London was a morgue.

The frost had descended and had left nothing unscathed. Roads and pathways sparkled with a crisp white coverlet of ice. The streets we'd travelled had been graveyard-quiet and although we were in a part of town where I didn't exactly expect to see much in the way of life, winter's touch had rendered the city as still and as cold as the dead.

Not quite dead, however, was the man currently pinned beneath me and I was becoming increasingly irritated by his struggles and refusal to give up. Still, I couldn't really blame him. Even though he was nothing but a low-level scumbag pimp who liked to try out all his girls on a regular basis, whether they wanted him to or not, he'd clearly been enjoying life before he'd stumbled across three vampires who'd decided that it was time for that life to come to an end. Skinny, with a rat-like face and very little in the way of visible muscle-tone, I never expected much of a fight to be honest, but sometimes it's the ones you least expect who almost catch you off guard. Almost. 

Earlier that evening, it was the hunger that had caught me off guard, hitting me harder in the gut than it had in a long time, maybe even since I'd been a fledgling when I'd thought the hunger would rip me apart if I didn't satiate it. And this time when it woke me from a sleep more blissful than I'd experienced in ages, tearing across my stomach like I hadn't fed in months, I knew immediately that I had to go hunting or things were going to become very unpleasant indeed. The events of the past few days had left me feeling ravenous, the release of my latent powers, the battle to keep them under wraps afterwards, it was using up my energy far quicker than normal and I need to replenish.

I needed to feed.

A darkened, graffiti-ravaged underpass not far from Clapham Junction Station probably wasn't most people's idea of a top London restaurant but the vintage was good, even if the vessel in which it was served left a lot to be desired.

We'd found him, Harper, Fenton and myself, teaching one of his girls – and I say girls, because she looked dangerously close to the legal age limit – that he could take whatever he wanted from her, whenever he wanted and that didn't just mean his generous cut of her measly earnings. Stumbling passed us, still doing up the zipper on her jeans and her eyes half-dazed from whatever shit the pimp was pumping through her veins, the girl barely gave us a second glance but her boss did. In fact, his eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw the three of us standing just inside the entrance of the underpass, the dim light in the tunnel barely penetrating the gloom.

"Who the fuck are you?" he spat, his thin, rodent features contorting into an indignant sneer. There was a snap of a flick-knife and a glint of steel in his hand. "And how the fuck did you get past Roach?"

Roach had been everything but roach-size, but the description had fit him perfectly considering he really was nothing but vermin. I'm quite sure to some he was not a guy to be messed with, his sheer bulk deterring anyone from stepping out of line, but his bulk also happened to be made up of close to three hundred pounds of soft puffy flesh as opposed to muscle and his bladder had given out just the same as any man half his size when Harper had slit his throat and drank voraciously from the wound.

"Surprisingly easily." Harper shrugged, wiping the corner of his mouth. "You should think about employing more capable staff. Roach really wasn't up to the job." He flashed him a brash grin.

The pimp's mouth opened and closed a couple of times as he stared at Harper, his brain clearly working overtime to try and process the elongated incisors and the very real threat that emanated from the three people in front of him. Humans don't want to believe it, you see. No matter what their eyes show them, their minds try to seek out the logical, their minds try to convince them that none of it is real. But this was real and he was about to find out just how real it was.

"Is this a fucking joke?" he eventually stammered, his ratty eyes darting over each of us. "Is this O'Reilly's way of scaring the shit out of me, because you can tell him from me, I've got his fucking money, okay? I've got it."

Fenton sniffed and looked over at me and Harper. "I don't know any O'Reilly, do you?"

Harper shook his head slowly. "Nope," he drawled. "Don't think I do."

"Then what the fuck is this?" The pimp's voice was taking on a delightful squeaky tone. My smile widened and it was then that his eyes found me, his brow wrinkling in confusion. I guessed he wasn't used to seeing girls down here unless of course they were on their knees for him. I was going to enjoy making this one squeal. "Who is she?" he demanded, brandishing the small but nasty looking blade at me with a noticeably trembling hand.

"She," said Fenton, pulling the gun from the holster inside his jacket and aiming it squarely at the pimp's head with a very steady hand. "Is the one you're going to pay. Only you're going to need a lot more than money, my friend."

