LITMIR.BIZ

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took the left-hand side, McBride the right; they checked the bodies that were strewn across the cobbled streets, shouted into houses and listened for any response, followed trails of red that led to atrocity after atrocity. Jamie felt light-headed, as though he might faint, but he persevered; door after door, victim after victim.

      Near the top of the hill he heard music emanating from a house, a classical piano piece he was sure he recognised, and followed it to a house set back from the road. He checked the woman who was lying on the path outside the front door, and moved on, past a house that stood open to the night, a rectangle of warm yellow light glowing out on to the street.

      At the top of the hill, where the houses curved round to meet the top of the street that Morris and Stevenson were making their way up, he stood with McBride in the middle of the road.

      “Nothing?” asked Jamie.

      “Nothing,” confirmed McBride, pushing his visor up. His face was pale and drawn tightly, as though it had been stretched. “You?”

      “Nothing.”

      Then they heard a high wavering cry behind them, where the road ended and the thick woods that covered the heart of the island began, and Jamie and McBride turned and ran towards it.

      They crashed through the undergrowth, snapping twigs beneath their heavy boots as branches whipped against their visors, running between dark trunks and over banks of earth and ridges of shrubs. They got turned round; the trees were dense, and the darkness was thick. The cry came again, but it sounded like it was all around them, like a hundred voices crying in unison. Then suddenly Larissa was next to them, grabbing their hands and lifting them into the air.

      She soared between the trees, banking effortlessly left and right, holding Jamie and McBride beneath her as though they were weightless. They came to a clearing, and she swooped down and released them; they hit the ground rolling and came up pointing their T-Bones into the middle of the clearing, where a man in his twenties was squirming in the grip of a vampire woman who could have been no more than twenty herself. She had the man’s arms pinned behind his back, and was stroking his throat with the long fingernails of her right hand; she either didn’t notice the appearance of the two black-clad figures, or didn’t care.

      Jamie levelled his T-Bone, and shouted ‘Hey!’ at the same moment as he pulled the trigger. The vampire dropped the man and reared up, snarling, to her feet. The projectile took her in the middle of the chest, punching a hole through the white vest she was wearing, sending blood gushing into the air. A second later she exploded, sending a spiral column of crimson into the sky. It pattered to the ground, coating the grass.

      Jamie and McBride stood up and walked over to the man, who was cowering on the ground, soaked with blood. He looked up at the two men as they approached him, his eyes wide with terror, and backed away, pushing himself backwards with his hands, his feet digging long furrows in the grass. A thick trail of something dark covered the ground where he had been sitting, and McBride swore loudly.

      “He’s bleeding,” he said. “Grab him, Jamie.”

      Jamie strode forward and scooped the man up from the damp grass. His hands slid into something wet; the man screamed, and Jamie almost dropped him. He stumbled, threw the man’s arm around his shoulders, and ran with him back to where McBride was standing. He lay him down; the Operator flipped him gently over, then recoiled.

      There was a wide hole high on the man’s back, a deep conical wound covered in dirt and flecked with tiny chips of wood.

      “Probably a branch,” said McBride. “Turn him over.”

      Jamie did as he was told, rolling the injured man on to his back as carefully as he was able. McBride laid his head on the narrow chest, listened for several seconds, then pushed himself back up to his knees, a helpless look on his face.

      “There’s blood in his lungs,” he said, in a low voice. “There’s nothing I can do for him. He needs a hospital, right away.”

      A terrible sensation of being trapped swept through Jamie.

       It’s this man or your mother. You know that’s the truth. If you take him to the mainland, your mother will be dead by the time you get back here.

      The wounded man spared him the decision.

      He looked up at the two men with terrified eyes, his chest rattling up and down as he took shallow panic breaths. Then his heart gave out, and he died of shock in Jamie’s arms.

      “Jesus,” whispered McBride, then lowered his head and crossed himself.

      Jamie just stared at the man. His last moments on earth had been full of pain and fear, and he had done nothing to deserve it, except be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

       You did this. Alexandru did this because you tried to find him.

      A great wracking sob escaped from Jamie’s mouth. Behind the purple visor, tears spilled down his cheeks and dripped on to his Blacklight uniform.

       It’s your fault. It’s all your fault.

      He slumped on to the grass, and lowered his head to his chest. It felt heavy, too heavy for him to go on. He was suddenly more tired than he had ever been in his life, and he fell backwards, towards the cool grass.

      He didn’t get there. Two hands caught him lightly under his shoulders, pulled him up to his feet, and turned him round. Larissa was looking at him with an expression of absolute anguish. Then she reached up, lifted the helmet from his head, and kissed him, tenderly.

      Jamie kissed her back, acting on pure instinct. The dead man lay behind him, McBride was weeping gently on his knees beside him, and he kissed her, sure that he would go mad if he didn’t find a way to feel something.

      She gently pulled away, and looked at him.

      “You won’t give up,” she said. “I won’t let you.”

      Jamie looked inside himself, and saw that she was right. He would not give up; he would see this nightmare through to its conclusion, even if it meant his death. He owed it to everyone whose lives Alexandru had ended before their time.

      He gave her a weak smile, and she returned it. Then he reached down, pulled McBride up by his shoulders, and looked the Operator in the eyes.

      “We go on,” he said, as firmly as he was able, then gestured towards the man lying on the grass. “We finish this. For him, and for all the others.”

      McBride looked at him, his eyes red.

      “Yes, sir,” he said.

      Larissa floated back into the air, promising to keep watch. Jamie and McBride were about to make their way back towards the road, to where Morris and Stevenson would be waiting for them, when McBride suddenly stiffened.

      “Someone’s watching us,” he whispered. “Don’t look. Your three o’clock. Behind the tree.”

      Jamie waited five seconds, then slowly, ever so slowly, turned his head in the direction McBride had indicated. At first he saw nothing, just the black outlines of the trees. Then as his eyes focused on the spot, he saw the pale face of a girl staring at them. He turned back to McBride, just as slowly.

      “It’s a girl,” he whispered.

      The Operator nodded. “What do we do?” Jamie asked.

      McBride said nothing. Then he shouted across the clearing, in a calm, even voice.

      “We are not going to hurt you,” he said. “Come out. I repeat. We are not going to hurt you.”

      There was no movement from the edge of the clearing. The girl didn’t appear, but nor did they hear the burst of noise that meant she had run.

      McBride turned to face the spot where the girl was hiding, and motioned for Jamie to do the same. He placed his T-Bone on the ground, and held his empty hands out for her to see. Jamie followed his companion’s lead, placing his weapon carefully

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