Unholy Alliance

Book Two

of the

Vampires & Zombies Trilogy

By Bridget Esk

“Barrett’s Privateer’s” © 1976 Fogarty's Cove Music

“You Are My Sunshine” © 1940 Peer International Corporation

Published 2011.

Copyright © Bridget Esk 2011.

The right of Bridget Esk to be identified as the author of this work has been
asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or

introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior
written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in
relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims
for damages.

Cover by Turbozutek.

To my sister, Erin.
Bink and Little Bit for the win!

Chapter 1

Jimmy roared in anger, and stepped defensively in front of his friends.

“Get away from us!” he thundered. “I’ve already taken care of two of your lot. I’ll
sort you out, too!”

“With what, good sir, your bare hands?” the creature gently mocked. “I assure you
that I can move more quickly than your field of vision can comprehend.”

“You cannae touch me while I’m in the sunlight,” Jimmy hurled back defiantly.

“Very true, Mr. McConnell,” the vampire’s words floated lightly, “but neither can
you touch me while I stay out of the light. And all the armaments you are carrying
in your holdall are not likely to hurt me, either.

“Now, I do apologise,” he continued, his voice dancing through a range of pleasant

syllables. Despite their grave situation, he sounded as if he were telling a joke.
“We have gotten off entirely on the wrong foot. I came here to beg your indulgence.

“Could we start again, please? Let me introduce myself. I am known as Vincent.”

“And I’m known as the bloke who’ll batter you,” Jimmy returned.

Vincent smiled tolerantly upon the raging Jimmy. Matt, utterly terrified,
nonetheless stood bravely behind Jimmy’s shoulder. He found the sound of Vincent’s
voice enticing, but he was still frightened enough that nothing else could fully
grab his attention.

Shifting almost imperceptibly, Vincent fixed his golden-brown eyes on Fiona. His
gaze lingered along her body, caressing her with his glance. She planted herself
protectively in front of Fergus, but a dreamy look had settled over her features.

“Ms. Sugar,” Vincent crooned, “would you be so kind as to convince your friends to
afford me a moment’s audience? After all, I am sure you want what is best for Mr.
Murdoch.” He nodded at Fergus’s prostate form.

“And I can help him.”

With a sharp intake of breath, Fiona tried to calm her pounding heart. Already
swollen with pain, it now lurched as if it would rocket through her chest and loop-
the-loop with joy at this unexpected offer of aid. Of course they would listen to
what this vampire had to say. What could be wrong with that?

“Boys,” Fiona breathed, turning to Matt and Jimmy, “let’s hear what the man has to
say, yeah? It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”

Matt jumped as a particularly loud bang shook the doors a floor below. The zombies
had only increased their efforts to get in. Presumably more had gathered during the
short time which had elapsed since they’d barricaded themselves in the modern art
gallery.

Mustering his bravado, he turned a flashlight on Vincent and said, “Talk fast.
You’ve got five minutes to convince me.”

The pitifully weak light glinted off Vincent’s fangs as they sparked in the shade.
His lazy smile made clear that he wasn’t taken in by Matt’s bluster, but he didn’t
comment on it.

Instead he said, “I put it to you that you are presently in an untenable situation.
Your position is under attack, you have nowhere to run to, and your friend is very
ill.

“Conversely, I can conduct you safely from this dangerous place, I can offer you a
secure place to rest, and I can cure Fergus.”

At these last words, Fiona gave an involuntary start, and she turned hope-filled
eyes upon Vincent. His words wrapped her in a promising blanket of comfort. She
swayed slightly back and forth, as if his very breath caused her to quiver.
“Fiona? Are you feeling okay?” Jimmy asked directly.

She took a step back and glanced at Jimmy, slightly dazed.

“Fiona,” Vincent lowered his voice, as if he was sharing an intimate moment with
her alone, “you know that you must do all that you can to save Fergus.”

Fiona physically shook her head, trying to knock some sense back into it. Why was
the sound of his voice so enchanting? Whenever Vincent spoke, it was as if she’d
forgotten to breathe.

“If you do not come with me,” Vincent whispered softly, and then suddenly his voice
altered to flint, “Fergus’s life will end.”

The tears she’d been vigorously holding back cascaded down her cheeks. Fiona
trembled, a leaf hanging by a filament, ready to drop at the slightest hint of
wind. Matt stepped to her side, and gently led her into the alcove where Fergus was
propped up. He encouraged her to sit. Fiona reached for Fergus’s limp hand. It was
icy and sweaty all at once, and still his wound seeped blood.

“Jimmy,” Matt’s voice was strangled, “I think you’d better look at this.”

Keeping a wary eye on Vincent, who still lazed with a self-satisfied air in the
shadows, Jimmy walked backwards to where Matt was peering anxiously through the
peephole in the wall.

Jimmy ducked his head slightly to take in the view, and even his robust frame
quaked at what he saw.

The 16-foot-high windows in the ground floor gallery below were filled with dozens
of zombies pressed against the glass, beating on the fragile surface, straining to
get inside. From his vantage point a story above, Jimmy could see more zombies
gathered behind the front ranks leaning on the windows. His big heart sank.

Jimmy simultaneously stiffened and relaxed at a melodic voice lilting from across
the room.
“I can offer you escape, safety, and recovery for Fergus,” Vincent’s voice embraced
the quartet, promising them exactly what they most needed at this moment.

“And all you want in return is to suck our blood?” Jimmy sneered.

“That is the farthest thing from my mind, I assure you,” Vincent replied with a
smirk, yet still sounding incredibly persuasive.

“May I suggest,” he continued as a cracking sound, as of wood splitting, rent the

air, “that you take some time to consider your course of action?”

“We haven’t got time, and you know it!” Matt cried, making a supreme effort not to
shriek.

Unperturbed, Vincent cast out, as if the matter were of no importance, “You are
most cordially invited to join my brothers and I at our sanctuary, and enjoy our
protection from the zombies,” he paused. “Or, stay and be overrun.” He stirred
lightly, making for the staircase.

“Wait!” Fiona, still shaking, stood up and called him back. “You promise you’ll
help Fergus? You’ll stop him from becoming –”

“A vampire? Oh, yes. That can be done. I assure you.”

Fiona stared at Jimmy and Matt, desperate pleading etched into her face.

“I have to help Fergus,” she murmured apologetically, “no matter what it takes.

“And I’d like to have you with me.”

Jimmy frowned. Matt sighed, “I don’t suppose we’ve got much chance if we stay
here.”
From the stairwell, Vincent spoke with a blend of satisfaction and derision, “May I
say, your decision is most welcome.

“Now, if you would be so kind as to follow me, I fear that our window of
opportunity is rapidly closing. You will not need to bring anything; our humble
abode is well provisioned.

“I can see that you are not to be convinced, Mr. McConnell. Very well, do transport
your weapons, if it satisfies you. This way, please.”

“Are you crazy?” Matt balked at the din arising below. “You want us to go
downstairs? The zombies are about to burst through the doors and windows!”

With a faintly mocking air, Vincent nevertheless sounded all charm as he briefly
explained, “There lies a subterranean route beneath this art gallery, which will
afford you safe passage. It has but one entrance, and that is in the basement.”

Fiona floated along in Vincent’s wake, pausing only to make sure that Jimmy,
carrying Fergus, was close behind her. Matt descended the stairs toward the zombie
racket reluctantly, mumbling to himself, “This is nuts.”

They crossed quickly in front of the ground floor lobby, and Jimmy’s head snapped
up. He could scent fresh air. At least part of a door had been broken through.

“Faster, guys,” Jimmy urged, as fresh splintering sounds assaulted them,

underpinned by the thump of vibrating glass. They rushed for the basement stairs.

Collected as he’d been since he first appeared, Vincent glided gracefully toward a
door in the corner of the basement, and passed through it. Hot on his heels, Fiona
grasped the door handle, but it refused to budge.

Shaking it desperately, Fiona pounded on the door, all dreaminess dropped. “Get
back here! Is this a joke? You promised!”

After a moment, the door creaked open of its own accord. Vincent, tall and pale,
loomed out of the dark passageway. A satisfied grin curled his lips, drawing them
back to expose his pointed teeth. He looked at once both terrifying and stunningly
handsome. Jimmy couldn’t believe his audacity. Vincent had purposely given them a
fright, probably to make clear who was in charge.

“I would be much obliged if you would follow this tunnel to the end,” Vincent’s
gorgeous voice tripped lightly out of the shadows. “I shall ensure that the door at
the other side is unlocked. There you will find a vehicle waiting for you. The keys
will be in the glove box. I take it you know where Pollok Country House is?”

“Wait a minute. You’re not coming with us?” Matt asked, slightly bewildered. He
couldn’t quite believe that this vampire would lead them to safety, and then let
them walk away.

“As your friend so accurately observed at the start of our conversation, sunlight
is an inconvenience to me. I shall be employing another method of transportation,
that does not necessitate travelling through broad daylight,” Vincent replied
imperiously.

“But, does sunshine actually hurt you?” Matt pressed. “I thought it was more of an
image thing . . .” His voice trailed off as Vincent fixed him with an arrogant
stare.

“M Leblanc, I am a vampire. What did you think I would do in the sunlight? Sparkle
and write poetry? Of course I burn!”

With a haughty spin, Vincent disappeared, leaving a whisper behind him that sounded
like, “Believes that tripe he reads.”

Matt shuffled his feet and stared at the ground, put in his place. Fiona’s
shoulders slumped slightly, and she felt deflated. She only revived at a low moan
emanating from Fergus, at which she brushed the beads of sweat from his forehead.

Spurred on by the increasing cacophony spilling down the stairs, Jimmy took control
and urged his friends to action. He led the way into the darkness.

Chapter 2

“That must be it,” Fiona said, indicating a Jaguar X-Type parked outside the tunnel
exit. After a quick glance up and down the empty street, she pulled open the door
and rummaged through the glove box.

“Got ’em!” she announced to Matt and Jimmy as she held up the keys. “It’s just like
Vincent said.”

While their immediate area seemed zombie-free, they could hear a none-too-distant
murmur accompanied by bangs and groans, which they took to be the continued zombie
assault on the Gallery of Modern Art. Jimmy wasted no time in laying Fergus’s pale,
shivering form in the back of the car.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, taking the keys off Fiona and climbing into the
driver’s seat.

“I could tell you two didn’t trust Vincent, but so far, everything has been exactly
like he said it would be,” Fiona crowed. She was elated at their escape. Once
Fergus was put to rights, her happiness would be complete. She shifted carefully
into the back seat, and pillowed Fergus’s head on her lap as they pulled away.

“You know, I feel like my head is clearer now,” Matt commented.

“That’s probably because you don’t have murderous zombies pounding down the doors
anymore,” Fiona replied casually. “Getting out of a life-or-death situation has a
way of reducing your stress levels.”

“Matt’s right,” Jimmy chimed in. “It’s like my ears were ringing, but now they’ve
stopped, and I can hear so much better.

“Does anyone else feel like Vincent was giving us a raw deal? But it seemed like a
really good idea at the time.”

“He was charismatic, all right,” Matt agreed. “But I’m sure he would be, since he
was talking nicely to his supper. I’m glad we’re rid of him.”

“Hold on,” Fiona began in a low tone. Matt and Jimmy glanced at each other. This
was typically the deceptively sweet manner Fiona adopted just before eviscerating
someone. Matt held his breath. She continued.
“Don’t tell me you two are even considering not going to Pollok House?”

“Well, Fiona –” Jimmy began.

“Have you forgotten about Fergus?!” Fiona bellowed at full volume. “He’s burning
up! He needs help! And the only one that can help him is Vincent!”

“Wheesht!” Jimmy tried to urge her to lower her voice. “We’re not that far away
from GOMA! We don’t need any more attention from the zombies.”

“He seems to have a fever, Fiona,” Matt attempted gingerly. “We can stop at a
hospital and get medicine, look after him ourselves.”

“I don’t think this is your garden variety scratch on the neck,” Fiona thundered.
“He’s been bitten by a VAMPIRE. For all the first aid we’ve done of applying
pressure to the wound, it won’t stop bleeding. The fever is the least of our
worries. If he doesn’t get specialised help soon, he won’t have any blood left in
his body!

“If you don’t want to accept help from a man –”

“Vampire,” Jimmy corrected in an undertone.

“That has done nothing but save us from certain death, then fine. Drop Fergus and I
off, and you carry on your merry way. But I’m not going to let Fergus down!”

Jimmy sighed, “We’re not going to abandon you to the mercy of a house full of
vampires. And we care about Fergus, too. I just think there are better options.”

“Such as?”

Jimmy shook his head. Fiona was not to be persuaded. And after all, Vincent had
pulled through for them so far. Maybe their luck would hold. “Fine,” he grumbled.
“Matt? What do you want to do?”
Matt looked defeated. “I’m not likely to set out and wander the streets of Glasgow
alone, am I? Even without vampires and zombies to worry about, I’d get lost. I’ve
got a rotten sense of direction.”

“That’s settled, then,” Fiona concluded with a satisfied air. “Boys, honestly, I
think Vincent wants what’s best for us. He didn’t have to help us in GOMA. He could
have left us to the zombies.

“This will work out. I have a good feeling about him,” Fiona sat back in her seat,
satisfaction brightening her features.

A short while later, she leaned forward again.

“How much longer until we arrive, do you reckon?”

“Here’s the Country Park entrance,” Jimmy nodded as he turned their vehicle onto a
narrow road leading between the trees.

“That sign says straight ahead for Pollok House,” Matt pointed.

The dreamy look had stolen back over Fiona’s features. “Don’t worry, Fergus,” she
whispered, patting his non-responsive hand. “Help is close at hand.”

The car bounced gently over speed bumps at regular intervals, as they passed open
forests and paddocked fields. The odd bench lining the road sat empty.

“Whoa,” Matt breathed as they pulled up in front of imposing stone walls, curved
inwards to meet a soaring, wrought iron gate. “This is a house?”

