Justin and Lewis had turned the corner as the tunnel collapsed behind them, the din and the screams deafening. "Keep going," Lewis grunted. "The end of this tunnel takes you to the exit near the Argist Academy."

They both ducked their heads as brickwork continued to rain down, and dust and dirt combined to make visibility almost impossible. Justin had closed his mouth to keep out the dust, but he felt his nostrils suck it up and even the pores of his skin seemed to drink it in.

"This way," Lewis said, as they reached a junction where one tunnel led left, the other that would take them to the exit near the Argist Academy. Lewis opted for the left; his instincts proven right a second later when the tunnel to the right collapsed in on itself too. The unholy noise drowned out any further attempts at conversation, and Justin gave up, concentrating only on fleeing as fast as possible along the narrow brickwork that remained intact for now.

At last, the end of another tunnel came into sight, and the two of them skidded to a halt in front of the narrow ladder there—the crash of bricks and screaming distant for the moment.

"Where are we?" Justin asked, reading the co-ordinates on the small tin plaque fastened on the wall.

"Balgreddan," Lewis replied, naming the far-off housing estate beyond Vamp Towers. He peeked out the top of the tunnel entry to work out if it was safe enough to emerge.

They stepped out onto an old playing field, two football goal nets either end, the broken posts signalled no-one had used them for a long time. Old-fashioned timber houses with corrugated iron roofs and boarded-up windows lined the side of the field. Not a place where many people lived then.

"What's the plan now?" Lewis asked.

"No idea," Justin said, stretching out his arms as Lewis did the same. They stared at each other.

"Wow, you're not a vampire anymore, you're a ghost," Justin said. Lewis's grin cracked the white and dust-smudged coating on his face, canines glinting. "So are you." He held up his arm, checking the sleeve of the denim jacket he wore, also thoroughly coated in dust and dirt. "I stole this jacket off this rich white twat. S'pose I'll need to throw it out now."

About to brush some of the dust off how own jacket, Justin stopped suddenly, remembering something.

"Lara. Just before we dived back into the tunnels. She taunted the guards and then there was this explosion and..."

Lewis nodded. "I heard it too. Dunno if it's any comfort, but Lara was one of them."

"One of what?"

"A vampire who's had enough. You recognise them after a while. They've been around for decades, centuries sometimes, and the thing they envy most about humans is their mortality. If she's gone—and you don't know for sure—I think she baited them deliberately, knowing that her destruction would be a worthy sacrifice."

Comfort. A bit, perhaps. At some point, Justin promised himself, he and his vampire friends would gather and do something that commemorated Lara. If, and it still was an if, she'd gone.

The wind changed, supplying the reason for the area's lack of inhabitants. The large round towers to the right must be septic tanks—the sharp ammonia stink of them making the brothers choke and clap their hands over their noses.

They scuttled away, moving as fast as they could from the smell. Lewis stopped in front of the trees at the far side, their loamy earthy scent disguising the sewage.

"D'you remember the Galens?" Lewis asked, making Justin squint at him. The name jogged a memory, but he couldn't recall why.

"Olaf. His ancient grandfather. That old house."

Oh, of course. When Lewis had been sharing his experiences with him post his escape from the Argist Academy, he'd been in his head that time Cordelia had taken them to that old stately home where the Galens lived. He remembered the library with its old, red-covered books, and the wine they'd served him in pewter glasses.

"It's nearby," Lewis said, gesturing towards the surrounding trees. At the time, Cordelia had pointed out that the Scots Pines that dwarfed them had once upon a time been mere seedlings, and that she'd been there two hundred years ago, something he'd found oddly reassuring at the time. Many things might change in two hundred years, but the grass, the trees, the sand dunes and the hills provided continuity, anchoring you to the world.

They must have come much farther than Justin had originally thought.

"And?" he asked.

"I'm willing to bet Cordelia's holed up there. It's where she retreats from time to time. She thinks she's in charge of the old man; the old man hates her."

Vampire relations never made sense to Justin. He supposed those who followed the traditional vampire path recognised they were like tigers, rather than lions. They hunted not in packs, but alone, and any of them encroaching on each other's territory presented unwanted competition.

Lewis nodded in agreement.

"So, we go get her."

"What?"

Lewis set off. The woods were densely thicketed, even at this time of the year, but a thin, well-trodden pathway led them through the trees. "Who witnessed that early meeting? Agreed to work on letting vampire numbers run out of control?"

"Cordelia."

Lewis picked up his pace, forcing Justin to jog to keep up. "Yup. Me and you find her and force her to admit everything on film, so that it backs up what James Hamilton said. It'll add much more credibility, right?"

"Force Cordelia?"

They'd reached the perimeter of the forest—the house within sight, its appearance the exact match of old horror films where creepy men hid out in deserted castles and tricked innocent passers-by into stepping inside.

"Yeah. Cordelia's not that powerful a vampire," Lewis answered. "She doesn't have a twin for a start. She can't mind read or do this."

He dashed his hand out, a whip crack that sliced through the half-metre circumference of the tree next to him, that wobbled and toppled to the ground, its branches whooshing through the air.

