"They're after us, precious," Cordelia sat up. She and Eve were in bed—a huge four-poster that dominated the room. It was hung with red velvet drapes and it had a king-size mattress and was the most comfortable bed Eve had ever slept in.

She'd asked Cordelia about that other myth at the beginning. Don't vampires sleep in coffins?

"Nope," Cordelia replied. "It looks good, but no we don't. Or at least no vampires I'm acquainted with do." She looked thoughtful. "Perhaps the Gelans do."

"Who are the Gelans?"

Cordelia wrinkled her nose. "A ghastly vampire family. Vampires who like to be traditional. They live in this area too. They like to conform to the stereotypes and mythology even if it isn't true. If a person hung garlic around his neck, they'd shy away as if it would kill them. That kind of thing. They'd hate you."

To compensate for the Gelans' lack of love, Cordelia demonstrated her own. She kissed Eve's neck and then worked her way down, stopping to fasten soft lips on Eve's nipples. The tongue that lapped at them worked out when to go fast and when to slow down. The teeth knew when to bite, too. Eve had always believed she needed clitoral stimulation to come. Turned out she was wrong.

"The Argist Academy," Cordelia said. "They've worked out where we are. I thought they wouldn't leave us alone, but I had hoped we could stay here longer."

She looked around the room regretfully. Eve didn't blame her. The house was beautiful, and it had all mod cons. There was a cinema room, complete with an 80-inch screen, a wine cellar stocked to the brim with vintage champagne and a music system that ran through the house. There was also a dream kitchen, with an American fridge-freezer, an Aga and copper pots and pans festooned on the walls.

Until Eve came into her life, Cordelia had never used it except to chill her champagne. These days, she sat on a stool in there while Eve raided her fridge, kept brimming-full by the excellent Mrs Livingstone. Sometimes she even cooked for Eve. Her culinary efforts were hit and miss. If you couldn't taste something you did not understand how to season it.

"How do you know they are on to us?" Eve asked, her eyes wide. "And who are they, anyway?"

"I listened in. Their office is nearby, and I go there from time to time to find out what the agents are up to. There are two of them looking for us although I expect they'll send more if they feel it's necessary. I've encountered one of them before. He wants revenge because I eluded him before. As for who they are, wait here a sec..."

She got out of bed, gracefully picking her way over the clothes they'd discarded in haste earlier that day. Eve watched her go, admiring her back. Every little bone stuck out and Eve had kissed them all, starting at the back of her neck and working her way down, vertebrae by vertebrae, not stopping until her tongue reached Cordelia's buttocks.

She'd rimmed her, her tongue circling and then darting in, a move that made Cordelia squirm in pleasure. "If you do that again," she panted, "I promise you I'll strap on a dildo, get on top of you and shove myself into you so hard... ooh... just. Do. Not. Stop!"

Cordelia returned, her naked front view as thrilling as the back. Eve told her she was perfect all the time. Converted when she was only a young woman and frozen forever in time, her tits were perfect orbs and her waist tiny. She looked like the embodiment of those pictures eighteen-year-old male graphic designers conjured up when asked to draw vampires.

"I keep clippings of them too," she said, handing over a scrapbook to Eve. "Know thine enemy."

Eve sat up, stacking the silk-covered pillows behind her. Like the file containing Cordelia's own clippings, the book was very thick. She opened its leather cover and started in surprise. "Oh. That's that monk, isn't it?" She pointed at the woodcut print. Like all such imagery, it was crude, but she recognised the man from Cordelia's scrapbook.

He was squat, powerful-looking and hook-nosed. Not the kind of man you'd want to encounter in a dark alley. Especially if you'd just used the cover of darkness there to suck the life out of some tramp.

"Brother Gregory—yes, the same fucker. Not content with chasing after us by himself, he created an organisation to destroy us, blah blah blah."

Eve read on. Cordelia's file of her own clippings had contained Brother Gregory's notes on her. In this file, there were notes documenting meetings of a group set up way back in the 17th Century. Brother Gregory, it turned out, was going against the wishes of his superiors by setting up a group dedicated to eradicating vampires. Not that they didn't believe him—it was just that they saw him as too lowly to carry out such a task.

A later document related his death. Another told of the grief this inspired, enough to cause the grievers to want to carry on his vampire hunting legacy.

She flicked through pages, stopping at one that contained laminated pages. They looked as if they'd been taken from a book, and they detailed the history of The Academy and its membership these days. The details were sketchy, as The Academy loved secrecy and made all its agents sign non-disclosure contracts.

The next section made her start. Not clippings this time—photos, the date stamp on them telling her they'd only been taken yesterday. In them, a man lay on his back. The photos had been taken at various angles—one of which showed an almighty erection, and the next a woman bent over him and sucking him off. Other pictures showed the two of them licking what looked like chocolate icing off each other, and in another the photographer had focused in on the guy's face, his eyes closed, and his throat tipped back.

Eve's body prickled in response—could be the guy's throat; could be the chocolate icing... Bloody hell, that cake looked good. Imagine if he'd invited her to share it with him. She'd eat it with her hands and then smear the icing all over his chest, licking her way up from his belly button to his throat where she would...

Sink teeth into the vein that pulsed blood there, and suck and suck and suck.

"Where did you get these?" she asked Cordelia, who smirked. Older vampires' talents included the ability to mind-read. Cordelia must have shared that little fantasy—fast-forwarding it to the bit where Eve saved the last few mouthfuls for her.

She held Cordelia's eyes and summoned up the fantasy again—her mouth flooded with warm blood and her lover advancing, mouth open. Eve grabbed the back of her head, pushing it hard so that their mouths collided, and the blood spilled from hers to Cordelia's. Pressed up against her chest she felt the blood's movement through Cordelia's body, sparking off tiny jolts in her own.

Yikes! It was a good job she was lying down. Shared fantasy did powerful things to a woman's body. Those familiar contractions started, the intense movement throwing her back against the pillow, her legs wide apart, eyes shut and the scream of pleasure.

She and Cordelia were still metres apart. Oh, if anyone had ever told a woman when you turn vampire you get to come just through someone sharing space in your head, every lady in the land would sign up.

There'd be no humans left!

"Are you done?" Cordelia asked, amused. She wriggled her fingers in the air, a promise of more whenever Eve wanted, and pulled on a pink robe that clashed spectacularly with her red hair.

"Where did you get these photos?" Eve asked. The date stamp included a location—a town not that far away from here.

"I employ a PI," Cordelia said. "She keeps track of what goes on in that office. It belongs to The Academy, and young Gregor there," she pointed at Mr Cock covered in chocolate, "turned up the other day, which means they've worked out we're here.

"He's a descendant of Brother Gregory, by the way."

Eve glanced up at that: "Aren't monks meant to be celibate?"

Cordelia smiled. "Didn't they teach you history at your school? Or perhaps I have the advantage, having lived through most of it. The date 1671 is after England switched churches. Monks were allowed to marry. Brother Gregory took advantage."

She paused. "His wedding day was the last day of his life, as it turned out."

"What happened?"

Cordelia stood up, stretching her arms to the ceiling—the movement making her breasts jut out, her nipples standing to attention in the cold. It was almost enough to distract Eve, but not quite.

"Are you sitting comfortably?" Cordelia smiled once more, this time shrugging the robe off one shoulder. It slid down, stopping just before it revealed a nipple. Cordelia licked her top lip and Eve grinned. She recognised the routine, and she sat up, taking off the camisole top she was wearing, caressing her own nipples, her eyes glued on Cordelia.

Cordelia paused, letting out a deep breath.

"Then I'll begin..."