Someone who looked like that would need to hide, and stay hidden. And if there were a group of them, they would need a cover story to explain their reluctance to be seen in public. And they would need servants who would have to be fed that cover story, and who would swallow it. The servants would be in daily contact with them, and would eventually have to see them as they were. What kind of cover story could render the horror of a collection of crumbling vampires normal? Well, maybe not normal, but believable. And maybe even pitiable, so it would be frowned upon to talk about them too much. Hmmm.

"Phone."

Mark grabbed it off the dash, and handed it to me. I dialled Fergus again, switched on the speakerphone function, and handed the phone to Mark. He held it obediently.

Two rings and Fergus answered. "Got your arsenal, brother. It's on its way as we speak."

"Thanks."

"Estate's yours too. Housekeepers' sorting it out now. I think she's even going to make you supper. She'll leave it in the fridge, of course. You'll have the place to yourself when you get there. We're diverting to Glasgow airport. Well be arriving at the estate sometime around midnight."

"Fergus, we need to consider the possibility that these vampires aren't living in complete isolation. They could be blending in under some kind of believable cover story. I want you to locate private hospices, especially those dealing with rare diseases."

"Right."

"And look for unexplained violent or animal related deaths around one hundred plus years ago. Transport wouldn't have been as good, so that kind of search will probably reveal more of their whereabouts than a more recent one."

"Tricky."

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"Yeah, but you're good at tricky."

"Thanks, brother. Later."

Rebecca

Iron, hmmm. I'd left the iron tablets behind that Angus had given me. Even if I had them, say, in a pocket, there was no way I could open that tub and take some out and swallow them with my hands tied behind my back. And even if these guys untied me, they'd never sit by and let me swallow a bunch of tablets. They would want me alive and conscious for what they were planning, I bet. Whatever that was. I tried not to think of it, but concentrated on my plan.

There was no help for it. I would have to bite the neck of one of these guys. And drink their blood. The decision didn't repulse me as much as it probably should have.




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