"You try it," he ordered Justin, who found he could do the same, and for a few seconds, the knowledge of that vast power made them both grin from ear to ear. Today, they'd teleported, flown at speed along a tunnel that collapsed around them, and now this.

"We could be kings of the world," Lewis said, dangling that offer there. Tempting, oh so tempting... Vampire twins, the most powerful beings in the world, Greek god like in power, and...

Justin's phone, its signal blocked for so long thanks to their underground excursion, burst into life, the bleeps signalling multiple messages. Where are you? Are you okay? Answer me, FFS. Maya. He crashed back down to earth.

King of the World, or something better?

"Only room for one king," he said, tone light, "but you're right. She's not that great a vampire. I always wondered how she got away with things time after time, but if Vampire Security were ordered to look the other way, then it was nothing to do with her power or skill at eluding them."

"How many vampires will be in there?" Justin asked.

"Only three, hopefully. Cordelia, the old man and Olaf. The old man won't put up a fight. He's been around almost a thousand years. Cordelia used to hang around with them, her and Arnaud, but they had some big blow-up years ago."

The house wasn't that exposed, but approaching it made Justin shudder, as if vampires might explode out of nowhere any second now. They reached what must have been the house's stables in years gone by, the cobbles underneath threaded between with overgrown grass.

Up close, Justin recognised the heavy wooden door around the back. If he remembered rightly, it led down a corridor to the library. His twin tip-toed around the stables, wincing as his feet crunched on broken glass underfoot. They froze in place, letting the seconds tick by. No-one had heard.

"Here," Lewis said, tossing a length of leather strip to Justin. Once upon a time, it would have been used as a bridle. "The old bitch won't come quietly, so we'll need to tie her up."

That was going to prove challenging. Not to mention attempting to fly several kilometres with a trussed-up vampire in tow. They crept back out of the stables, something instinctual, making Justin tuck his phone under a rusty old bucket in one of the old stalls.

"Do we take them by surprise?" Justin asked. His twin nodded in response, pointing at the roof.

"See that? It's a skylight above the library. We'll crash through that."

Best of luck to us.

I don't need it—I'm the King of the World.

They exchanged another one of those grins; cockiness disguising nerves Justin knew for certain Lewis felt too. But fear never counted, so long as you took action regardless, and only an idiot wouldn't suffer a rush of terror-fuelled adrenaline when faced with a fight like this.

They rocked back on their heels and surged upwards, landing with a thump on the sloping roof. Lewis tipped backwards as he struggled to find his balance, and Justin had to snatch his arm to stop him from falling backwards.

They heard them before they saw them—a whoosh as stakes fired at them from below. What the...

Eight Vampire Security guards, crossbows in hand and tilted up at them, stood at the front of the house, the familiar black Vampire Security van parked nearby.

Cordelia's gonna be keener to come with us than we originally guessed.

Yeah. Might not need to tie her up after all.

Someone, it seemed, had also remembered that Cordelia had been at that original meeting, and might spill the beans. To be on the safe side, they'd sent the guards to finish her off now she represented too much of a risk.

How many others do you think will be inside? Justin ducked as another flurry of stakes whizzed past his head.

There's another van parked down there, so at least eight more.

Terrific, but they'd come this far and weren't they the Kings of the World? As another stake sailed too close by, Justin crashed through the skylight, closely followed by his brother, glass shattering all around them. He'd landed next to one bookcase, his brother on the opposite side. The ancient dusty armchair next to the fire where the old man had sat was empty, though a fire in the hearth next to the chair crackled and burned.

"They're in the library!" The sharp screech came from the hallway.

The footsteps outside separated. One group must be about to burst in here, while another had gone after Cordelia, the old man or Olaf, maybe all three. He put his weight behind the bookshelf. It reached a metre above him, as did the one Lewis stood behind. Lewis clocked what he was doing and copied him. Together, they shoved the cases as hard as possible. The shelves' heavy oak bases skidded along the pave stones, books flying everywhere, and slammed in front of the far wall.

"The door's blocked!" Another shout from the outside.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Find another way to get in there."

More footsteps—this time running away. Off to find something the guards could use to batter their way in, presumably. The bookshelf trick had bought Justin and Lewis time, but not Cordelia. Above them, a black capped face peered in through the skylight, the guard's crossbow pointing at them. They must have climbed up onto the roof and decided to enter the same way Justin and Lewis had.

Justin bared his teeth. His brother ripped aside his jacket, thumping his fist against the left side of his chest. "C'mon then, big man!"

The second's distraction allowed Justin to shoot upwards. His outstretched arm caught the man under his chin, the brute force of the blow snapping the guard's neck and breaking his spinal cord. He fell backwards, his body taking two of the other guards who'd climbed up onto the roof with him.

Justin dropped back down to the library floor. Christ, I killed him.

He'd have killed you.

