Jonathan Dupont was nowhere to be seen by the time Kyle and I returned to our flat. He skedaddled two minutes after we'd left, Sharon said, tight-lipped. And no, he had left no contact details either.

She took me in, eyes scanning my face and head. "Have you injured yourself?"

I shook my head.

"Liar. Sit down on the sofa and let me take a look at you."

She made more of a fuss of Kyle—one tiny scratch to his arm—than me, insisting on cleaning the 'wound' and bringing him tea and biscuits. Mirac was in the cot in our bedroom, fast asleep, seemingly unperturbed by his recent experiences. I kissed the tips of my fingers and touched them to his forehead briefly and he made a snuffling noise before turning the other way.

Kyle stood at the door, watching me. Approval, I guessed, of the new, more maternal Maya. Guilt floored me as I thought of those children who'd died. If only, if only they'd been as lucky as Rosie, vaccinated finally after all those years me and Sharon had hovered protectively over her, and now able to go to school safe and secure.

Why the hell was the world so terrible and why did I still feel so powerless against it, when I'd always assumed becoming a member of the assembly would change everything.

Sharon insisted she and Rosie stay the night in case Kyle or I suffered after-effects. Concussion could take a while to kick in, she said, and I might be woozy or confused later. I said 'yes', more because Mirac might need her. He was only just out of the hospital, and I'd never paid enough attention to the baby first aid she'd tried to teach me. I must, must ask her to show me what to do in case of emergencies.

Everyone agreed at once when I suggested we order takeaway, unable to face the thought of cooking for four people. Rosie waited until I hobbled into the kitchen to help Sharon get plates and cutlery. She bounced from foot to foot, Woofy wriggling his bottom next to her and tilting his head at the same angle as hers. Sometimes, they looked remarkably like each other—Woofy's coppery long ears resembling Rosie's golden curls.

"Do you want to tell me something, Rosie?" I reached up to the cupboard where we stored the crockery.

Rosie shot Sharon a wary glance. Sharon put her hands on her hips. "Rosie. You're not to bother Maya. The last few days have been tough for her."

"But he was dead worried."

I put the plates on the sideboard and turned to face them both as they glared at each other—one tiny, strong-willed person facing a much bigger, strong-willed person. Woofy planted his bottom next to Rosie's feet. Sharon might be the one who bought his food, but he slept in Rosie's room at night. He knew where his loyalty lay.

"Who was worried?" I asked. Surely not Jonathan Dupont, who'd scarpered at the first sign of danger, despite those superior mind control skills that would have come in handy had he accompanied Kyle and I to the estate. And who'd spent nineteen years of my life so far not thinking about me at all.

Sharon yanked open the cutlery drawer next to the sink. "No-one!"

I twisted so that she couldn't see Rosie and mouthed the question, "Who, Rosie?" My sister patted Woofy's head. "Justin. We saw him when we took Mirac and Woofy for a walk."

"For God's sake, Rosie!" Sharon expostulated, throwing her hands in the air.

In the living room, Kyle had stuck the TV on—the familiar music of the six o'clock news segueing into an item about this afternoon's attack. A solemn voice droned on about how residents were blaming the government, condemning the liberalisation of the laws and demanding an inquiry.

"Maya," he called out. "You're on the TV."

The solemn voice continued. "Maya Dupont, member of the assembly for the Garshake area was part of the operation to rescue the children."

At least they got that right.

"However, two children died in the attack and the estate's residents want answers. Why was this school, one Ms Dupont backed, allowed to be constructed to such shoddy standards, and why has Ms Dupont championed the building of new accommodation for vampires a mere stone's throw from this estate with its many vulnerable residents?"

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

I bolted to the living room. The reporter, one I recognised as continually hostile to our government, stood at the far side of the Garshake Estate, beyond its pitiful boundaries. The walls and trees that posed no barrier to vampires.

Another camera view zoomed in on the new estate. It wasn't fancy, but the red-brick houses with their shiny doors and windows, the lack of graffiti and litter and even the small play park looked much smarter than the Garshake Estate with its decades-worth of neglect.

