"Move out of the bloody way, Megan."

Charlie, the stocky, shaven-headed one from Edward's crew, stood in front of me, brandishing his blade as if it were my flesh he wanted to slice open and not the Feeder's, who sat bound in the room behind me. I took a step closer, feeling the deadly point of the knife push against my chest. From nearby, Harper hissed a warning, although right then I had no idea if that warning was directed at Charlie or directed at me.

Bringing the girl back here had been a risky move. Fenton had wanted to put a bullet in her head right then and there, but despite her attack upon me, I just couldn't let him do it. Standing near the car and watching in horror at her frenzied, maniacal efforts to reach me, I saw something in the girl's eyes that drew me in. There was something beyond the hunger. Something beyond the thirst. I saw a sadness there, a deep aching sadness that reminded me of a girl I once knew, left to fend for herself in a world where everyone had forgotten her. This one was too young to be on her own, too young to be lost in a city where she was an easy target for every Varúlfur beast that stalked the streets. As she'd hammered her fists against the window and pressed her forehead against the pane, smearing the blood on her skin, I'd silently cursed the one who had made her and left her to look after herself.

I knew right then that I couldn't do the same.

"You're not having her, Charlie," I said, jutting out my chin in stubborn defiance. "You want to try your luck with me, then go right ahead, but you'll have to slice open my chest and cut me in two before I'll let you kill her."

While I didn't believe Charlie really wanted to hurt me, I had a horrible feeling that he would feel compelled to cross the line in order to get to the Feeder. Then again, looking at many of the angry faces around the room, he probably wasn't the only one. My decision to bring her back hadn't exactly been met with much enthusiasm by any of the group and right then I felt the odds stacking against me by the second, the weight of their anger pressing in on all sides.

"Do you even have the faintest idea what you have in that room?"

"Yes," I spat back. "She's a vampire and what's more, she's just a kid. She deserves our help, not this."

"Killing her is the only way to help her."

I flinched as a hand touched my arm and I turned to see Edward standing there, his black eyes crinkled with concern. "The lad here has a point, lass. Feeders are no good. They'll turn on yer as soon as look at yer. Aye, I know she's just a young slip of a thing, but that doesn't make her any less dangerous and mark my words, she is dangerous. Even if she doesn't attack one of us here, which I'm sorry to say is highly likely, then the chances are that she will bring all sorts to our door. We can't have that, girl. Yer know we can't."

I stood my ground. "What I can't do, Edward, is sanction her murder."

Charlie laughed harshly. "Murder? Are you bloody kidding me?" His face twisted with scorn. "Didn't you get the memo or something? We kill people. That's what we do. You want to start calling it murder, then you might want to re-think how you access your food source."

"This is different," I insisted, dismayed to see Harper exhale, irritation deep and heavy in his eyes. "She at least deserves a chance."

"And how do you know she didn't get a chance, eh?" Charlie waved the knife towards the door. "How do you know that she didn't kill her maker and has been running rampant through the city ever since? Face it, Megan, you don't know anything about that girl and yet you think she deserves a second chance. You're bloody mad."

"Yeah I told her that," Fenton said, from where he was standing, casually leaning against the wall as he surveyed the chaos I had created. I shot him a dark glare which he returned with an irritating I-told-you-so shrug. I knew getting him on side would be a tall order, but I'd at least hoped for some back-up when facing the others. With Fenton now clearly against me and Harper uselessly mute on the subject, I realised that I was completely on my own with this one and maybe rightfully so. It was foolish and risky. Not that it didn't burn a little knowing that they didn't back me.

"And you also agreed to save her, Fenton or have you forgotten that?"

"Yes and look where that got us," he said, jabbing a finger at me. "An altercation with the Varúlfur that we really didn't need right now, a very public chase through a housing estate and a Feeder that by rights, should be dead. Yes, I went along with you but at the time I didn't have much choice did I?"

"How typical of you to wash your hands of something when it suits you," I taunted. "It's getting to be a bit of a habit, first Oxleas and now this..."