Lewis shook his head, the quick shake of his head communicating impatience at Justin's fit of conscience. They didn't have time for wallowing in regret. A crash rang out, as a thick metal tipped battering ram burst through the door and bookshelf, scattering what remained of the books everywhere. One bounced off the floor and flew straight into the fire. The entire room, with its surplus of paper, dusty velvet furnishings, woodworm-ridden panelling and oil lamps...

Oil lamps.

Lewis joined him as they shoved the books onto the floor, working at a super-speed level. The books toppled, domino-like, their thumps to the ground sending out clouds of dust. Justin ripped out the pages of some of the books on the top, scrunching them into balls.

History lessons taught you only terrible people burned books. If, fifty years from now, historians assessed Dunrovia at its, fingers crossed, turning point, they might decide books were burned here for good, not bad.

Sure they will, bro.

Can't believe I'm doing this again.

Lewis twirled a lock of his green-tipped hair. Bye-bye dreadlocks.

The oil lamps must fit with the old man's view of the world—a lot better before electricity came along, the illumination they offered far gentler than modern light. Justin picked the one nearest to him. The heavy metal base supported a glass bulb. He dashed against the wall, petrol like fumes hitting the air, and threw it around him, oil droplets spilling over the floor, rainbow colours reflected in the light's retraction.

Rolled-up pages torn from a book served as a taper, the yellow paper furling inwards as the flames from the fire caught the end. He tossed it into the middle of the book pile, which took light immediately as orange-red flames whooshed upwards.

At the front of the room, Lewis flung around more oil from another lamp. The room went up, radiating ferocious heat as fire burned through books, shelves and the panelling. The shouts at the other side of the door turned to alarm as the guards realised the hole that they'd created in the door had allowed the fire to escape.

They'd both done this before. Stepped through flames and survived to tell the tale. But like that earlier flight through a collapsing tunnel, enough of the human remained there to make it a thoroughly unpleasant experience.

Justin could see his skin blistering as the flames engulfed him. The bookshelf they'd shoved against the door had fallen away, and the fire licked around the hole in the door that was now big enough to step through.

He grabbed a third lamp and climbed over the remains of the books and the shelving, followed by Lewis. Most of the guards had fled. Two remained, facing them at the end of the hallway. Justin lobbed the oil lamp in their direction, sending a fresh torrent of fire that charged towards the guards. They turned tail and bolted.

What now? Lewis. That mirror reflection his twin always provided him took on a nightmarish edge. Lewis more like a cameo than the picture of a human, his features blurred and indistinguishable.

We wait it out and then—

"Did you come here for me?"

Cordelia stood behind Lewis, those once white marble features blackened too and her vibrant red hair reduced to stubble on her head.

Justin nodded. "We want you to tell everyone the truth about what happened all those years ago. How you made a pact with the people who then founded companies and political parties who profited from vampires."

"Why should I?" The trademark defiance was there. Griffin, Lewis, anyone who'd ever known Cordelia said the same thing—she did nothing unless it served her interests.

"If you tell people the truth, there will be mass protests where everyone demands the end of Vampire Security and Sunshine Health. Handy for you, seeing as both organisations have decided you're too dangerous to keep around."

No reply. The fire and the heat warped visibility. Vampire body language worked differently to human—the reactions slower and faster at the same time, but from where Justin stood, reading her proved impossible.

"Sunshine Health and Vampire Security aren't the winning side any longer," he added, doing his best to sound authoritative, "and the secret to surviving so long is when you recognise who's losing and swap sides, right?"

God, make her agree and quickly. Any longer, and Justin's body threatened to dissolve into a pool of liquid.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Lewis fiddling with the leather strap still in his hand. Plan A then, where they took her anyway. But even the thought of the strength they would need to do that, as their bodies battled against flames, exhausted him.

"We'll film you." Say yes, you stupid bitch. "You don't need to go anywhere. And then you can vanish. Find a safer country to hang out in."

Another figure stepped into the hallway beside Cordelia. The old man. At least, that was who Justin took the figure to be. A blackened skeleton stood there, yellowy eyes peering at them, and radiating malevolence. "The young man's right.

"They've destroyed my home," the old man continued, "though you started it, Cordelia, bringing those unspeakable people here. The entire blame for Olaf's demise lies at your door."

Ah. Justin and Lewi's heroics in the library might well have saved Cordelia and the old man, but not Olaf.

"Have her! She and I will not be living out our immortality together any longer."

The old man shoved Cordelia, sending her stumbling down the hallway towards Justin and Lewis.

The arm Justin grasped didn't seem to belong to Cordelia. He remembered her as steel-like. This version felt as if it might crumble to dust if he pressed too hard.

Icy-blue eyes met his. If he hadn't known better, Justin might have said he saw sadness there—pain at the old man's rejection. She blinked. No, he must have been mistaken.

Time to go.

Yeah, we'll film her confession in the stables.

Where instinct had persuaded Justin to leave his phone. It wouldn't have survived the inferno. They pushed their way out of the house passed the flames intent on destroying everything in there.

AUTHOR'S NOTE - thanks for reading! if you're enjoying this story, please vote and share it if possible. Next update, Tuesday 15th September, 2021.