“A country house,” Fiona specified. “Closer to a mansion, really. It’s where a very
rich family used to live. Of recent years it’s been open to the public as a
museum.”

“There are people on the other side of the gate,” Jimmy noted grimly as he caught a
flash of motion.
“Vampires?” Matt asked with a tremble in his voice. He, himself, wasn’t sure if it
was due to fear or longing.

“Probably not, if they’re walking about in daylight,” Fiona said. “Jimmy, slow
down. I’ll get out and tell them who we are.”

“We don’t know if they’re friendly,” Jimmy fretted.

“Vincent sent us here. He wouldn’t put us in danger,” Fiona replied with supreme
conviction. She slowly opened her door, and carefully stood up, keeping her hands
raised in a non-threatening way.

“Hello!” she shouted at the gate, where movement was just visible on the periphery.
“Perhaps you could help? Vincent sent us. One of our friends is very ill.” Although
she projected a tough image, her worry about Fergus pierced this veil and made her
voice waver on her last words.

A man holding a shotgun stepped into view. He was rotund, ruddy of complexion, and
had flaming red hair. He kept his weapon trained on Fiona’s chest. “Do you have any
weapons?” he shouted back. “How many of you are there? And don’t even think about
lying. I’ve got you covered.”

“No,” Fiona said. “Or rather, yes. But don’t worry!” she quickly added. “They’re
not loaded. They’re just in a bag. In the car. We’re not dangerous. I promise.
Boys!” she turned toward the car. “Come out, slowly, please, and show him we’re
friendly.

“We have one more with us, lying in the back. He’s sick, and Vincent said he could
help.”

“Vincent, eh?” the ginger man replied. “You must be important. He doesn’t usually
go out during the day. Open the gates!” he barked to the side.

Two more men scuttled in from the shelter of the stone walls, and unlocked and
opened the gates. Jimmy settled back into the car so he could drive it in, but
Fiona and Matt simply walked through.

“I’m Fiona,” Fiona introduced herself, all smiles. “Do you know where Vincent is? I
need to get Fergus to him.”

“I’m Wullie,” the short man replied in clipped tones. “I don’t know where Vincent
is. He doesn’t deign to tell us his whereabouts.”

He stopped and turned sharply to consult with an older man with incongruously jet
black hair, slicked back with grease, who had crossed to them from the house’s huge
oak doors. After a brief exchange, he nodded once, and saluted the man
dismissively.

“Well,” Wullie continued with a smirk. “Vincent has just sent word that we’re to
welcome you, and bring your sick friend inside, where he’ll be seen to.” He nodded
to a makeshift gurney that was being carried out of the house by the two men who
had unlocked the gates.

Fiona bustled over to supervise Jimmy as he transferred Fergus gently onto the
stretcher. She tenderly tucked a blanket around him, and fell into step as they
moved toward the house.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Wullie said in a commanding tone. “I’m afraid Vincent was very
specific. Only your sick friend is to be brought inside just now.”

“I’m not leaving him!” Fiona bristled.

“Be that as it may, Vincent doesn’t like to be crossed,” Wullie warned her. “If
he’s promised to help your friend, he’ll do it on his terms. I would suggest you
adhere to them.” His shotgun was now pointed at the ground, but Jimmy noticed that
he hadn’t relaxed his hold on the weapon.

Fiona stood poised for a moment, uncertain what to do. Then her confidence
reasserted itself. “If that’s what Vincent said, then that’s what I’ll do,” she
announced, and kissed Fergus softly on the forehead before he was carried away.

“Right, now that we’ve got that settled,” Wullie said, somewhat grumpily, “you’ll
need to know the rules. I’ll start by showing you the defences.”

“The defences?” Matt queried.

“Aye, do you think we relax here, hoping that the zombies won’t show up?” Wullie
was incredulous. “They don’t seem to like woods and fields, right enough, but that
hasn’t stopped the odd one from wandering through.”

“We weren’t really sure what to expect,” Jimmy said. “We weren’t given much
information.”

Wullie raised his eyebrows, but whatever he was thinking, he decided to keep it to
himself. Instead, making an effort to be cordial, he explained, “The vampires live
in Pollok House, in the basement. We don’t see them during the day, for obvious
reasons. Our job is to patrol the area and keep the house secure, so they can rest
during daylight hours.

“At night, we have the house to sleep in, and they protect us from the zombies. It
works pretty well.”

“How many people do you have here?” Matt asked.

“About 20 at the moment,” Wullie said. “It varies, though. It’s a voluntary
arrangement, and some people would rather take their chances elsewhere.

“Just last week we had a bunch of the women disappear overnight without warning.
Left a note that they couldn’t stand staying still any longer, and were going to
look for their kids,” Wullie snorted. “Chances are the kids are already dead, or
worse. And it’s no picnic out there. I’d rather be somewhere secure with a guard
watching over me while I sleep.

“Speaking of guards, I’ll show you about now,” Wullie said. “We’ll start outside,
and then I’ll bring you into the house and introduce you to the other blokes. Most
of them are out on patrol now, anyway. That all right with you?” he asked, though
he didn’t give the impression of actually being interested in their opinion. He
seemed to be on autopilot, fulfilling a duty unquestioningly.

Fiona, Jimmy, and Matt all nodded silently. They weren’t sure what to make of this
strange arrangement.

“Right, first, the entrance gate,” Wullie began the description of his domain.
“This stays locked at all times. No one is let in without permission from the
Captain of the Watch. That’s me,” he clarified.
Fiona pressed her lips together to bar any smart comments from escape. His
earnestness put her in mind of Shakespeare’s Dogberry.

“These walls, to the right and left, look like a good defence, don’t they?” Wullie
continued his tour.

The trio nodded, like obedient school pupils.

“They’re not!” Wullie thundered. “Did you not notice that from the outside, the
ground is nearly level with the top of the wall? Any zombie could just wander up
and walk himself right over the top!”

“But then he’s got a twelve foot drop to the ground,” Jimmy interjected
guilelessly.

“Do you think the zombies care?” Wullie asked, cocking an eyebrow. “In any case,
we’ve got that one licked. We’ve planted mines in the ground along the perimeter of
those walls. So no pleasure walks there or there!” he pointed.

Fiona thought the explanation of the mines was given with rather a lot of relish.
She wondered if Wullie had been in the military in his previous life. That would
explain his erect bearing and abrupt manner.

“Over that way,” Wullie pointed precisely to his left, “there are proper walls,
culminating in the gatehouse. This being Glasgow, the Council has fortified all the
exterior windows with iron bars. So we can use the rooms in there fairly safely.
The gatehouse gate is also kept closed and locked, and we do not use it. That
covers around to the side of the house.

“On this side,” Wullie now indicated to the right, “after the mines, which go to
here, there’s actually a fence in the woods. It’s hard to make out from here, but
it’s topped with spikes, so that works pretty well. Up until the fence ends, of
course.

“So we’ve had to add fortifications around this region of the house,” Wullie
continued, leading the way up a short flight of stone steps. His shotgun remained
tightly grasped at all times.
Fiona, Jimmy, and Matt stopped short at the bizarre sight in front of them. A
beautiful formal garden filled the side yard, before the terrain sloped steeply
upwards. The rise was dressed with neat stones, laid out in a diamond pattern,
separating a profusion of petite flower beds. The garden itself consisted of
precise, miniature hedges enclosing more colourful beds. The hedges were laid out
in a geometric pattern reminiscent of a maze for gnomes.

What caused their amazement, however, was not the beauty of the gardening design.
It was the unbelievable wall that topped the slope. It seemed to be made of cars,
piled three high à la scrap yard style, bumper to bumper across the garden.

“Those are your fortifications?” Fiona asked, unconvinced. “A wall made of

vehicles?”

“Of course we’re going to build something more permanent,” Wullie replied,
affronted at her unenthusiastic response. “But as a quick defence, it’s suitable.
We used the cars parked in the forecourt here, and over at the Burrell Collection.
It took us less than a day to throw up, and it was a lot of fun driving the cars on
top of each other.” He smiled at the recollection.

Matt pulled a face behind Wullie’s back. For such a stern character, Wullie also
seemed to exhibit a child-like glee on certain topics, such as landmines and
junking cars.

“Those hedges over there are pretty thick,” Wullie continued the tour, pointing
beyond the car wall, “but we didn’t feel quite comfortable with just a bit of
greenery as our last defence before the house. So we’ve lined up vehicles on the
other side, too, to create more of a barrier.

“There’s a nice grass verge just there, perfect for football. You can get to it if
you climb over where that red Mini Cooper is. Again, there are walls and hedges
enclosing it, so it’s fairly safe, but I wouldn’t recommend hanging around in there
unguarded. In addition to a referee, you want to have a lookout to keep an eye out
for zombies.

“Finally,” Wullie led the way down 13 broad stone steps, “we have the back of the
house.”

The small group stopped and took in the sweeping views of wide open grass, ending
in a watercourse. A golf course bordered by trees stretched away on the other side
of the water. Stone lions, sitting back on their haunches, flanked the steps
leading down to the river walk.
“As you can see,” Wullie said with the pride of a man who was master of his domain,
“we have a river running along the back. It’s not particularly deep, but it would
slow down any zombies enough to give us the chance to pick them off.

“That, lady and gentlemen, completes our tour of the immediate grounds. If you want
to come with me up the front steps here, anyone who’s in will be in the drawing
room. I’ll introduce you around.” Wullie turned on his heel and marched up the
steps bordered by massive and ornate stone flowerpots.

“This is completely surreal,” Fiona remarked as they walked into the wide entrance
hall. “Look at this artwork! And the grounds are stunning here. I could think of
worse places to set up.”

“Beyond the grass we use as a football pitch, there are several other gardens,”
Wullie told her, “including a vegetable garden, which is useful. You’ll enjoy the
walks there. Just make sure you don’t go out alone.”

“Fiona’s right,” Jimmy said. “This place sure is nice. What do you think, Matt?
Matt?”

Matt had stopped, stock-still, at the entrance to the drawing room. His mouth
gaped, and he opened and shut it several times without managing to make a sound.

“Matt? What’s wrong?” Jimmy asked, both amused and a little disturbed by Matt’s
fish-out-of-water impersonation.

“Matt?” echoed a sandy-haired young man from within the drawing room, rising from
the sofa. He looked utterly astounded.

“Jonathan?” Matt finally managed, then he stumbled forward and his brother caught
him in an embrace.

Chapter 3
Fiona looked uncertainly at Jimmy. “Isn’t Jonathan his –?”

“Brother,” Jimmy finished with a nod, taking in the family resemblance between the
two light-haired young men. “But I thought he was in Canada?”

Standing back from his brother enough to gaze at him, but unwilling to let go
entirely, Matt sniffed, and blinked to clear the tears brimming in his eyes. “What
are you doing here, Jonny? I thought you were home. Are Mom and Dad –”

“They’re still home,” Jonathan said. “I was going to surprise you. But then our
plane was forced down. Why don’t we step over to the bar? I’ll tell you the whole
tale from the beginning.”

“Bar?” Fiona queried, with an arched eyebrow.

“Yes, Malcolm runs the bar in Pollock House,” Jonathan clarified, leading the way
through a plain corridor, markedly lacking in the sumptuous décor of the drawing
room. “Old servants’ corridor,” he offered by way of explanation, and then he
continued quickly, his words tumbling over each other.

“Malcolm had set himself up in a liquor store, or rather, off license,” Jonathan
corrected himself with the British term. “I think he wanted to lay his claim. He
figured plenty of survivors wouldn’t be able to cope, and would want to anesthetise
themselves. Even the ones that were dealing with it okay would want an occasional
libation.

“He planned to still run things on the old economic order, and sell to the highest
bidder. Instead of charging money for his alcohol, he was demanding supplies. Gas,
tools, batteries: things that would soon become very valuable. But then the
vampires found him, and I guess he thought they were making him a better offer.”

Throughout this narrative Wullie had been marching behind them, trying to get a
word in edgewise. When Jonathan stopped to draw breath, he saw the chance to re-
establish himself as the one in charge. He finished for Jonathan:

“So he moved into Pollok House with his liquor stores. The vampires put a stop to
his charging for liquor. They like to promote a harmonious atmosphere. But Malky
kept the house bar running anyway,” he concluded, with a disapproving sniff.
“Hey, Malky, drinks all around!” Jonathan shouted as they entered the business
room, which had a makeshift bar erected against the inner wall. “We’re celebrating
the arrival of my brother, Matt,” he squeezed his arm affectionately, “and his
friends . . .”

“Fiona, and Jimmy,” Fiona introduced themselves with a tight smile.

The man who had delivered the message from Vincent was standing behind the bar. She
realised he might not be as old as he had appeared at first glance, but it was
difficult to be certain, as his face was leathery, scarred, and worn with hard
usage. Something about him made Fiona uneasy.

“What’s your pleasure, love?” Malcolm, painfully thin and tall, oozed. “I don’t
often have the privilege of serving such a pretty lady.” His open-mouthed grin
bordered on a leer. Fiona was put in mind of a shark opening his jaws for a tasty
bite.

“Your finest, Malky,” Jonathan commanded graciously. His ebullience matched Matt’s
stunned, though overjoyed, countenance. He had a thousand questions to ask his
brother, but he still hadn’t quite overcome the shock enough to formulate them.

Where Wullie’s military bearing gave the impression of straight lines and order,
Malcolm was all curves and uncomfortable movement. He managed to make the simple
act of pouring plonk into a slippery undulation. From the greased hair to the body
language, everything about him squealed snake oil salesman.

Jimmy narrowed his eyes at the bartender. Fiona could tell he shared her
discomfort. Nothing, however, could dampen the Leblanc boys’ spirits.

“I still can’t believe you’re here!” Matt exclaimed for the tenth time. He refused
to let go of Jonathan’s arm, in case he disappeared. “What are you doing here?”

Already half-way through his glass of bubbly, Jonathan wanted everyone to join in.
“Have a drink with us, Wullie? We’re celebrating!”

“Aye, have a wee swally,” Malcolm wheedled. “You know wee Malky likes to look after
his clients.”