A shadow passed over Fenton's face as he broke away from the wall, crossing the room rapidly to where I waited, his fists clenched, his whole body taut as if ready to launch himself at me. The room erupted into a volley of shouts and curses as Harper finally moved into action, stepping between us and barring Fenton's way. I flashed Fenton a small triumphant smile even though I didn't feel particularly triumphant in that moment. My words had cut deep, just as I knew they would and I inwardly cursed myself for sinking so low and striking him with the one thing I knew would hurt him the most. The pain radiated from his eyes, sinking deep into my heart and I looked away, unable to endure the evidence of my attack.

"Okay, you know what, that's enough." Harper's voice cut through the tumultuous noise, bringing a surprising and welcome halt to the disorder. He gestured towards Fenton. "You, back off right now. Get a fucking grip. And you..." He stared me down with a hard look that would have once sent me scuttling as far away from his as possible, fearful of what he might do next. "You need to listen. Whether you like it or not, they're right about this. I've dealt with way more Feeders than you have over the years and trust me when I say that, no matter how distasteful the task, you just have to dispose of them as quickly as you can. I've heard of whole groups being slaughtered because of the reckless actions of a Feeder. I've watched a Feeder literally eat a man's flesh just to feed their addiction." His face softened as his gaze raked over mine. "I get what you're trying to do here, I really do, but there comes a point when you have to realise that you can't save everyone. Feeders are a lost cause."

"Um, actually, that's not strictly true."

The voice that interrupted had a slight nervous edge to it, but it still somehow managed to halt the growing tension that was threatening to overspill into something ugly and uncontrollable.

Maggie McLeod, the Scottish vampire who Lucius seemed to have become quite attached to recently, always seemed to have that effect on people I'd noticed. While I knew she was a bloody ruthless fighter when the situation called for it, she had a warmth and amiability that made her instantly likeable and she was a calming influence on the more highly-strung members of the group. Including me.

Stepping forward into the melee, she gave an almost apologetic smile. "It's not true that Feeders can't be saved. Back when I was in Edinburgh, there was a Feeder from another group that was rehabilitated. He went off the rails after his blood-father was killed by the local Varúlfur clan, went on quite a rampage and ended up attacking a teenager. They found her body in a ditch just outside the city. She'd been totally messed up and he'd barely done a thing to cover up what he'd done. It caused quite a stir in the media from what I recall mainly because of the Menzies case the year before."

"The Menzies case?" I asked

"The guy who killed his friend and drank his blood?"

I shook my head in confusion.

"The press had a field day with it," she explained. "Allan Menzies was obsessed with Queen of the Damned and was convinced a vampire in the film told him to kill his best friend. He bludgeoned the guy to death and drank his blood, claiming it would make him immortal. When the girl was found, the media went crazy with it and everyone became fixated on the idea that vampires were loose in the city."

"So why didn't his group kill him?"

"Simple. The death of his blood-father effectively made him leader. They knew the group couldn't cope with the instability of not one, but two leaders being killed and decided to try and save him. If they didn't, the chances were high that the group would fracture apart and on their own they'd get picked off one by one by the Varúlfur. "

"So how did they save him?"

"Much like they'd treat your average addiction," she said with a shrug. "Cold turkey. They locked up the guy and starved him, then slowly they started introducing feeds just so he could get back on track with a normal routine. By all counts, it worked and the group still exist there, although their numbers have been severely depleted."

"Aye, the Scottish Varúlfur are a brutal lot," said Edward, raising a wild bushy brow. "Some say they barely spend any time these days in human form. But Maggie is right about the Edinburgh group. I heard the same story on my travels, but that's one Feeder, lass and by all accounts he was a strong vampire before he became addicted to the blood-pull. She's just a girl."

"Just a girl?" My voice crept up an octave.

Edward shifted uncomfortably. "Nay, lass, that's not what I meant. Girl, boy, it doesn't matter. She's weak, yer can tell that just by looking at her."

"Being smaller than others, doesn't make you weak, Edward. Trust me, she's anything but weak." I rubbed a thumb gingerly over the thin gash on my cheek that still stung.

"Well weak or not, it's no mean feat to save a Feeder, lass. It takes a bucket full of perseverance and then some. Even then there's no guarantee."

"But we could at least try."

Charlie rolled his eyes, exasperated by my infuriating obstinacy. "What's the point, Megan? That girl isn't anything to us. We don't know her from Adam. She isn't our leader and we don't even need her anyway."

