The website was careful not to mention any protestors by name, focusing instead on the ‘government lackeys’, ‘council bullshitters’ and ‘pro-road scum’, but there was a handy generic email link at the bottom of the page. I dug inside myself, allowing my bloodfire to well up in empathetic antagonism, then fired off a lengthy and passionate email regarding the tragic situation of the imaginary bats of Haughmond Hill. I felt slightly guilty at the lie, but it was not as if the fact of the development was a lie, more that there probably weren’t any bats. I couldn’t know that for sure though. There might be some there. Hoping that I’d hit the right note with the campaigners, I then continued searching, finding four other nearby groups and three other websites where I was also able to post various messages under different pseudonyms about the immediate need to halt this ‘catastrophic’ development. I knew that it wouldn’t be that easy to get the environmentalists on my side; if it was then the dryads could probably have sorted it out themselves. They might not have their own wifi access in their tree habitats, but they obviously weren’t without their own resources. Besides, Atlanteia had already said that their usual efforts weren’t working. I doubted she’d have been so concerned if there wasn’t something, if not supernatural, then at the very least nefarious, also involved. However it got the ball rolling at least and gave me a few ideas as to how these protest groups operated.

With that accomplished, I logged onto my own email to check to see whether Alex had sent in any updates yet. There was nothing. It was probably too soon. I hoped that he was at the very least outside the shop by now. Its mysterious owner who had Balud so concerned was going to be more likely to show up now that night had fallen, much like many Otherworlders would, if he really was trying to keep his identity a secret. The cover of darkness could hide a multitude of sins.

I was tempted to venture onto the Othernet, just to see whether or not there happened to be any pap photos of Corrigan with the dark haired shifter who I’d spotted him with before. He’d said she wasn’t his girlfriend – or at least that he didn’t have a girlfriend anyway – but that didn’t mean I didn’t still want to know exactly who she was. However, an announcement came over the tannoy that we were pulling into Birmingham, so I snapped the laptop shut and roughly prodded Aubrey awake instead. He was grumpy and appeared to have somehow lost the power to form coherent sentences, but he managed to disembark and stumble along beside me towards the next platform so we could change trains. As soon as he sat down again, he fell instantly back asleep, his head lolling dangerously towards my shoulder and a small trickle of drool making its way down his chin.

I watched him for a few minutes before pushing him back upright again to prevent him from using me as pillow. He jerked his head away from me with a phlegmy snort, but then almost immediately started drooping towards my apparently comfortable shoulder yet again. I rolled my eyes, and tried to inch away from him. It didn’t work. Eventually, giving up, I left him alone, ignoring the heavy weight of his head as it landed yet again on top of me. It was a losing battle anyway. I reached back down into my plastic bag and pulled out the vampire book I’d brought along and flipped through the pages. Thanks to Aubrey’s inadvertent transformation I no longer need to exact any sort of revenge on the vamps. It didn’t hurt to know as much about them as I possibly could of course. Unfortunately, the most it seemed to say about curing vampirism was that it was impossible. That was clearly a falsehood so I probably couldn’t trust anything the book said at all.

I leaned back in my seat, ignoring Aubrey’s muttered protestations as my movements jolted his head and pondered the entire situation. One of the things that Iabartu, the demi-goddess who had set my exile from the pack into motion, had said about my blood was that it could be used to control others. I wondered whether I could make Aubrey to do what I wanted him to now. I flicked him a quick glance. That didn’t seem to be the case so far. I couldn’t even prevent him from falling asleep on top of me. I frowned as my thoughts drifted further. According to legend, Draco Wyr blood also had potential healing properties, although I hadn’t ever tested that theory, despite coming close when Corrigan had red fever, normally fatal to shifters. I chewed my bottom lip. If my blood cured Aubrey, so to speak, could it cure cancer too? How about AIDS? If I’d given some to Julia when she was attacked back in Cornwall would her leg have been able to re-attach itself? What about if I gave her some now? It had to have some pretty fucking strong healing power if it could eliminate whatever it was that made Aubrey an undead being of the night. Bloody hell. Did that mean it could bring people back from the dead? Images of John, Thomas and Brock flitted rapidly through my head, one after the other.