My stomach groaned, my senses already going into overdrive from the scent of Roach's blood and from the thrill of watching Harper feed. I wasn't sure I could hold out much longer. My veins were roaring with a hunger that was pushing me to the edge of all rational thought, rapidly overwhelming me with a desire for nothing but soft warm flesh beneath me and taste of blood on my tongue.

"Don't you come any closer." The pimp's panic had spiked, electrifying the air with a tension that was almost palpable. "I'll fucking shank you, bitch."

"Who wants to bet he's going to run?" Fenton asked.

"Oh come on, no one in their right mind would take that bet," Harper said, rolling his eyes. "It's a dead cert."

Their laughter was lost in a rush of white noise that crowded my head as instinct took over. Focused solely on my prey, I began to move, driven by the thirst and the zing of excitement that buzzed over my skin, making the hair on the back of my neck rise with anticipation of that first bite.

He did run, of course, but he didn't get far.

Bringing him down much harder than I had intended, his chin hit the ground with a sickening crack and the ineffectual blade slipped from his grasp and skittered to a stop some distance away. He was momentarily stunned and I easily straddled his back, pressing myself against him as I curled my fingers into his lank hair, yanking his head towards me. Nuzzling at his neck, I detected the intoxicating thrum of his pulse, ignoring the smell of sweat, cheap aftershave and sex that lingered heavily on his skin and clothes.

When my incisors pierced his skin, I moaned against his throat, savouring the first hit and feeling the warmth spread through me, my body tingling with pure undiluted satisfaction. I vaguely wondered if this was how the girl felt, desperate to stoop to any level just to get her fix and here I was, on my knees in some grotty, damp underpass doing whatever I had to do to feed the addiction.

He fought until the very end, his feet frantically hammering against the ground, his cries never diminishing – that was until Harper intervened and clamped his mouth shut, allowing me to finish without fear of drawing anyone towards the noise. The whole time, he kept his eyes fixed on me, the heat of his gaze forcing me to bite down harder as if it was his firm body beneath mine and not the pimp's. When it was done and the pimp lay still beneath me, Harper pulled me to my feet, snaking a hand around the back of my neck and pressing his mouth hard against mine, slipping his tongue between my blood-stained lips. I groaned again, wanting to feed an addiction of a different kind until I heard Fenton's exaggerated cough coming from close by and turned to see him standing there, with his arms crossed.

"Any chance you two could leave this till later? We should really be getting back." He wrinkled his nose in disgust but I could see the faint flush patterning his cheeks.

"You need to lighten up, Grainger," Harper said. "Life isn't all about playing toy soldiers." Releasing me, he reached down, grunting as he hooked his hands under the pimp's armpits. "Stop standing there pretending you didn't enjoy the show and help me with rat boy here."

Fenton's cheek muscles twitched as he stared hard at Harper for a moment, his expression unreadable and I felt a pang of sadness for the aloof man who shared our grief, albeit for quite different reasons. Losing Garrick had hit us all hard but at least Harper and I still had each other.

Just when I thought the night might turn sour, he cracked a small wicked smile. "You mean you can't dispose of him yourself? You're losing your touch, Cain. Must be your age."

"Oh just grab his fucking legs, will you?"

Once they'd got rid of the bodies – Roach's being much harder to contend with than the pimp's – we began our journey back to the car, cutting through the alleys and tunnels of the estate. The grim grey apartment blocks were a concrete maze and each building was identical to the last, heavy black graffiti mixing with the odd colourful effort that failed to lift the dark, oppressive air that enveloped everything. From somewhere in a flat nearby, I could hear a baby crying. From another, I could hear the heavy pounding bass beat of furious garage music, the pungent stench of weed drifting down from an open window. I wouldn't have stepped foot in an estate like this when I was human and it never failed to amaze me how I managed to slip seamlessly into the shadows in places like this now, almost as if I was just another piece of graffiti inking the walls.

We stuck to the shadows now, just like we always did and as we walked, the verbal sparring between Harper and Fenton continued, both shooting comments back and forth as they battled like squabbling siblings. Unable to suppress a smile, I felt the tension in my muscles dissipate as I nestled into the comfortable bubble that had ballooned around us. I was surprised at how good this felt – at how right it felt, the three of us together. A sharp stab of guilt misted my vision until I glanced over at Harper and realised he was enjoying the spiky banter between them just as much as I was, his usual Fenton-induced dark scowl, replaced by a mischievous glint in his eyes. Distrust had turned to loyalty, open hostility had turned to ....what? I wasn't sure they liked each other yet, but I could sense that the tension that surrounded them had changed from something perilously close to the edge, to something far less likely to erupt into blood-letting.

