Whitechapel. The East End of London. Streets of tawdry degradation and grisly dark crimes of such unlimited horror, that it was hard to believe that those blood-stained hands of the Ripper had belonged to a human.

Yet ask many vampires and they will tell you that the Old Jack who haunted the shadows was not human at all. He was a beast, a Varúlfur, or Lycan if that sits better on your tongue, and he slashed and ripped in a way only they can, driven insane by the taste of human flesh and unable to suppress his madness any longer. Eventually he was pulled back into the fold and held on a tight leash, his identity quashed and his crimes never to be solved.

Well, whoever he really was, he has never really left these streets. Somewhere, in the darkest corners where most would fear to tread, Jack remains, lurking, watching, maybe waiting for that one unfortunate person to take a wrong turn. Once upon a time and not so long ago, I would have scoffed at the notion of ghosts reaching out to harm the living. After all, what can a mere wraith do against muscle and sinew? What can a spirit do to bone and blood?

But things were different now. A dream it might have been, but the pain and the terror still chilled me to the core and standing here, not that far from Spitalfields market, it wasn't the Varúlfur I kept an eye out for. It was them. It was her.

I needed to feed. I needed to shake off this sense of foreboding. I just needed to focus on something else. And what better way than to hunt; to find myself lurking in the shadows. Watching. Waiting. Looking for that one unfortunate person who would take the wrong turn, who would see this young woman, alone where the street lights barely touched and be unable to resist the pull.

The great thing about Whitechapel was that it never took that long to attract attention, especially if you knew the best places to haunt.

Across the street, a man had stopped, with the pretence of trying to light his cigarette with a defunct lighter. He drew his thumb across the flint once, twice, three times, trying to shield the flame from the harsh winter wind that had picked up over the past couple of weeks. The weather reports had been screaming about the onset of one of the coldest winters in twenty-four years. Those bringers of doom had forewarned that two months of ice and snow was almost upon us and the country would freeze to a stand-still. Funny, I thought, as I watched the man, because I felt nothing but the roaring heat of hunger firing up my veins and making my stomach ache with yearning.

The man glanced around but if he feared the bothersome nuisance of passers-by, he need not have worried too much. Only a certain type of person would pass by here. People like him. Men like him. Men who were dealing with a particular kind of yearning of their own. I could smell his arousal from here and looking around again, his eyes darted back to me and I smiled as he approached, crossing the road, his feet scuffling against the pot-holed Tarmac.

I leaned back against the wall of the alley, wrapping my arms around my torso as if to protect myself from the cold. I hoped he would mistake the blush on my cheeks for wind-bitten skin. But of course I knew he would barely notice those little tell-tale details. All he would care about would be the heat between my thighs and not the heat of my flushed face. I had come to realise this only too well recently. These meetings were invariably the same every time. Megan Walden always came in useful when I was on a hunt. Her vulnerability, her naivety, her fresh faced innocence were all worn like a costume because to men like these, a hardened old pro was never going to get them off. They needed the sweet, supple flesh of a street virgin. They wanted to see a desperate resignation that the newbie didn't really want to do this but that she had no choice. And they would teach her that she really didn't have a choice. Oh yes, they would teach her the hardest fucking lesson she would ever get.

I let the corners of my mouth twitch nervously as he got closer and now I could smell the overpowering stench of cheap aftershave mixed with sweat and hair gel. His grin grew wider as he neared; clearly thinking he had won the prize of the century.

"Alright, love?" he said, raising an eyebrow and smiling, revealing a mouth missing a number of teeth and a couple that were barely more than blackened stumps. His breath smelt of a heavy addiction to nicotine and discount-store lager. He was probably in his forties, thin and wiry with hair parted on the side and slicked down with gel that was probably from one of those fifty pence non-branded tubs. Above his right eyebrow a cigarette burn pock-marked his skin.

"Y-yeah," I stammered, letting my teeth chatter and running a shaking hand through my tousled hair, in a desperate attempt to preen in front of him. "You alright?"

"Oh yeah, I'm good, ta love. I'm really good. Bloody brass monkeys out here though, ain't it?" His eyes flitted over my face and down to the collar of my jacket that opened in a V revealing an expanse of pale skin. "Bet you're freezing, eh?"

"Yeah, it's been slow tonight," I replied shyly. "No one wants to come out in this kind of weather. Don't blame them really."

A sheen of triumph glistened in his eyes. Got a right one here, he was thinking, got the bloody jackpot.

"Well, if you're interested, my car is just over there." He pointed to a beat-up Astra on the corner. I knew it was his. I had seen him pull up in it, slowly checking out the street as he passed and stopping as soon as he saw me. "We could, you know, go for a drive? Get you warmed up a bit?"

