Vampire Security guards burst in the front door. One of them bolted towards me, wrenching Freya off me and throwing her to one side as the other guard aimed his crossbow at her and...

BANG! Her eyes flew open. Confusion, then fear and a fury so fierce its red heat hit every bit of my body.

She exploded; her eyes, nose, mouth and teeth melting inwards as her face and body contorted into a ball and sprayed out black ash and slime all over the shop, the slop of it mixing with the vinegar on the floor. My ears rang as I spat out a mouthful of gunk and tried not to vomit.

The other guard held out a hand and yanked me to my feet. She whipped off her balaclava. "I saw you put her to sleep just as we battered the door down. Argist training?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and she grinned. "Nice job!"

Freya wouldn't have hesitated. That piece of glass had my name on it and yet, and yet and yet... 'Nice' job? Were many people that comfortable killing, especially when it was someone they'd known? Justin pretended indifference to Freya. How would he react when I told him that I'd help kill the woman converted to vampirism at the same time as him? The sulphuric stink clung to my clothes and hair.

"Over here, boss," another of the guards called out. "Casualty number three."

What? I whipped around and slammed my hand to my mouth.