"Did you really have to park the car so fucking far away?" Harper grumbled as we turned into a narrow alley between two apartment blocks.

"I'm sorry," Fenton grinned. "If I'd known you'd be wearing your heels, I wouldn't have...."

He stopped, the smile on his face fading to nothing and our laughter faded with it as we automatically halted beside him, all in thrall to that internal alarm warning us that danger was close by. With a low growl, Harper slunk against the wall, his trademark blade already in his hand as he crept the short distance to the end of the alley and peered round the corner. Moving to his side, we looked out to see two Varúlfur in human form standing close to the communal bins.

Immaculately dressed, as the Varúlfur often were, they stood in deep consultation. One of them removed a packet of cigarettes from inside his coat and offered one to his friend, before taking one himself and lighting it. As the friend leant forward, cigarette in mouth to meet the small flicker of flame, his face was illuminated for a split second and I sucked in a breath, cursing as I did so.

My rage levels spiked high as I watched Karl, Brandon's newest side-kick, take a long drag before blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth. I always knew I'd see him again, the one that had been implicit in the torture of Harper, the one that would have tortured me given half the chance, but I hadn't banked on seeing him quite so soon. I was thrilled to see the reddened scorch marks still evident around his eyes, but inside, I was burning, the fire bubbling under my skin as I fought to control my anger.

"What the fuck are they doing here, of all places?" Harper murmured.

"Looking for us maybe? Although I have no idea how they'd know we were here unless a scout picked us up somewhere along the way," Fenton replied, his eyes scanning the open area in front of the flats, checking the route ahead. "I think there's a way around, we just need to go back and cut through a little further up the estate."

"Wait," I said, sharply, grabbing his arm. "We're just going to walk away?"

"If they are looking for us, then there's bound to be more of them. Right now we have no idea how many we're dealing with and I don't know about you, but I'd rather get the hell out of here now before the cavalry arrive."

I turned back to Harper, certain that I could appeal to his vengeful side. "You know who that is, right? We get him and it's a serious blow to Brandon's personal army."

Harper pursed his lips, his face darkening as the memories of the past week still clung to him. "You don't need to tell me who he is, Megan. He and I spent a lot of time together, trust me." He sighed, glancing back to where they stood before his gaze slid back to me, resignation in his eyes. "But Fenton is right. We raise Hell here and we have no idea what's coming our way."

I stared at both of them, the frustration simmering to boiling point. "You're kidding me? Fenton, you could take them out from here! A couple of shots and they're finished."

"A couple of shots that would bring every low-life beast in the vicinity our way. We'd never get off the estate, Megan." His expression softened for a second. "Look, I understand where you're coming from and believe me, there's nothing I'd love more than to put a bullet through their skulls but this is neither the right place nor the right time. We didn't come out here for a fight. We're not here to engage, only to defend if we have to."

I clenched my fists but even in my rage, I knew he was right. I just didn't want him to be. Being near the Varúlfur never usually made me this angry. Terrified, yes, but no matter how furious they made me, the fear always won, overpowering every other thought or feeling. But things were different now. Fear had taken a back seat and seeing them here made me want to unleash everything I had, everything I was, but until I knew how to direct my powers without taking out those closest to me, I couldn't do a damn thing to satisfy the creature that lurked under my skin.

Emitting a deep exhale, I slammed my back against the wall and screwed my eyes shut.

"Okay, let's go," said Fenton.

"Wait," hissed Harper, holding up his hand. "Something's happening."

Hearing raised voices, I peered out from the alley, watching as two more Varúlfur appeared from the opposite block, dragging what appeared to be a young girl between them, who struggled and kicked in their grasp. For a moment I thought she might be the girl that we'd just seen in the underpass but as they got closer, I realised she wasn't just a girl at all.

"Oh shit," I whispered. "She's a vampire."