Got a right one here, I thought, got the bloody jackpot.

"Um, I dunno...." I tailed off, eyeing the car suspiciously. "I usually stick around here. I've got a place we can go."

"But I bet it ain't got a heater like my car has." He smiled his best salesman smile. "It might not look much from the outside, but it's in good nick on the inside. Leather seats. Car stereo if you fancy a bit of background music. Come on, it's got to be better than out here?"

I hesitated for just the right amount of time. A stringy seed of desperation crept across his face.

"I'll give you forty, alright? I usually don't go above thirty, but you're a pretty girl, like. And I hate to see you shivering out here in the bloody cold. Come on, love, you won't get a better offer at this time of night, will ya?"

I sighed and shook my head, pulling my arms tighter around myself and rubbing at my arms to ward off the chill. "Alright. Forty though okay?"

"Deal, darling. Come on; let's go warm up, yeah?" He wet his lips with a dart of his tongue, leaving spittle at the corner of his mouth.

The leather seats were probably more akin to a very worn and dirty PU and the car stereo had a cassette player and a radio that crackled static through the speakers. The smell of stale smoke and booze was stronger in here and a couple of discarded beer cans clanked against my boots. Turning the engine over, the man grinned at me again and it was all I could do not to giggle as he shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, the hardness in his groin clearly causing him some problems.

He didn't take us far. I don't think his excitement could have withstood a longer journey. We ended up just a few streets away, close to a row of lock-ups and he tucked the car into a space so tight that I knew there was no way of opening the doors unless he reversed. I pretended to glance nervously around, clearly rattled and fully aware of what he had done.

"Relax, love. Never been caught out by the old bill here. It's perfectly safe." That salesman grin again, although this time it didn't reach his eyes. "Go on then, get yourself in the back."

Hesitantly, almost reluctantly, I climbed over the gear box and felt the light touch if his hand on my behind as if he couldn't resist a sly grope. I sidled into the corner, pressing my back up against the door as he snaked his skinny frame through the gap between the seats and flopped onto the fake leather beside me.

"Come on then, let's get on with it," he urged and busied himself with unzipping his fly to reveal a pair of greying pants which were soon pushed aside. "You couldn't give us a blowie could ya?"

I looked steadily at his crotch and then back up to his face, raising an eyebrow. "You're not serious?"

His face hardened, nose wrinkling in a brief shot of anger. "Look, I'll give you an extra fiver, for fucks sake. A tenner if you do it without me wearing a johnny."

I smirked. "No. I meant you're not serious about fucking me with that little thing are you? Barely going to touch the sides is it?"

"You cheeky fucking b - " he hissed and his fist shot out, aiming for my cheekbone but I deftly caught his wrist and deflected the punch, before quickly throwing myself upon him, straddling his thighs and pinning him to the seat.

It's always a real treat to see their face when I do that. They're at that point where they're taken completely by surprise and there's a flicker of alarm, of course, but they don't know why they're feeling scared all of sudden. After all, I'm just a girl, aren't I?

"Uh-uh-uh," I mock-scolded and grinned to reveal my own teeth, the sharp deadly incisors of Megan Garrick and you know instinctively that they're thinking they're fake, they're fake, they have to be. But they already know. Even if they don't want to admit it, deep down they just know. And it's a beautiful thing to watch, drinking it all in as their sanity quickly unravels, as the horrifying realisation hits them that the monsters are real, that we do exist.

Some wet themselves. They can't help it. Their bladders just give up the ghost. In this case, I was glad the man didn't do that, considering his now very flaccid penis was still exposed. I could just about cope with his foul breath as it eked out in small shallow gasps, I doubted I could have stomached being covered in his urine too.

"Ah, what's the matter?" I crooned. "Bit young for erectile dysfunction problems aren't you? Now that is disappointing. But I'm afraid a deal is a deal. I still expect payment, fuck or no fuck and seeing as you are clearly not up to the job, I'm going to have to insist that you pay me anyway."

"Wh-what?" he shrieked. "What do you want?"

"Oh, I want you," I breathed. "Bet you never heard a girl say that before, have you?"

And with that, I buried my face into his neck and bit down hard, feeling that momentary resistance of his flesh and then that sweet rush of blood as it poured into my open mouth. He shrieked louder now, a cry full of pain and terror that only made me dig in harder and suck more voraciously from the ragged wound. I wanted to cry out myself as the warm coppery taste lapped over my tongue and pulsed down my throat, engulfing me in the most satisfying heat that spread out quickly like the warmest of blankets draped around my body.

