‘We shouldn’t have come,’ said Jon.

The crypt under the church was dark, but a security light glowed on the vault-shaped ceiling, illuminating two large, rather fearsome family memorials with grinning gargoyles at the top of the columns. There was a smell of shut-in dust and decay.

‘We’ll be OK,’ Jodie was scoffing. ‘Don’t be so chicken. The warden’s dead from the neck up.’

‘That’s what worries me,’ Jon replied defensively. ‘He looks like an off-duty vampire.’

Some of the others mumbled assent. They were all feeling uneasy, not knowing how to handle the situation. It had been Jodie who had dared them to leave the cosy safety of the youth hostel in the converted church and explore the crypt. The coast had been clear, as the warden and his wife were in their own quarters.

It was the dead of winter and the snow was gently falling outside in the city streets.

‘Maybe we’ll get snowed up and be in this place for days,’ said Tom.

Jon shivered. ‘How long are we going to be down here?’

‘As long as it takes,’ muttered Jodie.

‘What does that mean?’

‘As long as we dare,’ She rounded on them. ‘First one who goes back to the dormitory is a coward.’

No one moved, but their eyes shifted anxiously along the sombre plaques naming countless dead, to the darkened statues in the gloomy side-chapel – statues that looked as if they might come alive at any moment.

‘What shall we do then?’ asked Abby.

‘We’ll stay until dawn,’ replied Jodie challengingly. ‘And we’ll tell stories.’

‘What kind of stories?’

‘How about vampire stories?’ said Colin, fearfully looking round at the tombs. ‘I bet this place is full of vampires.’

‘Real-life vampires!’ said Jodie. ‘I’ve got one to tell first.’

Uneasily, the others sat down on the stone floor in front of the largest memorial of all.

‘Anyone remember Tony Blake?’ asked Jodie. ‘That boy who left school to go to his parents’ new sheep farm in Northumberland? He told me a really weird story before he went.’