My eyes widened with incredulous surprise. "Oh I'm sorry, I wasn't aware we had an unbeatable immortal army impervious to any attack? Last time I looked, we needed all the bloody recruits we could get!"

"You want recruits, Megan then we'll go out into the city and round up all the ones who are still trying to survive on their own. It'll be a lot fucking easier than this, that's for sure. Why should we waste time and energy trying to help her when there's no guarantee she'll respond?"

I titled my head to one side, shooting him a saccharine sweet smile. "You don't have to do anything, Charlie. I'll do it. After all, I'd hate for you to have to do something so disgustingly compassionate."

"Killing her is compassionate."

"No. It's the easy way out. Doesn't take much effort to pull the trigger, does it?"

I stared at all the faces I'd come to know. I could see their anger; I could feel their fear. The last thing I wanted to do was alienate them when I knew their trust in me still dwindled on a knife-edge, but maybe that was one of the reasons I had to do this. Despite everything we had done, after everything we had been through and the battles we had fought, our connection to each other was still dangerously tenuous. The links that held us together were bone-brittle and sometimes it seemed as if the slightest of events could sever those bonds and plunge us back into the dark days our kind had known after the Great Cleansing. What hope did we have if we were willing to discard one of our own so very easily? What hope did we have when we rid ourselves of those we considered pointless?

"Please," I implored them all. "I know this is unorthodox. I know this isn't how you'd usually deal with things, but times are changing rapidly and that means the way we deal with things has to change too. I remember many of you from The Box."

I shot pointed looks at a few of them, the ones I recognised from that night when Harper had stood in front of the crowd at Garrick's packed underground club and revealed to them who I was.

"Do you remember? Harper spoke to us all about how the greatest thing the Varúlfur ever achieved was making us give up on hope. They turned vampire against vampire and we let them divide us. We believed them. We sold out our own kind just to save ourselves. Is that who we still are? After everything we have done? After everything we have achieved? We have struck them at their heart time and time again and yet it seems we're still willing to do their dirty work for them and turn against our own in the blink of an eye. I thought we were better than that now? Because, you know what, if we're not, then we might as well give up now because divided we will never defeat them."

I saw a few cast uncomfortable glances at each other. Taking a deep breath, I continued.

"Not so long ago, I watched as Vánagandr snuffed the life out of one of his own because he decided the boy was dispensable. Just like that," I said, with a click of my fingers. "There's no loyalty there, not really. They bow to his will because it's in their blood to obey the Great Wolf. But he doesn't care for any of them, they're all dispensable to him. Every single one. Even those he has known an entire lifetime. We once thought that we were better off looking after ourselves, but you can't stand here now and tell me you don't feel the strength we have when we're together? You can't tell me that you don't see the power we can wield when we act as one, when we act as a family, as a unit? Benjamin knew it. Garrick knew it. And we have to carry on with the legacy they both left behind because it's the only way we're going to survive. I know having the Feeder here is unsettling. I know many of you don't believe that she can be saved, but all I'm asking is that you at least let me try. Let me help her. Let me see if I can. Just give me seven days and if there's no change, fine, you can do whatever you want with her. Seven days, that's all I ask."

The silence was crushing, rolling across the room on a wave of doubt and uncertainty. I couldn't comprehend that after everything, they were still unable to put their trust in their own kind, that they were still unwilling to really believe in each other. The disappointment roiled in the base of my stomach and my chest ached at my failure to convince them. I could feel my cheeks burning with humiliated defeat.

"You can have five."

My head snapped up. Harper was looking at me, a mixture of something that danced between pride and resignation in his stern gaze.

"Five days and if you haven't managed to rehabilitate her, then she dies."

Five days to wean a junkie from her addiction. Five days to muster up a miracle. 

I swallowed. "Fine. Five days it is. Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Megan," he said, inclining his head towards me, the tone in his voice firm and cold. "Because if she hasn't responded in five days, you'll be the one that has to kill her."

*******

Blood, sweat and coffee.