“I need to return to the perimeter,” Wullie replied in clipped tones, turning on

his heel. As he left, Fiona was left with the impression that though he gave the
appearance of deferring to Wullie’s orders, Malky was the one in control of the
situation.

“Okay, okay!” Jonathan yielded to his brother’s pleas for information. “I’ll tell
you everything! Gosh, it’s good to see you!

“I was on my way to France. You don’t know about Elise, do you?” Jonathan smiled at
Matt’s bewildered look. “You’re hard to reach when you’re offshore. It all happened
pretty suddenly. We met on an online forum, and she lives in France, and she’s
pretty special.” He reddened slightly.

“Anyway,” Jonathan continued, “I booked a last minute flight to France, to come

visit Elise. Got a really good price. And I thought while I was in Europe, I’d
contact you, too. See when you were coming ashore, and surprise you then.

“But I never made it as far as France. The plane was forced down. I don’t really
know why. I overheard a couple of the flight attendants talking, and it sounded
like they’d suddenly lost all contact with ground control.

“I don’t know if the last thing the captain had heard was a command to land, or if
he just figured he’d better get on the ground and see what was going on. But the
nearest airport was Glasgow, and that’s where we touched down.

“There are a few others here from my plane. Though a bunch of people took off in
different directions once we’d landed. And we lost a few.” For the first time since
they’d met Jonathan, his face drooped.

“You okay, bro?” Matt asked with concern.

Jonathan threw back the rest of his drink with a grimace. “Yes, fine,” he said
through tight lips. Taking a deep breath, his next words rushed out of him in a
torrent.

“I owe my life to a man whose name I don’t even know. When I was wandering through
the empty airport, lost and uncertain, I surprised one of the zombies. He jumped on
me, and started tearing at my belly.” Jonathan unconsciously ran a hand over his
mid-section.
“This man charged him from behind with a luggage cart. A luggage cart! He was so
brave. Nothing more to protect him than a flimsy metal cage.

“The zombies’ hearing has been destroyed by the plague, so you can sneak up on
them. They can feel vibrations from loud noises, though, and that’s what tipped
this creature off.

“The monster twisted around when the luggage cart was almost upon him, and that’s
what rescued me. But it really angered the zombie, and he attacked the man who
saved me.

“And I couldn’t save him.”

His listeners sat silently, respecting this traumatic revelation. After a moment,
Jonathan concluded briefly, “Then a vampire arrived and offered to bring me here.
Viewing the remains of my first guardian angel, I didn’t think it wise to look a
gift horse in the mouth.”

A bell tinkled on the wall in an indecently merry way, given the sombre turn the
conversation had taken. Malcolm bowed in front of them, refilling their glasses.
“You’ll need to excuse me for a moment,” he said unctuously, and then he let
himself out through a door hidden in a panel.

“The vampires must want something,” Jonathan said in an offhand way.

“Is that who was ringing the bell?” Matt asked curiously.

“Yes,” Jonathan answered. “I’m not sure they’ve quite taken Malcolm into their
confidence, but they seem to prefer using him to deliver messages to us. He’s
pleasant enough.”

“In a slimy way,” Fiona commented. “I get the impression that if he thought it
would advance his position, he’d stab you as soon as your back was turned.”

“That’s awfully harsh, Fiona,” Matt chided her. The alcohol had hit his system, and
he spoke rather more loudly than necessary. “You’ve barely met the man.”
“And it’s not his fault if he’s got a sore leg,” Jonathan chimed in. “It’s an old
war injury. It causes him a lot of pain. That’s why he’s so . . .” Jonathan curled
his limbs in an accurate impression of Malcolm’s body language.

“Oh, he’s got a gammy leg, has he?” Fiona replied. “He was moving quickly enough
there.”

“You’re always so cynical,” Matt dismissed her comments.

“And you’re always so trusting,” Fiona retorted. “It’s charming, Matt, but it does
make one wonder how you ever survived outside of Canada.”

“So Malky doesn’t do any of the patrols, on account of his dodgy leg?” Jimmy
queried. Jonathan nodded.

Fiona interjected, “Let’s give the boys a bit of privacy to catch up, yeah?” She
led Jimmy to a seat far enough away from the bar that they wouldn’t be overheard.

“What are you thinking, Jimmy?” Fiona asked him directly.

“I’m thinking if Malky’s not allowed to charge for his drinks, he’s looking for
something else in return,” Jimmy observed darkly. “And the best gossip is to be got
from people having a wee bevvy.”

“Always on the hunt for information, you reckon?” Fiona nodded. “And he keeps close
to the vampires. It’s neat to have a spy to hand, isn’t it?”

At that moment, the very subject of their conversation appeared in the doorway.
Malcolm’s frame was too thin to block out what loomed behind him, and Fiona gasped
at the sight. She teetered on her chair, and only Jimmy’s strong arms kept her from
crashing to the floor.

Chapter 4

Matt and Jonathan jumped up from the bar at the commotion. When Matt saw what
lurked behind Malcolm he, too, wavered.

“I don’t understand,” Jonathan cried out, bemused. “Why do you all look like you’ve
seen a ghost?”

“Our kindly masters would like me to present you with this token of their
munificence,” Malcolm quoted gravely, obviously repeating a learned phrase.

Still supporting Fiona with one arm, Jimmy stepped forward, his characteristic grin
travelling from ear to ear. He reached out with his free hand, and clasped Fergus’s
arm.

“Good to have you back, matey,” Jimmy beamed.

Her momentary weakness past, Fiona planted herself in front of Fergus, and fixed
him with her toughest stare.

“Fee?” Fergus said gently, with a touch of uncertainty. “You all right?”

“Am I all right?” Fiona roared. “You scared me half to death, you mad man. Don’t
you ever do that to me again! I thought you were going to die, or worse, turn into
a vampire!”

Then her face softened. Though not usually one for public displays, Fiona couldn’t
resist the overwhelming urge to throw her arms around Fergus and kiss him firmly on
the lips.

“Aren’t you the lucky laddie,” Malcolm muttered in the background.

Matt had crossed to his restored friend, and was heartily patting him on the back,
the glasses of prosecco having made his hand heavier than he realised. Fergus’s
knees buckled slightly under this assault.

“Matt, feck off,” Fiona said irritably, though through a broad smile. “Fergs is
obviously feeling a bit worse for wear. He doesn’t need you beating on him.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry Fergus,” Matt apologised. “Did you see who’s here? Jonathan! My
brother,” he added.

His moist eyes taking in this reunion, Malcolm slithered in between the joyous
friends.

“Wee Malky needs to reset the bar for after-dinner drinks,” he whined. “You’d
better get yourselves to the dining room. The patrols’ll be in soon. And no doubt
Wullie will want to assign you to your sleeping quarters. It looks like your
friend,” he nodded at Fergus, “could do with some shut-eye.” He clocked the wound
at Fergus’s neck. Though no longer seeping blood, the twin punctures showed up
lividly.

Fergus smiled weakly, “I’ll manage,” he said. “It’s good to be back with you guys.”
Though the sentiment encompassed all of his teammates, his eyes focused
meaningfully on Fiona.

“Jonathan, will you please show us where the dining room is?” Fiona asked, eager to
be out of Malcolm’s presence. After they’d passed back into the servants’ corridor,
she continued, “Fergus, we were really worried about you. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a bus,” he joked weakly. “I don’t remember much after the
weapons locker in Central Station. What happened?”

“It might be better that you don’t remember much,” Jimmy commented. “We’ll fill you
in over tea.”

“You look pretty good for someone who almost became a vampire, Fergus,” Matt told
him. “Now that I’ve found Jonathan, and you’re back, I don’t think I could be much
happier.”

“How about if Glasgow wasn’t overrun by zombies and vampires?” Fiona queried.

“As for the zombies, we’ll tackle them tomorrow,” Jonathan said. “But let’s get
some supper first, eh? Then we can relax for the evening. We don’t leave the house
after sundown.”

“Of course you do not,” a golden voice poured honey into their ears. “We do not
want anyone to get hurt, do we?” Vincent seemed to have appeared out of thin air.
Which he probably had, Matt reflected. Or at least walked through a door. He was
rather good at that.

At this sudden appearance, Jonathan took a step back and lowered his gaze
deferentially to the floor. Matt took his brother’s cue and did the same. Jimmy
clenched his fists uncertainly. He didn’t want to like the vampire, but he had
saved them from the zombies in the art gallery, and he’d also made good on his
promise to cure Fergus. Despite his otherness, there was something terribly
appealing about Vincent.

Smiling indulgently at Fiona, who seemed ready to kiss the hem of his robe if it
would please him, Vincent directed his next words to Fergus. “I trust you have
returned to rude health. You may feel slightly weak, but a hearty meal will help. I
believe a cow was butchered today, thus you have delicious steaks to look forward
to.

“By tomorrow, you will feel as good as new,” Vincent promised him, his words laden
with conviction. Fiona didn’t know what he’d done to cure Fergus, but the sound of
his voice was so delectable, she believed he might just have instructed him to feel
better.

“Now if you would be so good as to excuse me, I must see to this evening’s
defences.”

With incredible lightness, Vincent floated away. The quintet was left staring
longingly after him, regretting that their meeting had been so brief.

***

“Jonathan, tell me more about your patrols,” Fergus said in his placid, yet
commanding way.

Accompanied by Fiona, Matt, and Jimmy, the five compatriots walked under a canopy
of trees, lifting their feet now and again to clear the speed bumps. Initially
Wullie had been unhappy about their grouping together.

He had tried to break them into patrols of three, and to suggest that Fiona should
work kitchen duty. His martial bearing had quaked, however, under the onslaught of
Fiona’s rage. She made such a scene about what she considered to be a sexist
division of labour that Wullie had finally given in. His decision was helped along
by Jimmy’s refusal to share his holdall of weapons unless his group was allowed to
patrol together.

“There’s not much to tell,” Jonathan began. “We’re divided into trios, usually, by
Wullie, and assigned a part of the park to patrol. Occasionally we go into the
neighbouring streets, but there’s not much need. The vampires keep the house
stocked with food and other supplies.

“Besides, it’s more dangerous outside of the park. We sometimes get the odd walker
in here, but they seem to want to avoid green spaces for the most part. But oh boy,
do they ever congregate in the man-made parts of the city.

“Anyway, our job is to protect the house while the vampires are sleeping, as they
do for us at night. So the sentries at the house have the most important job. I
guess the wider park patrols are just to ensure there are no zombie armies building
up outside our gates.” Jonathan offered a sickly smile at this unpleasant thought.

“I saw your defences at Pollok House,” Fergus said. “Do you know if that’s all the
cars in the park?”

“No, there’s still the odd one scattered about,” Jonathan replied. “I think there
are a few left at the Burrell Collection that we didn’t need for our wall.”

Fergus nodded thoughtfully. Then he picked up his pace to join Jimmy, who was
walking at the front of the group. The two men bent their heads together.

“They’re up to something,” Fiona said suspiciously to Matt. “I hope it’s not more
macho man crap.”

Jonathan looked slightly startled, but Matt was used to Fiona’s mildly misandrist
comments. He was still in a good humour, despite being a little hungover.

“I slept so well last night!” he crowed. “What a difference it makes not to have
vampires disturbing your sleep.”

“And a bottle of bubbly in your belly?” Jonathan asked archly.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mr. Murdoch?” Fiona called out, as Fergus started
to pull away from his huddle with Jimmy.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Fiona,” Fergus said calmly.

“Jimmy!” Fiona said sharply. “What is he up to?”

“Nothing, Fiona,” Jimmy said with all the innocence of a child caught with his hand
in the cookie jar.

Fiona planted herself firmly in Fergus’s path. “You can tell me what’s going on, or
not, but I’m not letting you out of my sight. Last time I left you alone you went
and collected a love bite from a vampire. Who knows what mischief you’ll get up to
if I leave you again.” Though she tried to keep her tone light, panic gripped Fiona
by the throat. Her breath shallowed, and her pulse raced.

“She’s something else, isn’t she?” Jonathan breathed, mildly awed.

“You have no idea,” Matt agreed. He was slightly amused by Fiona’s posturing, but
anxiety had replaced his former elation. He didn’t like the idea of splitting up
again any more than she did.

“Fiona, there’s something that I need to do,” Fergus said, taking her hand. “And
it’s best if I do it alone. You have already put your lives at risk for me. I won’t
ask you to do it again.”

“You don’t need to ask,” Fiona insisted. “I don’t want us to be separated again.
Bad things happen when we’re apart.”

His steady grey eyes held her blue ones.

“I need to look for my son.”

Fiona’s stern look melted away, and it was replaced by tenderness and pity. “Then
I’ll go with you.”
“I don’t want to expose you to danger. It means going out into the city.”

“If you don’t let me come with you, I’ll follow you anyway,” Fiona warned. “Then
Jimmy will come after me to make sure I’m okay, and Matt will follow him, and
Jonathan will follow him, and you’ll have a bloody parade trailing in your wake.”

Fergus sighed. “I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I?” He looked imploringly
at Jimmy.

Jimmy shrugged. “I know better than to argue with her, Fergus.”

“Very well,” Fergus said in a resigned manner. “But you must promise to listen to
what I say. Without question.”

Fiona nodded and bounced merrily on the spot, like he’d promised her an ice cream
rather than a dangerous mission.

“Jimmy, look after the boys for me.”

“We’re not children, Fergus,” Matt chided gently, though he was touched by his
concern. “And you be careful too, please. I want you back in one piece this time.”

“I’ll be good,” Fergus promised. Hand in hand with Fiona, he set off down a side
path.

“Where’s his son?” Jonathan asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” Matt replied. “I didn’t even know he had a son until a couple of
days ago.” A thought struck him, and he said to Jimmy, “Do you have any kids you
haven’t told me about?”

Jimmy grinned bashfully. “Naw. Haven’t found any lady I like that much yet.”

“There’s not really anyone to choose from in Pollok House. Except Fiona, of
course,” Jonathan paused. “We had a couple of lookers, but they went away last
week.”