The vampire looked barely over fourteen or fifteen in human years, her long red hair matted and wild, dark streaks of dirt marring her youthful features, giving her a hardened edge. Thin with a fragile-looking frame, she fought against them never-the-less, even though the fear in her eyes told a different story. Hauled in front of Karl, the girl trembled visibly, her whole body shaking and twitching, her terrified gaze darting all around her as if she feared an attack from all sides. Brandon's huge bodyguard loomed over her and an exchange took place, although what was said I had no idea, but it made Karl throw his head back and laugh loudly. When he cracked a hand hard across her face, it came so fast that I even felt Fenton flinch beside me. The girl barely had time to fall to her knees, before they dragged her to her feet again, holding her there so she wouldn't collapse. Her head drooped, lolling onto her chest.

"We have to do something." I stared desperately at them. "They're going to kill her."

Fenton shook his head, vehemently. "There's three of us, four of them and god knows how many more. We can't help her; we need to get out of here."

"What? So what do we do? Just leave her to die?"

He turned on me, his mouth curling into a snarl. "Yes. That's exactly what we do. She's one girl, Megan. One girl. And you want to risk everything for her?"

"This isn't the days of the Cleansing anymore, Fenton. These aren't desperate times when we look out for ourselves and sacrifice our kind to save our own skin. We're past all that. Things are different. We're different. We stick together now; we don't turn against each other and the only way we can possibly ever defeat them is if we keep on doing that."

"A noble sentiment but sometimes you have to make a call on these things and as much as I hate to give her to them, we don't have a choice."

"Yes, we do," I insisted, looking to Harper for help but dismayed to see that he was eyeing me pensively, chewing on his lower lip. My heart sank. I didn't even know why I thought he'd agree with me, considering that when I'd met him, he'd probably been the most self-centered, selfish one of them all, cutting himself off from the rest of his kind and doing deals with the enemy just to stay alive. But there was one way I could get him on side. It was a low shot, I knew that and I dreaded seeing the hurt in his eyes, but I had to do something. I couldn't just walk away from this.

"Are you okay with all this?" I said, continuing without letting him answer. "If they don't kill her here, they're going to take her to wherever their new compound is and they're going to torture her. They're going to do to her exactly what they did to me. Exactly what they did to Jenny."

He flinched, just as I knew he would. Sparks erupted from his eyes, menace emanating from every pore. The last thing I wanted to do was dredge up the past, particularly when I'd done everything I could to bury it, but like Fenton said: I had no choice. Painful seconds ticked by.

"Fuck," Harper finally hissed, shaking his head and looking over at Fenton. "She's right. We have to do this."

"Fine," snapped Fenton, reaching into his jacket for his gun. "But just so you know, I think you two are fucking insane. This is insane."

Rounding the corner, he aimed the gun directly at Karl as he stalked boldly across the yard towards them, with Harper and I shadowing his every step. It was the girl who spotted us first, lifting her head as we approached and staring with wide panic-filled eyes. My anger rocketed when I saw the gash on her cheek, the bruise already mottling her skin. When Karl followed her gaze, his expression turned from one of irritation, to one of surprise. Puffing out his immense chest, his face twisted into a snarl as he stepped in front of the girl. Behind him, flashes of amber sparked in the eyes of the other Varúlfur, instinctively reacting to our presence but Karl's eyes didn't change immediately and while I had to applaud his self-control, I couldn't help but smile at his inability to hide the flicker of fear that lingered there when he spotted me. He knew exactly what I was capable of. His flesh still bore the scars.

"Hello Karl. Nasty case of sunburn you have there."

"Very funny," he sniped, before glancing at Harper. "Stopped squealing like a girl, have we, assassin? Shame, I was enjoying it before your girlfriend here turned up and saved your pathetic arse."

Harper bristled beside me. "Oh you mean when she forced all you snivelling fuckers to your knees? You looked good down there, by the way, just where the Varúlfur should be. Crawling on the floor."

Karl smirked. "You vermin still live in a dream world, don't you? Still thinking you can claw your way back up the food chain when the truth is you were never at the top to begin with. You're fighting for a dead race."

"As scintillating as this conversation is, we really need to be going, so why don't you just give us the girl and I'll reconsider blasting the flesh off your skull bone." Fenton's finger hovered over the trigger.

The huge Varúlfur chuckled. "This is suicide, you know that don't you? You really think you're quick enough to take us all out before we get to you? You're bloody nuts. You can fire that gun at me if you want, but you'll be dead within seconds and you know it too."

"He doesn't need to fire the gun," I said, stepping forward. "See?"