It was a strange mixture of odours that invaded the air with its pungent cocktail, making the room seem claustrophobic, as if it were filled with many people, when in fact, it held only two. Once upon a time, this had been the staff room. Old yellowed newsletters and posters still hung on the walls. A white board still bore the remnants of scribbled timetable notes in faded black marker pen, although much of it had been wiped off and replaced with the words of an old Pink Floyd song spray painted in bright red. A number of cushioned square chairs remained dotted around the room, most of them infected with a spattering of black mouldy spores. Broken mugs lay smashed on the draining board by the sink and if it wasn't for the fact this room now contained something monstrous, I would have smiled at how the strong scent of coffee still managed to remain in a staff room, years after the staff themselves had deserted it.

In the centre of the room, her feet bound at the ankles, her wrists tied together around the back of the chair, the Feeder sat with her head bowed, her long straggly red hair falling over her face. When the door clicked shut behind me, she looked up, her wild eyes flashing with anger. I grimaced at the sight of the scarf gagging her mouth and at the thin rivulets of blood that ran from the wound on her head down the side of her face.

She was young, maybe even younger than I had first thought, with a splash of freckles across her nose and wide blue eyes that would have been pretty if it wasn't for the network of intricate red veins that marred the white. She was painfully thin, making her head appear slightly too big for her frail-looking body and the clothes she wore were baggy on her slight frame. Dark circles framed her eyes and she looked as if she hadn't had any decent sleep in ages.

As I approached, she grew restless, trying to fight against her binds and making the chair rock slightly. Her efforts seemed weaker than before, possibly because she was still dazed from Fenton clubbing her around the head with the butt of his gun, but I still wasn't about to get too close. I knew she was tied up, but being near her still made me feel jumpy. Grabbing another chair, I pulled it over a few feet away from her, feeling a little foolish as if I were copying a scene from a movie where the captor starts to interrogate his prisoner by sitting opposite them in some grim, dingy room. This room was definitely grim and dingy but this wasn't an interrogation. It was a rescue mission in a coffee-infused school staff room.

"They want you dead, you know."

She struggled again at the sound of my voice, exerting more energy this time. The hunger and rage sparked in her eyes as she glared at me.

"I know you understand what I'm saying." I leant back, crossing my legs and folding my arms over my chest. "I know you can hear me. Being a Feeder doesn't render you deaf or stupid. So you need to know what you're dealing with here. There's a room full of vampires out there that would gladly come in here and slit your throat. And if they don't do it, there's another room of vampires beyond that who would do just the same. And another and another. There's not a single one in this place that wants you here and not a single one that cares if you die. The only one standing between you and them, is me. So you can fight and struggle all you want. You can hate me and yeah, you're probably going to hate me more than you've ever hated anyone over the next few days, but you know what? I'm the one that's going to keep you alive. So why don't we start by removing your gag and we can talk a little?"

The Feeder's forehead wrinkled with confusion and she eyed me with distrust as I got up slowly and moved towards her.

"Just a warning though," I added. "You try anything, do or say anything to piss me off, or make me think I'm wasting my time, then the gag goes back on and I walk out of here. You got that?"

I stopped just in front of her. "Nod your head if you understand."

For a moment, she did nothing and my heart sank to think I'd lost before I'd even began. I never assumed this was going to be easy, but I couldn't face the humiliation of walking back out there within five minutes of entering the room. When she slowly nodded her head, I resisted the urge to breath a huge sigh of relief and instead reached for the gag, praying that my hand didn't tremble as I tugged it gently from her mouth. Her eyeballs bulged a little as my fingers touched her skin and my head swam with images of Harper's Feeder feasting on his victim's flesh. I withdrew my hand quickly and retreated to my seat.

"My name's Megan," I said. "What's yours?"

The Feeder ignored me and instead slicked her tongue over her dry, chapped lips, paying particular attention to one spot where the blood had congealed in a thick globule.

"Were you part of a group? Where's your maker?"

She smacked her lips together and rolled her jaw as if it ached from the pressure of the scarf that had been tied so tightly it had left a bright red mark on her face, making her look a bit like Heath Ledger's Joker.

"Have you been on your own long?"

Looking away, she pretended to study one of the torn posters on the wall.

"It must have been tough out there on your own. It's been bloody grim for us, I can tell you, but I have no idea how you've managed to get by without anyone to help you. In fact, I think it's pretty amazing that you've survived at all."