“Wullie mentioned that,” Jimmy said. “Does that seem strange to you?”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan said. “I hadn’t thought about it too much. We have people
leaving and arriving fairly regularly.

“And your own friend just wandered off in search of his son,” he pointed out. “I
guess the parental instinct is pretty strong.”

They came to a T-junction, and stopped short. Further along to their left, a few
lonely figures were wandering down the road.

“Jonathan, are they some of ours?” Matt asked in an undertone, standing stock-
still.

Jonathan took in their aimless, ambling gait, and shook his head. “I don’t think
so.”

Jimmy raised his shotgun to his shoulder, but they were too far away to get an
accurate shot, and he didn’t want to waste ammunition.

“We need to get closer,” he whispered.

“We what?!” Matt cried through gritted teeth.

“They still have average sight, and slightly enhanced smell,” Jonathan warned him.
“So you have to sneak up on them, quietly, from downwind.”

Jimmy stuck a moistened finger into the air to ascertain that the light breeze was
blowing favourably, and set off silently in the direction of the errant zombies.

“Where does this road lead, Jonathan?”

“Cattle stables. There’s an entrance a bit further on, leads into a fenced
enclosure.”

“That might be a good place to put these guys.”

“Don’t you want to get rid of them?” Matt interjected, amazed.

“Look at the way they’re moving, Matt,” Jimmy instructed. “I don’t think these are
our rage-filled kind. I think they’re more of the adult-children ones.”

Matt didn’t look convinced, but nevertheless he followed the two other men. They
kept their weapons ready, but the zombies made no threatening movements.

Jonathan trod on a dry branch, which cracked resoundingly in the still air. Matt
froze and grimaced at his brother, a look of abject terror marring his features.

“It’s okay,” Jonathan whispered. “They can’t hear, remember?”

Jimmy relaxed a little. “I don’t think they’re dangerous,” he said. “Still, it

might be good to round them up in the corral Jonathan mentioned. Then we can have a
think about what to do with them.”

Moving more quickly now, the three men drove the few adult-children ahead of them.

“Here we go,” Jimmy said, as the small pack unthinkingly let themselves be pushed
into the pen. “That’s us. Now we’ll just shut the gates –”

A snarl interrupted him. Someone else had already though about shutting the gates.

Whirling about to face the entrance, Jonathan saw half a dozen raging zombies
gathered at the opening. He gulped.

“We’ve been herded.”

Chapter 5

“Have you ever been to the Burrell Collection, Fiona?” Fergus asked her as the
modern structure came into sight through the trees.

“No,” Fiona replied, “but I’d like to.” She would have done anything that would
make Fergus even remotely happy.

“It’s got an amazing collection,” Fergus informed her. “Everything from Egyptian
artefacts to Rodin bronzes to Degas paintings. All from Mr. Burrell’s private
collection, which he donated to the city of Glasgow.

“I often thought that if I was rich, I’d like to assemble an awesome collection to
leave behind for others to enjoy.”

“You’ve been a few times, then?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Is it another one of your son’s favourite places?”

Fergus smiled sadly, but fondly as he replied in a proud tone, “He is quite
cultured for such a young man.”

“What’s his name?” Fiona asked gently.

“Stuart.”

Fergus was silent for a moment, and Fiona respected his reminiscing. He made an
effort to shake himself out of his fugue, and pointed at the nearly empty car park.
“Well, Fiona, which rambling adventure vehicle should we pick?” he asked,
suppressing a smile. “The ancient Volvo 850 in British racing green, or the sleek
and modern Ford Fiesta?”

“Are you serious about the Fiesta?” Fiona wrinkled her nose at the screamingly
cerise car. “I’m sure the lassie who owned this went to the dealership and
simpered, ‘Could I have something to match my lipstick, please?’ Ugh.”

“The Volvo it is, then,” Fergus agreed, opening the door. “Just as well. The Fiesta
probably has an immobiliser, and modern cars don’t respond well to jemmying.

“I don’t see a key, but fortunately, these older models are fairly easy to hotwire.
It’d be even better if I had something long and flat to slip into the
ignition . . .”

“Would any of these do?” Fiona asked, rummaging about under the seat. She came up
with a couple of screwdrivers and a wrench.

“Ideal.” Fergus smiled, and jammed the larger screwdriver into the ignition barrel.
It yielded fairly easily. And a moment later, the engine roared to life.

“Do you think it could be any more overcast?” Fiona asked as she settled into the
leather seat. “This kind of gloom barely merits the title of daytime.”

As they pulled onto the single track road, Fergus opened his mouth to reply, but he
was cut off by Fiona’s troubled tone.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” She was peering at the side of the lane, where an
army of rats marched. Rats in a wooded area weren’t unusual, but these ones were.

“Why are they travelling single file?”

Fergus suppressed a shudder. Fiona glanced at him sideways. “You don’t like rats?”

“Who does?” Fergus retorted. His forehead was furrowed. “Do you know what this
reminds me of?”
“Aye, I’ve worked in the marine salvage business longer than you have,” Fiona
nodded. “Rats leaving a sinking ship.”

“Though I must say I’ve never seen such an orderly evacuation,” Fergus commented,
as he accelerated carefully. The speed bumps kept them from driving too quickly,
but he was keen to leave the rodents behind. He was forced to apply the brakes,
however, when they rounded a bend to see the rats crossing the road in front of
them.

But as soon as the Volvo rolled to a stop, the single file throng also stopped at
either side of the lane like a class of school kids, waiting patiently for the car
to pass. Shaking his head bemusedly, though not wanting to miss the opportunity to
put some space between them and the rats, Fergus drove swiftly away. When Fiona
glanced in the rear-view mirror, she noticed them resuming their methodical
departure, crossing the road.

Neither of them spoke for the next quarter of a mile, until the line of rats was
well behind them.

As they turned onto the main road, Fiona started tentatively, “Fergus, I –”

He glimpsed her out of the corner of his eye. She had fallen silent and fixed her
eyes on his punctured neck. It disturbed Fergus to see her look so undecided. It
went against her usually sure and bold manner.

“If there’s something you want to say, Fiona, I’m listening.” There was the
slightest hint of challenge in his tone.

“It was more something I wanted to ask you,” Fiona said hesitantly, “but I’m not
sure it’s my place. Or that you’ll even want to talk about it.”

“Try me.”

“It’s just,” Fiona paused, and then plunged on. “How many years have we worked
together? And I know I wasn’t like, your best friend or anything, but I thought we
had a good relationship. Especially since all this happened.” She flapped her hands
vaguely at the empty streets slipping past. “But I didn’t even know you had a son.
“What else don’t I know about you?” She sat back, a mixture of apprehension and
defiance on her face. To her surprise, Fergus smiled.

“I’ll bet you’ve been wanting to get that off your very fine chest,” he chuckled.

“What?” She sometimes hated how uncannily intuitive Fergus was. He’d assessed her
correctly.

“Well, of course I wanted to ask!” Fiona blurted out, angry now. “But I didn’t have
the chance, what with being attacked by vampires and chased by zombies.

“Then you were bitten, and I didn’t know what was going to happen to you –”

A serious look replaced Fergus’s grin, and he laid a calming hand on Fiona’s knee
while he drove.

“I owe it to you to explain, Fiona, and I will tell you the story from the
beginning. I didn’t talk about it at work because I didn’t feel my private life was
anyone else’s business, and, well, part of the story pertains to a time in my life
I’m not very proud of.

“But before I begin, I want you to understand that the most frightening part of the
last few days for me hasn’t been all these empty cities and towns. It hasn’t been
the vampire and zombie attacks, or even being bitten.

“It’s been the time I thought I would be separated from you – permanently.”

Fiona blushed to the roots of her brown hair, and covered Fergus’s hand with her
own.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Fiona said diffidently. “I’m just so pleased that
you’re back, and you’re all right. I’m sorry I noised you up about it. I won’t ask
you again.”

“I would like to tell you, though. If you want to hear it?”

Fiona nodded emphatically.

“Okay. I guess it begins when I was in my early twenties,” Fergus started. “I was
what you might call directionless. I worked infrequently, and spent most of my time
propping up the bar at my local, and chatting up pretty girls. And not-so-pretty
ones,” he grimaced at the recollection.

“Without going into detail, I wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship, and

most of the time I didn’t bother to stick around the morning after. So I wasn’t
even aware that I’d become a father.

“In fact, Stuart was already four before I knew he existed. His mum died in a car
crash, and it was her parents – Stuart’s grandparents – who got in touch with me. I
remember being somewhat surprised that they’d managed to track me down. I didn’t
always give out my real name back then.” He hung his head.

“I was both thrilled and terrified to find out that I was a dad. It motivated me –
very quickly – to get into gainful employment, so that I could provide for my son.
His grandparents were happy to look after him, and that made more sense since
Stuart was starting school. It also allowed me to make a good living working
offshore, and I sent back most of my wage packet for Stuart’s care.

“I spent time with him in between every job, though. I was saving up, Fiona:
another year or so, and I’d have enough put away that I could take a lower-paying
job onshore, and be close to Stuart. I wanted to be a good dad. Make up for the
early years that I missed.

“But now it might be too late,” he finished grimly. His jaw muscles flexed as he
struggled to swallow back the tears that were fighting their way to the surface.

Fiona held Fergus’s hand tightly, rubbing her thumb back and forth over his pinky.
“So we’re going to his grandparents’ house.”

Fergus nodded ahead, “They’re just around the corner. Only a few blocks away now.”

Fiona squeezed his hand and mustered all her positivity to say reassuringly, “It’ll
be okay.”
But even had perpetually positive Matt been in the car with them, there was no way
to put an encouraging spin on the scene before them as they turned the corner.

A row of stately Victorian townhouses lined one side of the street, facing onto a
small green square crisscrossed with walking paths and dotted with benches. This
pristine city park contrasted drastically with the devastation on the other side of
the street, however.

Halfway along, a burnt-out crater had replaced the grand homes. Scorched sandstone
blocks were tumbled over the charred remains of furniture. Broken crockery carpeted
the ground for a twenty-foot radius. Wreckage that was barely recognisable as soft
furnishings emerged from the buckled structures in a peculiar reversal: the walls
had all collapsed in, the windows were shattered, and everything they had held
safely inside was strewn out across the vicinity.

There was no telling what had created such desolation. Was it a gas explosion: had
someone accidently left a burner on, and a later spark caused the gas cloud to
explode in a raging fireball? Or was it the result of something less mundane and
more bizarre? Twisted metal coated in melted plastic poked out from the centre of
the rubble. Had a helicopter fallen out of the sky and smashed a hole in the midst
of this quiet street?

The destruction was complete: no one could have possibly survived if they’d been in
one of those houses. A tattered white curtain flapped forlornly in the remains of a
blackened window frame, a signal of bleak surrender.

Judging by Fergus’s stricken look of panic, it was indeed one of those homes that
Stuart stayed in. He threw the car into park and flung open his door, without even
bothering to turn off the ignition. He ran toward the ruin, muttering prayers under
his breath.

Fiona was quick to follow him, “Maybe he wasn’t home,” she cried, trying to
convince herself as well as Fergus. “Maybe they were away . . .”

Fergus stopped abruptly at the edge of the rubble. His strong, broad shoulders, the
same ones that Fiona was convinced could shore up the weight of the world better
than Atlas, slumped. They began to shake uncontrollably with explosive sobs.

Drawing even with him, horrified, but unable to stop herself, Fiona followed his
gaze. A thin arm clad in a yellow t-shirt stuck out from under the debris. A little
ways back, a matching child’s leg, encased in yellow cloth, protruded at an
inconceivable angle. The rest of the body was mercifully hidden under the crushing
weight of several tons of sandstone.

“Yellow was his favourite colour,” Fergus gasped, sinking to his knees. “Stuart,
Stuart! I should have been here. Why wasn’t I here?”

He turned grief-stricken eyes upward to Fiona, both accusing and pleading.

Startled, she took a step back. His eyes were glowing red.

Fiona shook her head. That was impossible. It must be a trick of the light.
Steeling herself, she leaned forward to catch Fergus in her arms. Tears flowed
freely down her face.

Fergus was cold to the touch, and shivering violently. She tried to draw him away,
but he recoiled from her touch. He was shaking so badly that he appeared out of
focus.

Fiona reached for him again, but suddenly stopped and straightened up. She’d heard
a low growl. Where had it come from? Were there feral dogs on the street? Or
zombies?

The growling continued to build in intensity. Fiona whirled about, looking for its
source. Her heart raced. It was now so loud that she could feel it vibrating in her
chest.

“Fergus, we need to get out of here!” she cried, dread flowing like cold lava from
the pit of her stomach to the tips of her toes.

As she turned full circle to face Fergus, Fiona stepped back in alarm. With a
shock, she realised the growling was coming from Fergus. His eyes were red: she
hadn’t imagined it! His face had turned lily white, and as he bared his teeth to
let the growl crescendo, she saw pointed canines stab menacingly over his bottom
teeth.

“Fergus! No!” Fiona wavered on the spot, unsure if she should clasp him to her and
hold him there, or flee for her life.

Squinting up at the sky with distaste, Fergus shot straight up, howling. The edges
of his form blurred, and he seemed to spread out into an irregular black shadow
hovering above the ground. The black shape that had been Fergus hung in the air for
a split second, rippling like a sheet in the wind. Then it blasted toward the left,
leaving an anguished cry hanging in the air for several seconds after he’d
disappeared from sight.

Fiona stood, stunned, staring in the direction he had flown off.

A snarl echoed behind her, bouncing off the few houses that were still standing.
With a sense of déjà vu, she turned toward the sound. She moved slowly, half hoping
that Fergus had returned. Vampire or not, she would have welcomed him.

The source of the snarl was not a welcome one. Not in the slightest. A zombie was
racing up the road at full tilt. He was only half a block away, and Fiona could see
more zombies behind him.

“Dammit, Fergus!” she screeched, stumbling toward the Volvo. “You said you wouldn’t
leave me!”