The man began to thrash beneath me, his legs kicking out and his hips bucking wildly but still I did not ease up. I wanted to hurt this one, just as I'd hurt the ones before him. And why not? Megan Walden would never have stood a chance. Nor any other poor girl who'd gone for a ride in his car with its stained seats and crackling stereo. No. I wasn't about to ease up at all.

Tightening my thighs around his and digging my fingernails into his wrists, I pushed my head deeper into his neck and bit again, drinking and drinking, revelling in sensing his fight growing weaker by the second, hearing the sheer desperation in his voice as his shrieks gave way to plaintive sobbing. And then finally, there was nothing at all. No struggle. No cry. Just stillness and silence.

Pulling my mouth away, I sat up and sighed with a deep satisfaction that tingled through my veins, making me feel slightly dizzy. I wiped at the blood that trickled down my chin and licked at the trace of it left on the back of my hand. He might have been a sorry excuse for a human, but he sure tasted good. They all did.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, I turned the key and moved the car forward slightly so I could get to the doors. Reaching back I fumbled into his jacket pocket, retrieving the lighter I had seen him use earlier and with the night winds snapping at my face, I stuffed a rag that I had found in the glove box into the opening of the fuel tank and lit the end. Standing well back by the side of the first lock-up, I watched enthralled as the tank soon ignited, exploding with a crescendo of noise and quickly engulfing the car in ravenous flame. I knew I couldn't stand there long, hypnotised by the fierce inferno that was already blackening the walls either side. This area might be deserted but with a fire this furious, I knew it wouldn't remain so for much longer.

Turning on my heels, I ran away from the scene of my crime, not in panic, but with a cruel smile on my face and a warm sensation nestling in the base of my stomach. That feeling didn't last for long however, when I rounded a corner to find a dark figure waiting, his arms folded casually across his chest and his legs crossed at the ankles as he leaned against wall as if he had been expecting me.

I stopped dead and eyed him warily, vaguely aware of sirens howling far off in the distance.

"Dining alone again?" Harper said, his eyes narrowing as he stared intently at me. "Or was it something else you were hungry for tonight?"

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," I snapped. "He didn't stand a chance, either way." I went to stalk past him, but he reached out and grabbed my arm, yanking me closer to him. His scent was far more welcome than that of the man, even if his presence here was not.

"You shouldn't be coming out here on your own," he glowered at me and I had that niggling, frustrating urge to crush my lips against his. It was either that or knee him in the groin.

"I don't need a chaperone, thank you very much," I sneered. "I don't know if you noticed but I managed that without your help."

"Oh I have no doubt that you're quite capable of killing, angel. But the streets are still not safe for us. The Varúlfur might be lying low but it won't be long before they're back to claim their territory so you shouldn't be feeding alone. And anyway, I'm not sure why you would want to. Yet recently, you don't seem to care much for my company, or anyone's for that matter."

"Feeling lonely, my darling?" I smirked.

"Don't be smart, Megan." He pulled me closer, placing one hand on the small of my back so that I was pressed against him. He ran a finger over my lips, his emerald eyes searching out mine as if trying to delve into my thoughts. "Now you can run away all you like, you know I always find you."

"I'm not running away," I insisted but the crack in my voice betrayed me.

"But you're avoiding....something. Something you don't want to talk about. You might as well tell me now. You know I'm not going to give this up until you do."

"Your persistence is irritating."

"As is your constant failure to accept I always get what I want." His mouth brushed against mine, his tongue lightly tracing a path along my bottom lip.

"Don't be an arrogant shit."

"Then don't be a coward," he said firmly, pulling back and staring intently at me. "I've never thought you to be one. Even at your most desperate, you've never been a coward. Whatever it is, just face it. Tell me. There's something different about you, I can see it in your eyes. It's Lucius, isn't it?"

"No. Yes. I don't know. I can't explain." I shook my head.

"Yes you can. You just don't want to. Just say it Megan, whatever is bothering you, just say it."

I stared back at him, feeling lost and helpless, knowing that he was the last person who should hear this and immediately I knew I was scared. I was scared of telling him. I was scared of seeing that look upon his face. Scared of seeing his pain and what's more, scared of sensing his rejection, of knowing that I would never be enough.

"I saw her," I whispered. "Lucius showed me her. And she was so full of hate and venom. She wanted me dead, Harper, I could feel it. I can still feel it. And no matter what I do, I can't shake it off."

Harper frowned, his emerald eyes clouding with confusion. "I don't understand? Who did you see? What did Lucius show you?"

I sighed, defeated. "Jenny. I saw Jenny. She wanted to kill me. That's what Lucius showed me."

His hands dropped away immediately leaving me standing adrift, lost and helpless and scared, just as I knew I would be.