Still she said nothing, ignoring my thinly veiled attempts at flattery. I clicked my tongue against my teeth in frustration.

"You can ignore me all you want, you know, but you're just going to make this a whole lot harder on yourself." I stood up, hearing that godawful inner clock ticking away.

Five days, five days, five days. 

"I'm hungry." Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. "I'm hungry," she said again.

I sat down, resting my elbows on my thighs and clasping my hands between my knees as I leant forward. "No, you're not. You just think you are."

She frowned. "I am," she said sullenly, her bottom lip sticking out in a childish pout.

"This hunger," I said, gently. "It's not real. You don't really need to feed. Being this hungry isn't how it's meant to be, you do know that don't you?"

"Please. It hurts." Her eyes welled up, a tear slipping down her dirty, blood-stained face.

"I know."

"You don't know anything!" she snarled, her face contorting in an instant, lips curling back from her teeth. "If you did, you wouldn't keep me here, you would let me go!"

"Do you even know what you are?" I said, shaking my head. "Do you even know what you've become?"

"I don't care, I don't care," she cried, the tears falling freely now. "I just want to leave. Please, please just let me go."

"You're a Feeder. You're a danger to yourself and to others."

"I'm not," she protested, wide-eyed. "I won't hurt anyone, I promise. I wouldn't do that."

"You attacked me."

She stiffened. "I didn't." She blinked as she looked at me, almost as if she was mentally flicking through images in her head, desperately trying to recall memories that were lost in the void of the blood-pull. "I didn't, did I?"

I pointed at the cut on my cheek. "Voila. It's nothing really, but it could have been a damned sight worse. Do you really not remember?"

She opened her mouth as if to say something and then shut it again, clearly bewildered.

"Look, it's okay, really," I said, with a shrug. "And despite what you think, I do get it. I almost crossed the line myself once, which is why I know the hunger isn't real. It's an addiction. A sickness. And the only way you're going to get better is if you fight it."

"I can't," she groaned through gritted teeth as she rolled her head back on her shoulders. "It hurts so fucking bad." She stared desperately at me. Drool glistened at the corner of her mouth. "Please," she begged. "I just need something. It doesn't have to be a lot, just something to stop the pain. That's all I need, please can you just help me?"

I stared at her for a moment, seeing her torment and hating myself for putting her through this, hating this whole situation I'd gotten myself into.

"I'm sorry."

The change came rapidly, overtaking her features, almost as if I was watching Hyde force his way out of Dr Jekyll's body, moulding flesh, cracking bone. Only this Dr Jekyll happened to be a teenage vampire and Mr Hyde was a ravenous, furious Feeder that looked as if she would mould my flesh and crack my bone given half the chance.

"Fuck you" she growled, spit flying from between her lips. She began to thrash about again, pushing her bound feet against the floor and frantically trying to yank her arms from the binds behind her back until I thought she might dislocate her shoulders with the force of her struggle.

From out of her mouth, she spewed every obscenity under the sun, still writhing and wriggling and I let her screech and fight, holding on to every ounce of courage I had to sit there and take the onslaught of her venomous tongue. After what seemed like forever, her struggles deteriorated, her efforts growing weaker by the second as her body quickly used up what little energy it had left and she eventually collapsed into gargled sobs.

"Bitch," she hissed as she wept. "Bitch, I hate you, I hate you."

"Wow," I said. "That didn't take long at all, did it? I thought we might go another day before you hated me."

I stood up and walked the few steps to where she sat, now reduced back to that pitiful creature again, snivelling and shaking. Grabbing her chin, I forced her to look at me which she did, burning me with angry red eyes full of hatred.

"I wasn't lying you know," I said. "I do think you're pretty amazing to have survived. They think you're weak. They think you're nothing but a liability. That we don't need you. But you know what? I happen to think they're wrong. Because if one girl can make it out there on her own, Feeder or not, I think you're a lot bloody stronger than a lot of vampires I know."

I reached for the gag.

"Wait," she said, her eyes wide. "Don't, please."

My hands hesitated on the scarf.

She slumped with exhaustion.

"Amy," she whispered. "My name is Amy."