As Fiona threw herself into the driver’s seat, a resounding crack made the back of
the car shudder. The first zombie had run directly into the rear window, generating
a fissure that spread from one side to the other. The glass wouldn’t withstand
another hit like that.

Even as she had the thought, a second zombie butted the back window at speed, and
it shattered. Grasping hands reached inside the car.

Fiona gunned the engine and drove away at high speed, hoping she could dislodge the
unwanted guests. But she underestimated their supernatural strength.

They held on, even as their legs dragged behind the racing vehicle, painting twin
streaks of blood on the road.

Chapter 6

The zombies poured through the gate, heading straight for the men, spitting and
snarling. There was no mistaking their murderous intentions.
Matt cowered backward, and bumped against the corral fence. He couldn’t back up any
further. Several paces ahead of him, his brother was immobile with fear. The
zombies seemed to be approaching incredibly quickly, yet at the same time the scene
was unfolding in exaggerated slow motion.

To their right, the adult-children they’d followed into the pen seemed oblivious to
the danger rushing at them. One of the women craned her neck around to look. She
blinked at the sight, then wandered on, unperturbed.

Jimmy was the only one with the presence of mind to act. He planted his feet
shoulder-width apart and raised his shotgun to his shoulder in one fluid motion.
Aiming carefully, his first shot took the top off the lead zombie’s skull. Even as
its brain matter flew backwards, the rest of its body stumbled forward, spraying
Jimmy with gore as it fell, motionless, a few inches from his feet.

With remarkable sangfroid, Jimmy took aim again, squinting through the blood
dripping down his face, and eliminated a second zombie threat. Suddenly aware that
he was the only one mounting a defence, he roared over his shoulder, even as he
dispatched another zombie, “Some help, you numpties!”

Jonathan shook himself and shakily raised the rifle he was carrying. More monsters
had appeared in the gate and were speeding in to replace the ones that Jimmy had
felled. He shot wildly, and bullets flew into the advancing zombie mass.

His bullets buried themselves in arms, legs, chests – but after a momentary lurch,
still they advanced.

“Aim for their heads!” Jimmy bellowed. “Just like I showed you! Take a breath and
squeeze the trigger!

Jonathan nodded and forced himself to take a deep breath. He aimed more carefully,
and saw a zombie fall.

“I did it! I got one!” he cried, exhilaration mixing with adrenaline and completely
loosening his previously locked muscles.

“What do you want? A sweetie?” Jimmy shouted. “Keep firing!”

The undead onslaught had forced them backwards, and they were now even with Matt,
backs pressed against the tall fence.

“Matt, give us a hand!” Jimmy pleaded, starting to despair as yet more zombies
appeared. They didn’t have any spare ammunition with them. He turned to look at his
friend, who was crouched in a ball, arms over his head.

“MATT! You –” Jimmy started, but before he could finish, two monsters leaped on him
and forced him to the ground. His shotgun flew out of his hands, and he vainly
struggled to raise his arms and wrestle bare-handed with his aggressors.

Slightly in front of the commotion, Jonathan was fully occupied in trying to pick
off zombies as they came through the narrow gate. His aim was improving with each
shot, and he made every bullet count. He caught a blur of movement out of the
corner of his eye.

Not wanting to take his eyes off the menace in front of him, he screamed, “Matt?!
What’s happening?”

Still feeling like he was trapped underwater, the pressure of 20,000 leagues
weighing his muscles down, Matt made a supreme effort to turn his head toward the
screaming. He blinked twice, each time struggling to force his eyelids open again.
He couldn’t make sense of the writhing bodies before him.

He thought he saw a flash of Jimmy’s face, but it was all wrong, all red. And what
were those things on top of him?

Suddenly, as if an elastic had snapped, Matt’s world was propelled into high speed.
His brain twanged as he understood they were under attack, and Jimmy had been taken
down. Jonathan was trying to hold the monsters off, but he was losing that battle.

In two decisive steps, Matt had joined his flailing friend. He pressed the muzzle
of his handgun against a zombie’s head and pulled the trigger. He slew the second
one just as it was fastening teeth on Jimmy’s neck.

Jonathan was cursing as his rifle clicked uselessly: it had no bullets left to
propel. A zombie was hurtling at him, now only a few steps away. Stepping forward
again, Matt levelled his arm and shot it.
Turning his attention to the gate, Matt let a hail of bullets burst forth from his
handgun. Enough found their mark to halt the remaining monsters.

The sudden silence after the barrage of gunfire and the howls of zombies was
disconcerting. Jonathan stuck a finger in his ear to try and clear the ringing.
Jimmy grunted as he shoved the inert bodies off, and gave them a good kick as he
rose to his feet. Matt sunk to his knees, dropped his weapon, and hung his head.

“Thanks, mate,” Jimmy said quietly, clapping Matt on the shoulder. A high-pitched
noise pierced the air, escaping from his friend’s lips.

“Matthew?” Jonathan queried, putting his hand on his brother’s other shoulder.

Working his lips frenetically, a wail burst forth from Matt. “Yukuddabeankilt!”

Jimmy frowned at Jonathan. He shook his head; he couldn’t quite make out what Matt
had said, either. Squeezing his shoulder, he asked gently, “Pardon me?”

Matt kept his eyes fixed downward, addressing a clot of dirt. Trying to calm his
breathing, he managed a bit more clearly, “You could’ve been killed! I didn’t do
anything. I just froze. I – I – If something had happened to you, it would have
been all my fault.” Tears slipped down his face.

“You came through when it counted,” Jimmy said philosophically. Aware that they
were still in a vulnerable situation, he looked at Jonathan and asked, “Fastest way
back to the house from here?”

“Across that field,” Jonathan nodded.

“Awright, big man,” said Jimmy, hauling Matt to his feet. “Let’s get out of here,
in case these guys have any more friends coming. I need a shower,” he added,
mopping brain matter from his face.

“I need a drink,” Matt muttered.

“I’m sure wee Malky’ll help us out,” Jonathan assured him.

***

Jimmy vigorously rubbed a towel over his hair with one hand, the other on the
banister of the curved staircase as he descended to the ground floor. He paused in
the act of towelling as an awful din reached his ears.

“O the year was seventeen-seventy-eight!” a tuneless voice caterwauled from the

business room.

“How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now!” a slightly more tuneful voice bawled in
reply.

His eyebrows drawn together, Jimmy headed into the house bar, and was greeted by a
disgraceful sight. Matt and Jonathan were singing away, pounding their glasses and
stomping their feet. Malky squirmed behind the bar, clapping along. The Canadians’
rendition of a sea shanty had more in common with cats copulating than any
respectable folk music.

Matt rose for the grand finale, climbing on top of the table and waving his arms
about dramatically, while Jonathan desperately held on to the teetering furniture,
attempting to keep it from spilling his brother onto the floor.

“Now I’m a broken man on a Halifax pier, the last of Barrett’s Privateeeeeeers!”
Matt moaned. “Hiya, Jimmy! You missed our drinking song! Shall we start again? O
the year was –”

“You’re all right,” Jimmy cut him off firmly, and caught him as Jonathan lost his
battle with the table and it pitched on its side. “Malky, how much did you give
these boys to drink?”

“Master Matt wanted some shots, you see, to calm his nerves like,” Malcolm whined.
“I have to do what my customers ask of me. I didn’t know the lad couldn’t hold his
liquor.” He twisted away, as if body-swerving any responsibility for Matt’s pitiful
state.

“He used to struggle with drinking a little bit,” Jonathan said to Jimmy in an
undertone. “That’s one of the reasons he decided to work abroad. He wanted a fresh
start, to put the drinking behind him.”

“And he came to Scotland to avoid drink?” Jimmy raised his eyebrows incredulously.
“He didn’t think that one through.”

“That’s why I went offshore,” Matt slurred. “No drinky-poos at the bar in the
middle of the water!” He shook Jimmy’s hand off, and headed for a chair that he
hadn’t knocked over yet. He carefully positioned his bum over the seat, flexed his
knees, and missed it entirely. Matt crashed onto his tailbone, and he rolled about
on the floor, giggling. “That’s sexy fuuuu –” Even drunk, Matt couldn’t quite
overcome his default politeness and swear. He mumbled incoherently, then finished,
“smart, Randy!”

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan apologised. “I think he snuck in extra drinks when I wasn’t
looking. I didn’t know he’d had so much, or that he’d get this bad . . .”

“Matt, time to get you a wee lie down so you can sleep this off,” Jimmy said
gently, giving him a hand up from the floor. “You’ve had enough for now.”

Swinging his arm away, Matt rounded on Jimmy. “Don’t you tell me what to do! I’ve
just had a couple of drinks!” Any further attempts to talk were interrupted by a
fit of hiccups.

His kindly features hardening, Jimmy tried to reason with his friend. “I know it’s
been a stressful day, mate, but drinking isn’t going to solve anything. C’mon,
let’s go.”

Grabbing a bottle off the bar, Matt waved it wildly in an arc, fending off both
Jonathan and Jimmy. “You leave me – hic – alone!”

“Matt, please, listen to me,” Jonathan tried to distract him. “We just want to help
you.”

Surprisingly for someone so inebriated, Matt’s instinct was still working, and he
sensed Jimmy approaching him from behind. With an inarticulate yell, interrupted by
hiccups, he swung the full bottle at Jimmy’s face.

Jimmy caught Matt’s arm with his left hand, while with his right he hooked Matt on
the chin. He fell backwards, unconscious.

“What did you do that for?” Jonathan cried, springing to his brother’s side and
lifting his head gently.

“I don’t let anyone break a bottle over my head. Not even my friends,” Jimmy
replied grimly. “I’m going to put him upstairs to sleep it off. You going to help
me?”

Jonathan nodded.

“And you,” Jimmy pinned Malcolm to the wall with a threatening stare, “if I ever
catch you serving my friend alcohol again I will be – very – unhappy.” He paused
and looked at Malcolm with disgust as the skinny man undulated uncomfortably.

After the trio had left the room, Matt carried by the other two, Malcolm made a
rude gesture at their retreating backs.

“Wee Malky is just looking after his customers,” he griped. “Don’t know why I get
the blame when they don’t know when to stop.”

Chapter 7

“Sir! Sir! There’s a Volvo approaching at high speed!”

Reacting to the sentry’s warning shout, Wullie jogged across the forecourt toward
the hastily erected watch tower. He grabbed the binoculars from his guard and
jammed them to his eyes. His abrupt gesture nearly garrotted the hapless sentry.

With a snort, he lowered the binoculars, allowing air to pass freely through the
guard’s trachea once again. Taking no notice of the man gasping and clutching his
windpipe, Wullie swung himself down from the structure.
“Bloody woman driver,” he muttered to himself as he stalked across to the entry
gate. “Let her in!” he barked, and stood back as the dented car screamed into the
parking lot of Pollok House.

Wullie was displeased. He’d had more than enough excitement already that day. First
the new chap, the one built like a brick outhouse, had charged in with the two
skinny foreigners in tow, shouting about zombies on the grounds. Wullie had
immediately called in all his patrols and fortified the house perimeter.

Now this excitable woman had rushed his gates, barely waiting for them to open
before tearing in. She was already out of the car and running for the house. She
hadn’t even bothered to turn off the engine or shut the door behind her. This was
too much.

“Now you! Wait a minute!” Wullie shouted at her retreating back. “We have protocols
to follow here! Where have you been? Why did you abandon your patrol? Why didn’t
you come back when the patrols were recalled?”

Fiona suddenly whirled around and marched up to Wullie until her chest bumped
against his. Her eyes sparking, she shouted back even more loudly.

“Where have I been? Dodging zombies on my own, that’s where. You have no idea what
I had to do to get here. Oh, yeah, and that was after watching the man I love
transform into a vampire, morph into a puff of smoke, and fly away on the wind.

“I have a few questions for Vincent and the other vampires that are supposedly
protecting us and hell mend you if you think you’re getting in my way!”

Somewhat taken aback by this direct affront to his authority, Wullie babbled, “B-
but the vampires don’t talk to us. We never see them, especially during the day.
The only one who does is that tube behind the bar –”

“Great. Then he can tell me where to find them,” Fiona retorted, turning on her
heel. She was already ten steps away before Wullie recovered enough to call out a
feeble warning.

“They won’t be happy to see you.”

“They certainly won’t be once I’ve finished with them,” Fiona replied in a hard
voice, running up the ornate entrance staircase two steps at a time.

Wullie shook his head in disgust. Women. He was glad they didn’t have many in the
house. And this newly arrived one – and her friends – were particularly
troublesome. Maybe they should stop taking in new arrivals.

Though given the amount of people who seemed to wander off, he supposed they needed
the reinforcements to keep the numbers up. And he wouldn’t like to cross the
vampires. As long as they recruited survivors and sent them to him, Wullie would
show them the ropes.

He crossed to the smashed-up Volvo Fiona had left running, in order to park it more
neatly. He hoped she didn’t raise the vampires’ ire too much. Annoying as she was,
he had a grudging respect for her feisty nature.

***

Inside the house, Fiona cut sharply to the right and headed directly to the
business room. There she found Malcolm muttering to himself as he swept up glass
and debris from the floor. His sinuous body movements made her think of a revolting
pole dance as he twisted around the broom.

“Oi! Malky! Where do I find Vincent?”

Startled, Malcolm dropped the dust pan. His mouth opened and closed silently as the
shock of this demand stopped any words from reaching the surface. After a moment,
he managed, “Our masters do not like to be disturbed. Now, if you should like me to
relay a message –”

“This is a personal matter. I will speak to them myself. Where do they stay during
the day? Tell me now!” She stomped her foot emphatically.

Smiling ingratiatingly, Malcolm tried to take Fiona’s arm and lead her to a chair.
“Listen, hen, they don’t want to be disturbed. Why don’t I pour you a drink and we
can talk about it?” He wriggled his shaggy eyebrows at her lewdly.