The inhabitants of the new estate were under the radar so far, as our government's planning department had spent hours in meetings planning a careful communication strategy where we convinced the public that housing vampires here would pose no threat.

The reporter had beaten us to it. Even as she delivered the news, I spotted placards and banners. People were gathering there to protest already. The phone in my pocket buzzed.

"Don't answer that," Kyle said.

"I'll be quick," I promised, and he rolled his eyes.

The caller was Jilly, our PR person. Could I make my way to the Bellsmyre Estate to mollify the protestors? As they were protesting in my constituency, it was only fair that I dealt with it.

Sharon snatched the phone off me. "Sorry," she said. "My daughter was seriously injured today, and someone poisoned her little boy a few days ago. She's not doing anything for a couple of days, but when she returns to work, she'll deal with it then."

She hung up before Jilly could protest any further and switched my phone off.

I blew her a kiss. The onetime successful MyTV star, Argist fighter and now member of the government of this country still needed her mum to ride to her rescue occasionally.

Kyle switched channels, settling on a game show.

Much better.

Back in the kitchen, I stuck the kettle back on. The audience on the game show in the background chanted—part of the show's formula where they voted for contestants to leave or go.

The doorbell jangled. Our takeaway must have arrived. Kyle offered to get the door and pay for the food. Sharon took the plates into the living room. Rosie drifted in once more, and I crouched down so that I was on her level.

"Rosie, what did Justin say?" I whispered.

She blinked—baby blue eyes meeting mine. "He said he knew the bad vampire attacked the school," she must mean Cordelia, "and he came here to find out if you were okay. But you killed them, didn't you, Maya?"

If only. I shook my head.

"He said to tell you." She screwed her eyes up, trying to remember what he'd said.

"Tell me what?"

"He's looking out for you. Yes! That's what he said. He swore to Sharon he's trying to keep you safe and—"

"Who's trying to keep you safe?"

Kyle, his arms stacked with take-away boxes.

Christ. The sight of him made the breath catch in my throat. Had it only been two days ago that I'd sworn to change, promised myself and him that there would be no more secrets and no more mooning after vampires.

I straightened up. "Justin. He came here earlier. He'd heard about the attack and he was concerned."

Sharon caught the end. "I told him he didn't need to worry. 'She's got Kyle,' I said. 'And he can look after her just fine.' Not that I wasn't having kittens myself, but that vampire's got no business fretting about you, and I told him he's not to come round here again."

Kyle lowered the boxes to the sideboard. I tried to read him. Anger? Irritation? What?

"Quite right, Mum." I kept my voice light. "Though for the record, I'm quite good at looking after myself."

All this macho posturing was getting on my nerves. But thankfully, Kyle didn't seem too bothered. I'd got away with it. He opened the bag of prawn crackers and offered them around.

Stuffed full of food and unable to keep my eyes open any longer, I made my excuses half-way through the film we were watching and headed for bed. Kyle joined me as I stood over the cot watching Mirac sniffle and snuffle, his thumb jammed in his mouth.

Kyle tugged at his blanket, pulling it up under Mirac's chin.

"Sleep tight, wee man," he said, slinging his arm around my shoulder.

I echoed his words, yawning half-way through.

As I tried to move off, his grip tightened. "Maya, you won't leave me, will you?"

I faced him. "Of course not. Where's this—"

"Because if you did," his tone didn't change, the words still friendly and conversational, "Mirac would come with me, and you'd never see him again. Any judge in the land would take my side. Doesn't matter if he's been vaccinated or not, 'cause no-one thinks vampires should go anywhere near small kids."

With that, he smiled and kissed my cheek.

AUTHOR'S NOTE - thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I hit a blip a few weeks ago where I got hopelessly muddled trying to work everything out, but I think I've sorted the story out and I've written the end so I know where I'm going... Anyway, the next update will be Tuesday 1 June, 2021. Have a nice weekend, y'all.