No. It wouldn’t be right; as much as I wished they were still alive and as much as I regretted the circumstances of all their deaths, even trying to bring them back, regardless of success, would surely upset the balance of nature. I wasn’t prepared to give myself the power of life and death. Nobody should be allowed that kind of strength. It might be worth testing out the curative element, however. That didn’t seem quite so wrong.

I was still mulling over the possibilities when we pulled into Shrewsbury. I shook Aubrey awake, then got off the train with him trailing in my wake. The station was well lit, with a row of taxis waiting outside. We clambered into one, directing the driver to the outskirts of the town. I didn’t want to broadcast our destination quite just yet, so told him to drop us off at a farmhouse I’d spotted on the map beforehand that wasn’t too far away. Aubrey stayed quiet.

I looked over at him, thoughtfully. “Aubrey, touch your nose with your index finger.”

He seemed confused, but did what I asked. I raised my eyebrows. Maybe I could control him.

“Is this some other human thing?” he inquired “Like the tastebuds?”

I jerked my head at the taxi driver in the front, silently warning Aubrey to watch what he said. Okay, perhaps I couldn’t control him. He’d probably just followed my instructions because he thought it was a new and exciting human experience. I frowned. There was still something about that bothered me though.

I waited until we’d been deposited in front of the dark and silent farmhouse, with the driver already disappearing off into the distance, before I spoke again.

“You were human once. You must have been, what, thirty when you were originally became a vamp?”

His mouth turned in disgust. “Please. Twenty-nine.”

“So you know what stuff tastes like. You know that touching your sodding nose isn’t some human thing.”

“You don’t get it,” he said patiently, “once you are turned, everything else prior to that fades into complete insignificance. I can barely remember my life before then. Once you are attuned to the susurration of blood, to the iron rich succulent density of it, nothing else is important.” He licked his lips.

My stomach turned. “How many people have you killed?”

“I take it by people, you mean humans?”

I nodded.

“Not that many. Most deaths are by accident really. The average person has ten pints of blood in their system and can lose up to four pints of that before any real damage is done.” He shot me a sly look. “How would you feel if you drank four pints of beer? Would you be satisfied?”

“I guess,” I said doubtfully. I’d drunk more than that more than once in the past.

“It’s possible to drink more. Nobody needs to, but sometimes we do.” He shrugged. “It’s not a great idea to leave bodies all the over place though. Especially with the availability of modern post-mortems. We try and avoid it.”

“But you have killed people?” I prodded.

“Haven’t you?”

“No!”

“You’ve killed Otherworld creatures.”

“Yes, but…” my voice fell away.

“They’re not human.”

“No,” I protested. “It’s got nothing to do with the fact that they’re not human, it’s to do with the fact that when I kill them they are trying to kill me. Or someone else. It’s about protection. I’m not a fucking psychopath.”

“You already told me you had anger management issues,” he pointed out. “I think that might make you more of a potential homicidal maniac than me.”

“I have fucking emotions. I feel guilt and remorse and pain and pity. Bloodsuckers don’t.”

He cocked his head slightly in agreement. “You’re right. I must admit that having feelings again is proving to be somewhat difficult.” Aubrey blinked, his eyes suddenly welling up. “I miss it so much. Not having to think so much or worry so much. I don’t know how you do this all the time. It’s so difficult, Mack.” He sniffed loudly then wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Jeez. Soulless Aubrey might have been a prick, but this version had the potential to be even more annoying. He wasn’t wrong about the emotions part though. In the past few hours he’d covered a hell a lot of them – and all were at the extreme end of the scale. It was like he was some stereotypically over the top pre-menstrual teenager. I shook my head.

“Come on then.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“You’re so wonderful letting me come with you, Mack. Just so…”

I jabbed him in the chest. “Shut the fuck up.”

His mouth snapped closed and he blinked in acknowledgement. That was bloody better.

It was about three miles to Haughmond Hill from where we were, first along the tarmacked road and then a right turn up a trail. Now that I was away from the city and back out in the countryside, the pathetic figure of Aubrey at my heels notwithstanding, I felt my soul lighten. In this kind of environment I was much more at home. It was easier to track noises and register the presence of others; in the city with all the constant noise it was virtually impossible. Right now, I knew that the only people in the vicinity were Aubrey and myself. Here, I was in control. There would be no sneaking up on me from behind, no sudden creatures appearing above me without my knowledge, no Otherworld inhabitants getting the jump on me…