Raising my hand, I held it out in front of me and watched Karl's face drop as the warm glow effervesced from my skin, dancing like a frenzy of fireflies in the air. It twisted and curled around my hand as I wiggled my fingers and I was half-mesmerized by it myself, feeling the buoyant heat swelling in my gut and the warmth travelling up my arm. I knew I didn't have much time.

"Be a good boy Karl and send the girl over, otherwise this time I'll have to weld your eyelids shut permanently."

Somewhere inside, I knew I shouldn't have been enjoying this so much. Somewhere inside, I knew I shouldn't have been so thrilled by the look of sheer terror on this face. But most of all I knew I shouldn't have wanted to make good on my promise. And I did want to. I wanted to do it so badly that it almost physically hurt me not to.

With a sound that bordered on a pained growl, Karl nodded at the two Varúlfur still holding onto the girl and they let her go, shoving her towards us. She stumbled, clutching onto Harper who managed to catch her before she could fall.

"Thank you, boys." I smiled sweetly and looked pointedly at Fenton. With a shake of his head and a deep sigh, he fired off three shots in quick succession, catching two of the Varúlfur in the head and only succeeding in hitting Karl in the arm as he managed to jump out of the way just in time. Flying backwards, he hit the other remaining Varúlfur and they went tumbling to the ground in a jumble of arms and legs. From somewhere not far away, a plaintive howl echoed through the estate.

"Come on!" I cried.

Grabbing the girl's hand, I turned and ran, following the path back down the alley with Harper leading the way and Fenton close behind. The girl's nails dug into my skin as we fled, but I paid little attention, forcing her to run faster, the sound of our footsteps ricocheting off the walls of the apartment block. Clearing the alley, we took a left, fleeing past another set of communal bins where the waste was overflowing and strewn across the yard, empty bottles and tins sparkling with frost. Kicking it out of the way as we ran, I could hear shouts and barked orders coming from behind us and felt the girl tugging on my hand. I knew she must have been exhausted and terrified, but I yanked on her arm, willing her to keep up.

Finding our way through the maze, I almost laughed out loud when I saw Fenton's car up ahead, parked in a space just near a garage block where half the garages were nothing but burnt-out shells. Safely inside the car, having practically pushed the poor petrified girl into the back seat, we barely had enough time to belt up before Fenton pulled away, leaving nothing but a scream of tyres in our wake. Staring out the rear window, I spotted the dark gigantic forms of the Varúlfur pursuing us and knew some of them had transformed, risking everything to capture their prey in a very public place. This was a place where people knew better than to venture outside on hearing gunshots. I wondered how many might be lured out hearing the howling of some pained animal.

As we sped away, leaving the concrete housing estate behind us, I turned my attention back to the girl, who instead of being relieved that she had just been saved from the hands of death, seemed more agitated than ever. She clawed at the door, yanking on the handle and I gave a silent thanks for the central locking. Getting a chance to study her up close, I felt a wave of sadness as I took in her dishevelled state. Her clothes were filthy and torn, her hands caked in dirt and dried blood.

"Hey," I said, reaching out to try and soothe her. "You're safe, it's okay, they've gone."

Shrieking she lashed out at me, her hand catching me across the face, her nails drawing blood. For a moment everything was still. A couple of seconds was all it took. A couple of seconds for her stunned expression to twist into something so utterly feral. A couple of seconds for the realisation to hit me. With a high-pitched squeal, she lunged at me, throwing herself across the back seat and I found myself staring directly into a pair of fevered blood-shot eyes as I frantically fought to keep her at bay.

The car screeched to a halt, almost knocking her off balance, but she came at me again, all snapping jaws and a furry of limbs. I felt the door give behind me, rough hands dragging me out of the car and I collapsed against Harper, gasping for air. He wrapped his arms tightly around me as Fenton shoved the girl back onto the seat and slammed the door, hitting the lock button on his key fob before turning around to glare furiously at me.

"Well this is just fucking perfect, isn't it?" he snarled through gritted teeth. "You risk our lives to confront the Varúlfur and all for what? A Feeder? God, you really out-did yourself this time didn't you? You saved a Feeder! Congratu-fucking-lations, Megan!"

Behind him, the Feeder's hungry eyes never left mine as she hammered relentlessly at the window, banging her fists against it again and again, leaving bloodied smears on the pane and looking like she would rip the whole car apart just to get to me.