With a smile that was more of a grimace, Fiona squared off against Malcolm, and
grabbed him by the upper arm.
“Let me tell you a little about the last half hour,” she began in a sweet, low
voice. “Not so long ago, I was about as happy as someone who’d survived the end of
the world could be. Then without warning, the man I care about most on this planet
was taken away from me.” Her grip on Malcolm’s arm tightened.

“And I didn’t even have time to mourn him, because I had zombies running after me.
Did you know that a zombie will not let go of the back of your car, even at 100
miles an hour, even when they’ve got nothing left below the knees? Do you have any
idea how hard it is to get rid of those things?

“I fishtailed that car all over the place, driving over pavements and speed bumps
and anything else I could find to try and shake them loose. But they – wouldn’t –
let – go!” She shook Malcolm with each word to emphasise her frustration.

“I finally got rid of one by scraping the rear bumper along a guard rail. But by
that time, the second one had actually climbed in through the rear window.”

The people who weren’t on perimeter guard and were propping up the bar instead had
all turned toward Fiona, seized by her tale. They were so enthralled by the story
of her great escape that no one noticed Malcolm’s discomfort as the circulation to
his lower arm was cut off by Fiona’s hysterical grip. One of them ventured, “What
happened next?”

“When I felt that fetid breath on the back of my neck, I slammed on the brakes and
ducked.

“The zombie went right through the windscreen and rolled down the bonnet. Before it
could crawl its way back into the car, I drove into a tree and pinned it against
the trunk. It let go long enough for me to reverse away.”

Fiona slackened her grasp on Malcolm’s arm, and shifted her grip so that she was
pinching his triceps. He gasped as her nails dug in.

“Now, dear wee Malky, would you be so kind as to tell me where I can find Vincent.
Or do I have to drag you along while I search this house myself?”

“Downstairs!” Malcolm cried out, and sharply blew out his breath with relief as she
let go of his arm. “In the old servants’ quarters. They rest down there. But they
will not take kindly to your arrival.”
“I’ll bet they won’t,” Fiona commented as she stormed away.

When his carefully memorised phrase had no effect, he slipped back into his natural
accent and shouted after her, “I widnae dae that!” Fiona continued out, heedless.

Her audience, Malcolm excluded, rose and applauded her as she left.

“Plenty of entertainment since that crew arrived, yeah?” a man said, raising his
glass to the departing Ms. Sugar.

***

Fiona shivered in the coolness of the tiled corridor. Her eyes could barely
penetrate the gloom. The only reason she could see even dimly was that the tiles
were white. Dark doors lined the hall at regular intervals. Which one to start
with? Where would a vampire go to sleep?

“Ms. Sugar,” a luscious voice tickled the back of her neck. “May I help you?”

Fiona turned her red face up to Vincent’s pale one. He was smiling benevolently at
her, his pointed teeth shining in the obscurity. She struggled to hold on to her
anger, but it was like grasping bubbles. Her rage squeezed between her fingers and
evaporated, replaced by a dreamy lassitude.

“You seem upset, my dear,” Vincent’s voice was saturated with care and concern.
“Please, do me the honour of joining me in my sitting room. You will be more
comfortable there, and you can tell me what ails you.”

Mutely, Fiona trailed along behind him, following the vampire as he turned right
and entered a richly appointed chamber of dark wood and plush armchairs. A lamp,
turned on so low that it seemed to increase the shadows rather than dispel them,
stood in the corner. Velvet drapes covered the small, high window.

With unhurried satisfaction, Vincent settled himself into a carved, high-backed

chair reminiscent of a throne. He arranged his robes carefully around him, and then
he leaned forward, locking eyes with Fiona.
“I sense that you may have questions about what happened with Mr. Murdoch.”

The fury flared within her anew, and she rose out of her chair. “You told me that
you’d cured him!”

Vincent slowly extended a hand in a conciliatory gesture. Fiona watched him warily,
but when she didn’t protest, he went so far as to touch her hand. She gave a
startled gasp. Vincent’s touch left her fingers numb, yet tingling, like ice on
bare skin. Her heart rate increased, and at the same time she could feel her bile
cooling.

“I owe you clarification,” Vincent began contritely. “Will you allow me a few
moments to explain?”

Fiona nodded hesitantly, sinking slowly back into her chair. After all, she’d come
back to demand answers. Maybe he would tell her something about how to help Fergus.
She would give him a few minutes of her time.

“You are a remarkable woman,” Vincent said warmly, still keeping hold of her hand.
“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to explain. I can see that you are strong
enough to handle the truth.

“I must warn you, however, that what I am about to tell you relates to the greatest
secrets of my race. Very few humans know of it. But you will know all.”

Fiona half-closed her eyes, so she could concentrate all the better on drinking in
his honey tones, and feeling the gentle stroking of his fingers over hers.

“Vampires need a source of blood as food,” he explained. “I am sure that is of no

surprise to you. However, with you, dear Fiona, I will be quite candid: the intent
is always to kill. To drain all of the blood.

“If we do not, it actually makes us ill, very ill. So ill that we might even die.
The first danger comes from air embolism: aerated blood is poison to us.

“If we are merely disrupted, however, and unable to finish our meal . . . then some
of a vampire’s power is transferred to his victim. This is known as mordus
interuptus. It is a very rare occurrence, as we vampires do not intend to be
weakened by our prey.

“Such mordus interuptus victims become ill. Then they get, apparently, better. They
are usually inherently stronger if they survive the infection of vampire venom. The
transformation into vampire form is not effected unless it is triggered by an
exceedingly strong emotion.

“Thus someone once bitten can live a long time without becoming a vampire. Often,
it never even comes to light, if you will pardon the pun, because they might die a
natural death before they transform.”

“That goes some way to explaining why the world hasn’t been overrun with new
vampires,” Fiona murmured. Through the pleasant haze clouding her reasoning,
something clicked in her mind. Exceedingly strong emotion. What stronger emotion
was there than being faced with the grief of losing a child? If Vincent was telling
the truth, then it made sense that Fergus’s transformation was only completed after
they’d found Stuart’s body.

“Yes, very good,” Vincent complimented her approvingly. “I knew you would catch on
quickly. You are as intelligent as you are beautiful, Fiona.” Her heart fluttered
at his appreciation.

His sweet-scented breath enveloped her in a heady fog. Overwhelmed by the charm,
Fiona opened her eyes, and was astonished to find Vincent’s stunning face only a
few inches from her own. She could clearly discern desire in his features, feel it
in his hands that had slid to her thighs, sense it from the firm way he took
possession of the situation.

“Fiona,” he breathed. “There is so much that I would like to show you.” His eyes
opened wide, and she felt herself falling forward, sinking in those tawny twin
pools of promise. “Do you have the courage to come with me?”

Chapter 8

Jimmy’s face was still a thundercloud as he descended the curving staircase. Trying
to lighten the mood, Jonathan suggested, “Do you want to have a drink?”
“I’ve had enough of Malky and his false pleasures. If I saw that sleekit basturd
again today, I don’t know if I could hold myself back from skelping him, too.”

“Ah. Right. Well . . . I’ll just get my backpack out of there, then,” Jonathan
smiled weakly as he headed for the boisterous bar.

Jimmy stomped through the wide hallway, and it took some effort for him to refrain
from punching the square columns as he passed. His mood wasn’t improved when he
accidently bumped shoulders with a man coming the opposite way, who’d asked him why
he had a face like fizz.

Jimmy clenched his fists and strode away without answering. He ended up in the
music room, looking moodily out over the lawn.

It had cost him a great deal to punch his friend in the face. Part of it had been
instinct: it wasn’t the first time Jimmy had had a bottle swung at him, and Matt
certainly wasn’t an experienced bar fighter.

But the rest of his motivation was entirely deliberate. Matt had been too far gone
to listen to reason. And he needed a sharp wake-up call if he wanted to avoid a
real drinking problem. Maybe a swollen jaw once he’d sobered up would remind him
what acceptable behaviour was.

Jimmy shook his head. He wondered if this was what parents felt like when they had
to correct their children: angry at their misbehaviour, but also hurt that the
child would ever act like that, and desperately wanting to give them a big hug.

A movement in the distance caught Jimmy’s eye. He leaned forward, pressing his
forehead again the glass, squinting at the tree line on the other side of the
river. Before he could discern what he’d thought he’d seen stirring, however, a
sudden high-pitched note behind him made him jump.

“’Sake, Jonathan! Do you have to sneak up on me like that?”

Jonathan grinned sheepishly, shrugging his rucksack further up his shoulder.

“Sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s kind of a compulsion. You know,
see a keyboard, strike a note?

“Anyway, I didn’t come in here to play piano. I came to tell you Fiona was back.”
“And Fergus?”

“I don’t know about Fergus. I think Fiona was alone.” He frowned. “Evidently she
was all worked up. She came into the bar shouting about the zombies she’d escaped
from, and demanding to talk to Vincent. She was blaming him for something.”

Jimmy was already out of the door. Jonathan hurried to catch up. “Where are you
going?”

“To find Fiona. If I know her, she’d confront Vincent with a full head of steam.

“Which could get her killed.”

“One of the guys saw her head downstairs.”

Accordingly, Jimmy headed toward the grand entrance hall and loped down the
impressive staircase. Jonathan followed hot on his heels, but hesitated before the
door to the servants’ quarters.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re not really supposed to be down here. The vampires won’t like it . . .”

“You don’t have to come.” Jimmy didn’t hesitate at all as he burst into the murky,
white-tiled hall.

It was empty.

“How long ago did Fiona leave the bar?”

“Just a few minutes.”

“Then she can’t have gone far.” Jimmy walked to the left and tried the handle of
the door nearest to him. It swung inward, to reveal –

“Broom cupboard.”

The next door led to empty toilets. The next room was also empty, outside of some
collapsed boxes. But the next door . . .

Jimmy grunted. “Why do you think this one is locked, if they haven’t bothered to
lock the others?”

“Let me see.” Jonathan stepped in front of the door, and slipped a slim case out of
his backpack. “I thought these might come in handy.”

“Is that a lock pick kit?”

“Yeah, just a basic one. Don’t tell Matt, but this is how I used to get into his
collection of stroke mags when we were younger. He thought a padlock on the box
would stop anyone from finding them.

“There we go.”

Hesitating momentarily, Jonathan took a deep breath and pushed open the door. An
even darker corridor stretched out in front of them. He looked a question at Jimmy,
but the big man had already started striding down the cool tunnel.

“I was afraid you’d do that,” he murmured to himself. Sighing resignedly, he took

an electric torch out of his bag, and handed it to Jimmy.

“Thanks mate. You’re well prepared with your bag of tricks.”

“I used to be a Boy Scout.”

They proceeded silently along the poorly lit hall, their steps echoing hollowly.
The walls were roughly finished, and the ceiling was much lower than in the
corridor they’d just come from.

“I think we’re underground.”

“Really,” Jonathan failed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice at what he
considered a blindingly obvious statement.

“I don’t just mean in a basement. I mean under the ground. We can’t still be under
the house any more. We’ve come too far. Where do you think this tunnel leads?”

Jonathan considered for a moment. “That would explain why it’s so chill and damp.
If I haven’t lost my bearings, I’d say we were walking under the formal gardens
now. Hey!” A thought struck him. “Do you think this leads to the stables? That’s
the only building in this direction.”

Jimmy waved the torch about, and a reflection glinted back in time with his
gestures.

“The end of the tunnel is coming up, so we’ll find out soon enough.”

They marched silently on. A few minutes later, a heavy wooden door, which seemed to
be an original from the Edwardian period, barred their passage.

“That’s funny,” Jonathan commented. “Why would you put a lock on this side of the
door? It wouldn’t be for the vampires’ benefit. They can go right through locked
doors.”

“You’d lock this side if you wanted to keep whoever was inside from getting out.”

Jonathan’s eyes widened in the dim light. “Do you think there’s someone being kept
prisoner in there?”

“Can you pick this padlock?”

Jonathan nodded, and Jimmy directed the light over his work. After a few minutes
the tarnished lock sprang open, and they gingerly opened the door. It didn’t squeak
or scrape at all: it had obviously been used recently.

They proceeded cautiously into the room, without using the flashlight at first.
There was no noise. They seemed to be alone. Feeling their way forward along the
wall, they entered a second room that was also deathly still.

Jonathan swore under his breath as he stumbled against a sturdy pile of rags on the
ground.

“Jimmy, shine the light over here. I can’t see where I’m going.”

His irritability was replaced by repulsion, however, when Jimmy switched on the
light and brought it to bear on his stumbling block. He froze, staring with horror
at the mound at his feet.

Jimmy let out a low whistle. “Wullie said people come and go all the time here,
yeah? I’m starting to understand why.”

Jonathan shook his head in denial. Jimmy took hold of his shoulder, not unkindly,
and forced him to look down at the heap of bodies. “What do you see, Jon?”

“I don’t want to see anything.”

“I’m sorry, mate, but you need to face the truth. Do you recognise any of these
people?” Jonathan closed his eyes, rather than risk recognising any of the pale
corpses before him. He stood silently, frozen with fear and disgust.

“I’ll tell you what I see. Each one of these poor souls has got fang marks in his
neck. None of them look like they’ve got a drop of blood left in them.”

“No!” Jonathan thawed suddenly, and ranted about the room, waving his arms. “No!
The vampires didn’t kill these guys! See that one, there? His name is Jonathan,
too. That’s why I remember it. He only stayed with us a few hours, and then he
wanted to leave. I watched him leave through the park. He walked out of the front
gate. He wasn’t bitten by a vampire!”
Jimmy chuckled.

“This is hardly a time to laugh!”

“Free-range humans.”

“What?!”

“Jonathan, have you seen any vampires besides the one who ‘rescued’ you?”

“No, we don’t see them much. They don’t come out during the day. And we don’t go
out at night. I’ve seen some through the windows. At least, I think it was them.
Shadows stealing swiftly across the lawn –”

“They’re hunters. They don’t need our protection. Not from the zombies. Not from
anything.

“Don’t you get it? They’ve built up storehouse of edible, tasty humans, and kept
them handy until they were ready to eat. What did you think they were feeding on?
They haven’t been joining us for meals in the dining room.”

“I thought, maybe, the zombies . . .” Jonathan offered by way of feeble

explanation. Never underestimate the power of denial. He’d wanted so badly to
believe that the vampires meant it when they’d offered him safety, that he’d never
questioned the strange living arrangements, or the frequent disappearances.

“Given all the trouble they’ve gone to to collect survivors, I wonder if they can
drink the zombies’ blood,” Jimmy’s mind was working furiously. The general
consensus was that he was dim-witted, but he was actually a remarkably experienced
man. He wasn’t likely to go for a university degree, but there wasn’t much about
the ways of the world that escaped his notice.

“Maybe the plague affected them somehow, so the zombies aren’t suitable food,”
Jimmy continued his line of reasoning out loud.
“And I’ll bet that vigorous, healthy humans with blood pumping quickly through
their veins taste better than ones that are shut up in a dungeon, waiting to be
eaten.”

“So what are you saying?” Jonathan interjected, seeing the logic of Jimmy’s
reasoning, but not wanting to believe it. “That the environs of Pollok Park are an
amusing hunting ground for the vampires? That they set a human free, and then chase
it to its death?”

“These guys have had their blood drained. And we’re living with a house full of
vampires. What do you think happened?”

Their postulating was interrupted by a low moan from above them. They froze, and
listened. More groans, as of pain, floated to them. Exchanging glances, they
stepped carefully up the stairs, and they peeked around the doorframe.

Though above ground, this room was nearly dark, as heavy curtains had been drawn
across the windows. It was difficult to make out in the darkness, but the chamber
seemed to contain bodies, too. Except these ones were stretched out on individual
pallets, and they were rather large. Another groan was squeezed from one of the
figures, and it was echoed from the adjoining bed.

“They’re alive,” Jonathan whispered.

Glancing about, Jimmy stepped fully into the room, and shone his light on the
nearest face. A woman, pale and drawn, writhed uncomfortably on her bed. Her
countenance was haggard, but her facial contours suggested she had been a great
beauty before her features were disfigured with hurting. Her wrists were chained to
the stone wall, and red, raw lesions marred her skin where it chafed against the
metal. Her belly was hugely distended, as if she were expecting. In fact, all of
the women – and they were all women – in the room seemed to be in an advanced state
of pregnancy.

“Jonathan,” Jimmy said grimly. “Are these your lookers? The ones you said left to
go find their children?”

Jonathan nodded sadly as he examined the pain-filled faces.

“I don’t understand. They look like the same women, but they weren’t pregnant when
they left. Or at least, they weren’t showing. But these women look like they’re
about to drop a child at any minute.”
Jimmy started to offer an explanation, but he was interrupted by Jonathan’s shrill
scream.

“Look out!”

Jimmy spun about and fired the shotgun that never left his side. The bullets passed
right through the two vampires who had appeared, with as little effect as a feather
landing.

“Curtains!” Jimmy shouted as he broke the wooden gun handle over his knee in
frustration.

The women in the room set up a despondent wail, shrieking and howling in fear and
pain. Jonathan couldn’t make out what Jimmy was saying through the racket. He
backed up against the wall, paralysed by a feeling of déjà vu. Except this time it
was vampires, not zombies.

“What?” Jonathan tried. But Jimmy was now grappling with one of the vampires,
trying desperately to keep his neck away from the grasping fangs – far too occupied
to reply to Jonathan.

“The window!” A weak voice rose from below Jonathan’s elbow. He looked down into
the formerly pretty face of a woman with limp, yellow hair. Jonathan flashed back
to the same face, vibrant and glowing, with shining hair curled seductively about
it. She had flirted with him over dinner once.

“They hate light! Pull the curtain!” She struggled to raise her head so that
Jonathan could hear her better, but the effort had exhausted her. She fell back,
sapped of energy.

Jonathan finally understood. He grasped the weighty material in both hands, and
tugged.

The curtains had been nailed in place along all sides, however, and they refused to
budge. “C’mon!” he pleaded with the fabric as he yanked harder. Out of the corner
of his eye he saw that Jimmy had stopped struggling.
At the same moment a force hit him like an avalanche as the second vampire
attacked. Ironically, the vampire’s charge at Jonathan knocked his legs out from
under him, which put his full weight onto the curtains. They tore asunder.

An unholy screeching rose above the women’s clamour, and the pressure on Matt’s
legs was relieved as the vampire let go and rolled away from him, trying to escape
the rays of sun penetrating his skin. Smoke and stench filled the air.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Jonathan shouted recklessly at the vampire burning
before his eyes.

Even though the creature’s screams diminished as he smouldered away, still the
volume of aural disturbance in the room was escalating. Though it hardly seemed
possible, the women’s screeching intensified in pitch and loudness. A note of
primal pain had drowned out the fear.

“Put it back up! It’s burning the women, too!” Jimmy had surged from beneath the
still body of the other vampire, and gathered up the curtain from where it hung in
tatters. Horrified, Jonathan joined him in holding the fabric back over the window.
Spying a roll of duct tape on the floor, he scooped it up and used it to quickly
patch over the tears.

Once the room had returned to shadows, the despairing screaming died away into
desolate moans. Jonathan shuddered as he looked at the vampire bodies, one in
ashes, and the other with the handle of Jimmy’s shotgun sticking through its chest.

“That was close.”

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Jimmy replied, peering through a slash at the
edge of the curtain. “Did you happen to look across the river while you were
putting the curtain back together?”

“No. Why?”

“Zombies. Lots of ’em.”

“Where?”
“Headed toward the house.”

Jonathan blanched. “Fiona and Matt are in the house!”

Chapter 9

Fiona nodded subconsciously. As she moved her head, something pricked at the back
of her mind, and her nod altered into a side-to-side shake. She had come down here
for a reason. She was looking for information . . . from Vincent.

Vincent. She focused on his golden eyes, holding her own with irresistible
charisma. Whenever he was around he seemed to fill all of the space surrounding her
with his importance. His presence made it exceptionally difficult to focus on
anything else. And this power seemed to increase exponentially as he drew closer.
Even now he hovered only inches away.

Fiona struggled to sever eye contact, but it was as difficult as snapping a green
sapling. As much as she turned her head and bent her gaze, Vincent’s eyes remained
locked on hers, maintaining a flexible connection that bowed without breaking.

With a supreme effort she finally managed to wrench her eyes away. She only
succeeded because she started by sliding her eyes down slightly to focus on his
regal nose. Then she shifted her gaze a bit more to concentrate on his full,
luscious lips. More effort was required to leave those double bearers of promise
and stare at the straight white line of Vincent’s neck, which looked as if it would
be heaven to throw her arms around.

As her eyes travelled further from his, it became marginally easier to keep looking
away. Once she’d edged past the few fine hairs curling at the start of his torso,
his flesh was hidden by dark robes. His clothes elegantly hinted at the chiselled
chest barely covered by the millimetres of cloth, the strong hips, the muscular
legs.

After what seemed like hours of concentrated effort, her tilted glance finally
arrived at the hem of his robe, which rippled gently above the floor. Above the
floor!
Her impression that he’d been hovering so closely to her wasn’t an impression at
all, but a startlingly accurate assessment by her addled brain: Vincent was
actually floating. She fleetingly wondered how tall he truly was, and how much of
his apparent height was due to his tendency not to let his feet touch the ground.

This realisation shocked her enough that Fiona leaned away from his enchanting
eyes, his handsome features, his seductive smile.

“I’m ready,” she said, stalling for time. “What did you want to show me?” Desperate
for space to remember what it was that she’d come down to do, she stood and took
several shaky steps away, waiting expectantly. She tried to look nonchalant.

Vincent smiled indulgently. “Perhaps I did not choose my words well. It is more of
a story that I want to tell you. I promised to reveal our deepest secrets to you,
because you are gifted enough to handle the truth. Please, do make yourself
comfortable.”

He smoothly slid an arm around her waist, and she shivered pleasurably. He led her
to a low couch, where he settled himself beside her, and between her and the door.
Back in such close proximity to him, Fiona felt the drowsiness descending over her
like a curtain.

Curse him, she thought defiantly. He knew how much exertion it took for me to break
that eye contact, and he patiently let me do it. And now he’s even closer than
before. He’s playing with me. Though increasingly, it seemed like it might be an
agreeable game.

His legs pressing firmly against hers, Vincent gently turned Fiona’s face to his,
locking his eyes on hers once again. He placed one arm casually along the back of
the sofa and behind her neck. With his other hand he tenderly brushed a wisp of
hair behind her ear, and traced her jaw line. His touch tingled on her bare skin.

“Ah, Fiona, you are talented. Strong. Beautiful. Intelligent.” His hand drifted,
unhurried and deliberate, down the side of her throat. With the lightest touch of
butterfly wings, he stroked her neck. Each word, every compliment, weighed
pleasantly on her, and she sank comfortably into the embroidered couch.

“From the moment I became aware of your presence, I knew that you were
exceptional,” he breathed, so softly that she held her own breath so that she
wouldn’t miss a word. “I forbade my brothers from approaching you.
“I must admit that I harboured a touch of jealousy. As much as I respect my
brothers, I did not want any of them to come within reach of you, for fear that
they would realise how special you are.”

“Don’t you have any sisters?”

Vincent bestowed a curious smile upon her. “Female vampires are extremely rare,
Fiona. Our genetics are such that new births almost exclusively produce males.”

“Then how do you have new births?” Fiona asked, genuinely curious. But Vincent
pursued another train of thought instead of answering her query.

“For so long, Fiona, we have lived in the shadows. The spread of humanity has
forced us to retreat so far into hiding that we have taken on a mythical status.
People did not believe that we existed, and thought that the ancient tales were
horror stories to frighten children.

“Do you know what it is like to be present, but ignored? To have huge potential,
but to be forced into submission by the majority? To want to showcase your talents,
but to be dismissed merely because of your race?”

Or because of your gender, Fiona added silently. A career spent working in marine
salvage, a male-dominated field, had left her with plenty of resentment. She strove
not to let it embitter her, but it was difficult. Being criticised when you’d done
something wrong was tough, but fair. Not even being given a chance because of
something beyond your control? That was very nearly unbearable. She nodded
solemnly.

“I can see that you understand what I mean. It cannot have been easy for you. But
you have succeeded where many were too weak to even try.

“A new world is emerging now, Fiona. My brothers and I have the opportunity to
reclaim our former glory. We will not hide in the shadows any longer!” A haughty
and defiant look flitted over Vincent’s face, underpinned by anger. Even in that
fleeting moment when his features contorted, he was terribly beautiful.

The flash of emotion had passed, and once again Vincent was calm and handsome.
Fiona tried to imagine the new world he was describing.
He affectionately ran his fingers through her hair, softly, without tugging, and
looked at her longingly for several minutes before he spoke again. Fiona had never
felt so wanted or desirable in all her days.

“I need you, Fiona,” Vincent spoke straight to her soul. “I need a queen to stand
by my side. I will give you the world for your footstool.”

Even through the extreme lassitude, an instinctive shudder emerged. Fiona protested
frailly, “But I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“No, no, no, my dear. I do not want you to be a vampire, either,” he chided her
softly, and she immediately felt childish for expressing such an unfounded fear. “I
want a partner. Someone to rule with me. To champion a new world.”

He was leaning so close to her that she had nowhere to go but back. Even as she
tilted away, he continued to bend forwards. Too late, she realised that she’d ended
up almost lying down, with Vincent above her. Yet although she should have felt
vulnerable and frightened, Fiona couldn’t stop an ecstatic buzz from vibrating
through her.

“I want you to bear the race that will rule the world.”

In her bewildered state, Fiona tried to make sense of what was happening. With
Vincent so close, so attractive, so passionate, she could barely remember to
breathe, let alone string coherent thoughts together.

Vincent lowered his head toward her throat. Although he’d assured her that his
desire for her was as a human, not a vampire, a thrill of fear exploded from the
pit of her stomach to the tips of her toes. She felt nauseatingly weak.

His lips touched her skin and parted, and she felt an electrifying shock. It was so
strong that for a moment she may have blacked out. Her head hummed and her fingers
tingled.

Then Fiona realised that he hadn’t bitten her. He wasn’t going to bite her. Vincent
was fervently kissing her along her collarbone, but he was keeping his teeth
carefully tucked away, lest he scratch her. The intense sensations were due to the
peculiar, yet very pleasurable, vibrations that accompanied every one of his
caresses on her bare skin.
The burst of adrenaline and fear had cleared her mind for a split second, and she
understood that vampires were so inherently seductive to humans, especially women,
because they needed them to mate. She supposed that any given vampire was strong
enough to overpower a woman, but they seemed to delight in attracting women to
them.

Something tugged at her consciousness, and she struggled to ask what had just
occurred to her as an important question.

“Vincent, what happens to the women? After they’re pregnant?”

“Do not fear, Fiona,” he replied between kisses. “The pregnancies are quite brief.”

“But . . . but . . .” Her rational mind had subsided again, overwhelmed by the
sensual stimulus flooding her body. What had been so important to ask?

“I do admit that vampire pregnancies are notoriously difficult,” he spoke lightly,

as if this topic was as banal as the weather. “In the past, many women who realised
belatedly who had impregnated them took steps to end the pregnancy. Or their own
lives. It was quite inconvenient.

“We are fortunate that we live so long, as producing offspring that live to
maturity can take several tries.”

Somewhere in the back of Fiona’s mind, a small part of her was revolted at this
careless use of women. But it was a lone whisper competing against an orchestra of
desire. The rational voice was drowned in the swelling melody that Vincent was
conducting.

Just as she felt that she was about to go inextricably under, a deafening crash
brought her back to full consciousness. A bright light stabbed the gloomy room, and
blinded her eyes that had adjusted to the near-dark.

In the split second before the sunlight overloaded her optic nerve, she had a
terrifying vision of Vincent’s face warped into a snarl. All beauty had bled away,
and he was horror personified. A sizzling sound and an acrid smell filled the room.

Vincent sprang away from her and leapt to the side of the chamber still shrouded in
darkness. A shadow blocked the light that had flooded in through the broken window,
and Fiona’s aching eyes tried to discern the silhouette. It moved away from the
window, crunching on the shards of glass now littering the floor. Her eyes were
overloaded once again as the full force of the sunshine fell on her. The outline
she had glimpsed had appeared familiar.

“Fergus?” she cried.

Chapter 10

Jimmy and Jonathan flew through the underground passage at top speed. As they
approached the door leading into the basement of Pollok House, Jimmy shouted over
his shoulder, “I’ll look for Fiona down here. You get Matt out of bed.”

Relieved that he would be spared poking around the vampires’ den, and
simultaneously sick at the thought of facing zombies upstairs, Jonathan sprinted
toward the main hall.

Utter pandemonium greeted his eyes. Men were running in all directions, with no
apparent order or purpose. Through the doorway to the business room he glimpsed a
few stalwarts who evidently had decided that the best way to go down was drunk.
They were downing shots of hard liquor as fast as they could pour them. Malky had
abandoned his usual place: behind the bar was empty.

Fighting his way through the chaos in the hall, Jonathan grabbed Wullie as he went
past. His eyes were bugging in frantic fear, and he swatted at Jonathan in an
effort to release himself.

“Wullie? What’s going on? I don’t understand.”

“Zombies on the front lawn, that’s what. And more in the park. I’m not sticking
around!”

“But, you’re in charge. All your defences – you had a plan to deal with this! You
were going to pick off the zombies as they struggled through the river! Didn’t the
military prepare you for emergencies?”
Wullie snorted. “Military? I was never in the military. I was a traffic warden
before the world ended.”

Jonathan was wholly flummoxed, until after a moment he realised with a sinking
feeling that Wullie was a parking meter attendant, a law enforcement officer out-
ranked by (and considerably less useful than) a table lamp.

Taking advantage of his surprise, Wullie wrested himself out of Jonathan’s grasp
and ran out of the hall.

A thump at the door overlooking the lawn brought Jonathan back to reality. He
needed to get his brother and get moving, fast. Evidently Pollok House wasn’t being
defended.

A gunshot caused him to revise his opinion. At least one person hadn’t been as
cowardly as Wullie and was attempting to protect the house. Still, Jonathan
suspected it wouldn’t give them much extra time.

He sprang up the spiral staircase to the upper floor, taking the stairs two at a
time. He was nearly dizzy by the time he reached the landing, he’d flown up the
steps so quickly. They’d put Matt in the room at the end of the hall. Jonathan had
noticed an interpretive sign, from the house’s previous life as a museum,
identifying that room as the principle guest room. He’d wondered at the time how
many former guests had been settled in there to sleep off a hangover.

As he sprinted down the hall, something glimpsed through a doorway tugged at the
corner of his mind. It wasn’t until he’d entered Matt’s room that his brain
processed what he’d seen, and he froze in place.

It had been a pair of legs, stretched out almost into the hall.

Holding his breath, Jonathan squatted and peeked quickly round the corner, then
drew his head back in revulsion. He wasn’t sure whose body was stretched out in the
room along the hall, as a cloaked figure was crouched over its head. A vampire, he
presumed.

Evidently the vampires had given up the charade. They had decided to pursue a good
meal and attack the remaining survivors. That was going to complicate getting out
of there.
He stumbled further into the room. Shaking his brother frenetically, Jonathan
whispered to him urgently. “Time to get up, Matty. Quietly, though. Oh, please,
please let your skinny metabolism have gone to work. We need to get out of here.”

Matt came to himself slowly. “Wassup?” he slurred. “I’m sleepin.’” He started to

fall backwards onto the bed.

“No you don’t!” Jonathan grabbed him by the shoulders, and managed to swing him
forward. “C’mon, Matty, we need to go!”

“Wasso important? I’m sleepy.”

“This is!” Jonathan heaved his brother off the bed, and he propelled him toward the
window. At the sight of zombies streaming across the wide lawn, Matt’s eyes
widened, and he straightened up. Jonathan doubted he was sober, but the surge of
adrenaline released by that fearful sight had certainly brought home the
seriousness of their situation.

“There’s a vampire across the hall –,” Jonathan paused and tried to find the right
word, “feeding on someone.

“If we move quickly, we can maybe get out while he’s occupied.”

“I’m not walking past a hungry vampire! He’d just catch us, and have us for his
next course.” Matt trembled.

Jonathan smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “The servants’ stairs!
They’re hidden behind a door in the room across the hall. We’ll use those.”

“The room with the vampire?”

“No, the room next to the vampire. Directly across from us. Let’s go!”

The two brothers crouched in readiness at the entrance, counted silently to three,
and then sprang for the open door on the other side of the hall.
***

“Mr. Murdoch,” Vincent’s tone was cordial, but he couldn’t prevent a tremor of
wrath from shaking his words. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

“Stay away from Fiona,” Fergus’s voice was weak, but his tone was defiant. He
stepped further into the gloom, challenging Vincent, shielding Fiona.

Vincent growled in reply. His lips were pulled back in a snarl. His teeth glinted
dangerously. A red glow suffused his eyes. He dropped all polite pretence.

“You are uninvited in my house. You must leave.”

“Not without Fiona.”

Fiona’s head was spinning. She felt as if she was resurfacing from being held
underwater. Her lungs ached. Her skin felt scorched where Vincent’s lips had
touched her. Her skull pounded relentlessly.

She blinked, repeatedly, still half in a daze. Fiona looked at Vincent

uncomprehendingly. His features were twisted with rage, and his formerly enchanting
eyes glinted red. He looked feline, feral, ferocious. In an instant he had
transformed from prince to monster. How could she have found him so attractive?

And Fergus was back? Her heart lurched within her, desperate to fly across the room
and shelter him with love. Fergus was back, and he was protecting her. Things were
moving too quickly. She could barely keep up.

“There is only one person left on this planet that I love,” Fergus said in a low
voice. It was his voice, his customary tone, but there was a new edge to it. A wild
note wavered within his words as he said, “You will not threaten her. I will kill
you before I let you touch her.”

A cruel smile spread across Vincent’s lips, revealing even more of his pointed
incisors. “You will not kill me. Vampires do not kill one another. It is one of the
most sacred rules of our brotherhood.”
“Try me.”

“Fergus, I know these first days can be trying,” Vincent switched back into his
charming persona. “Much has happened to you. You have questions.” He gestured
magnanimously. “I have answers. I can help you.”

“I’ve had enough of your help, thanks.”

Vincent stepped forward, in Fiona’s direction.

Fergus bristled, and replied with a warning rumble deep in his throat. A flicker of
doubt alighted momentarily in Vincent’s eyes. It was the first crack in his self-
assured shield that Fiona had ever seen.

“Fergus, you need guidance,” Vincent spoke with a sense of urgency. “If you should
harm one of your brothers, you will excommunicate yourself from the brotherhood. It
is an unforgiveable sin.”

“Brotherhood be damned.”

Fiona knew she loved Fergus, no matter what form he was in. But she was wary. He
was unpredictable. He twitched unsystematically, as if an internal battle was
raging and it was all he could do to hold himself together.

They were interrupted by a terrific crash as the door burst into pieces. Jimmy
McConnell flew backward into the room, swiftly pursued by two vampires.

One of the vampires sniffed and turned toward Fiona, hunger-lust burning in his
eyes.

“Leave her! She has been chosen,” Vincent’s imperious command stopped him in his
tracks.

All attention in the room was suddenly brought to a focal point by a high-pitched
scream. Fiona looked for the source of the noise, and then she looked quickly away.
It was to be another sight burnt into her memory that she’d rather never have
witnessed.

Fergus held a vampire’s head. It dangled from his hand as he clutched its hair. A
few feet away, Jimmy was kicking its decapitated body off of him.

Both Vincent and the other vampire froze in disbelief. Fiona hadn’t thought that
Vincent’s facial muscles knew how to assume a surprised expression, but right now
they expressed utter astonishment.

In two strides, Fergus had intercepted the vampire that had started toward Fiona.
With a sickened feeling, she backed into the sofa and curled up in a ball, closing
her eyes and shielding her ears. She hummed a tune to herself, certain that she
wouldn’t want to hear what was about to happen.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.”

“Fiona?”

“You make me happy –”

“Fiona, it’s okay.” Jimmy gently pulled her hands away from her ears. “It’s over.”

Fiona forced herself to look at Jimmy, and Jimmy only. He looked battered, but he
was smiling. Her peripheral vision took in Fergus standing quietly in the
background, two bodies lying at his feet. No one else seemed to be in the room with
them.

“Wh – Where’s Vincent?”

Jimmy smiled broadly at Fergus. “He sure scarpered quick when he saw you take out
those other vampires.”

Fergus smiled grimly in return. “He realised that I don’t play by his rules. I’ll
kill him, and anyone else who threatens those I love.”
“Jimmy!” A shout echoed down the hall.

“Jonathan!” Jimmy shouted in reply. “In here! Did you get Matt?”

The brothers appeared at the door, Jonathan holding Matt firmly by the elbow.

“Fergus!” Matt’s mouth hung open comically. “You look a little pale.”

“I’ve felt better,” Fergus replied, with a shadow of his former smile. He
unconsciously ran a hand along the tops of his shoulders. Matt wondered why there
was smoke curling off his back.

“Upstairs is a mess,” Jonathan reported. “If the zombies aren’t in already, they
will be soon. We need to move.”

“The tunnel,” Jimmy said, as he lifted Fiona gently to her feet. He bent over to
recover his shotgun from the ground.

“The what?” Fiona had regained a fraction of her usual spirit. “What tunnel?”

“Out to the stables,” Jonathan explained as he steered Matt in the right direction.
“That’s a great idea, Jimmy. It’ll give us some space between the house and the
zombies before we get above ground.”

The quartet started down the hall, but suddenly Fiona stopped and planted her feet.

“Fergus.”

He stared at her intently from inside the ruins of Vincent’s lair. “I can’t go with
you, Fee.”

“Like hell you can’t.”

“I’m a vampire now.”

“I don’t care.”

“I pose a threat to you.”

“If I’m not mistaken, you just saved me from a fate worse than death.”

“You saved my life, too,” Jimmy interjected.

Jonathan continued to steer Matt down the hall. He was still stumbling from time to
time. Jonathan fervently hoped that the others would sort out their differences
quickly, but he wasn’t going to stand around with them discussing it while a battle
raged only a floor away. Not to mention the fact that they were in the middle of
the vampires’ quarters. Not somewhere he wanted to remain.

As they passed the entrance that led upstairs, Jonathan caught a glimpse of splayed
bodies, cloaked forms bent over them, feeding at the neck. Yes, definitely time to
get out of Pollock House.

Fiona crossed her arms defiantly. “If you stay, I stay.”

“Fiona, don’t be foolish,” Fergus replied.

“Fergus, please?” This plea came, not from Fiona, but from Jimmy. He was anxious to
exit the war zone, too. He didn’t think this was the time, nor the place, for
debate.

Uncertainly, Fergus stepped forward. Fiona reached out and took his hand. She
gasped as a familiar icy tingle spread over her skin. His touch awakened the other
nerves that Vincent had touched, and her neck prickled. Dipping her head to hide a
shamed blush, she strode resolutely after the Canadians.

Jimmy followed behind Fergus and Fiona. As he passed the entrance to the servants’
stairs, a figure flung herself from the doorway and bowled Jimmy over.
Faster than she could blink, Fergus had let go of Fiona’s hand and was tearing the
zombie away from Jimmy. He threw her against the far wall. She bounced off it and
hit the ground running, coming straight back at Jimmy.

He evenly raised his shotgun with the broken handle and fired into her face,
removing her head, and the immediate threat.

“Thanks again, mate,” Jimmy said to Fergus.

Fergus nodded in reply. “Let’s boost.” After Jimmy had turned away, Fergus’s legs
buckled. He wobbled slightly, and then supported himself by leaning on the wall.
With a great effort, he stood upright and followed his companions before they
noticed anything was amiss.

They entered the tunnel at a quick jog, and paused briefly to pile a few beams
against the inside of the door. Hopefully that would buy them precious moments if
more zombies were flooding down the stairs.

Matt seemed to realise that they were leaving the battlefield. He blinked and
looked about him at the rough tunnel.

“Where are we going?”

“Away from Pollok House, and the zombies and vampires,” Jonathan replied, keeping
his brother moving.

“Why do you think the zombies attacked?”

“Pardon?”

“Like, do you think the zombies figured out that there were humans to eat in Pollok
House? Or do you think they wanted to eradicate the vampires?”

“I dunno, mate. Do you want to go back and find out?” Jimmy asked.
Matt seemed to consider his options for a moment, then he replied in the
unconcerned way only a drunk can, “Nah, I’ll stick with you guys.”

They had reached the other end of the tunnel. Jonathan hesitated inside the door.

“Let’s go this way,” Jimmy suggested, taking a different route to the one they’d
used earlier. He was as eager as Jonathan was to avoid seeing the pregnant women
again.

Jonathan followed with a sigh of relief. “You know, there should be a vehicle or
two parked not far from the stables. Some of the guys and I used to race them a
little bit. Wullie didn’t know.”

He fell quiet at the thought of his last encounter with Wullie, where all his
authoritative bluff had been replaced by panic and cowardice.

“Genius, Jon!” Fiona exclaimed. “Lead the way.”

Then she had another thought. “How are you going to handle the sunlight, Fergus?”

He stooped and scooped up a dust sheet lying on the ground. “If I stay covered
over, I should be okay.” He smiled bravely, but as Fiona turned away, Jimmy noticed
that he was trembling.

Falling into organising mode, Fiona thought out loud as they exited the stables and
bundled into the Jeep that Jonathan had used as his racer. “We should be relatively
safe as long as we’re moving and out in the open during the day. But night will
fall soon, so we need to find a place we can secure against zombies and defend from
vampires.”

“There’s one more thing,” Jimmy added, glancing at Fergus, who was increasingly
pale.

“What’s that?”
“We need to find a source of blood.”