4

A blizzard had blown in, worse than expected. Sleety snow darted across the beam of Esther's headtorch. Visibility was so low she might have been in her own personal snowstorm. They would never find Doug unless he spotted them and was able to respond. Or unless they stumbled across him. Or his body

'We need to do this more systematically,' shouted Bird. 'Get better equipped.' He approached Esther through the mauve-grey gloom, flakes slashing across the halogen ball encircling him.

'OK,' yelled Esther, knowing he was right. 'Just a couple more minutes.'

She felt guilty and afraid. Guilty because of the situation between her and Doug. She'd rejected him the day after they'd had sex, and he probably wasn't in a fit state to take such mixed messages. She hadn't realised how vulnerable he was, mentally and emotionally, and would have been more cautious if she'd spotted it.

Afraid because there was something out there, a green-eyed creature that moved faster than anything earthly. Whatever it was, it had left no prints to identify, just a few smudges in the snow by the window. Doug had dismissed them as nothing but evidence of a small mammal or a bird.

He didn't believe Esther had seen something, that much was obvious. How infuriating. If he thought she was a woman who'd use damsel in distress tactics to defend herself, he didn't know her at all. She generally preferred to make herself clear and if language failed, Esther was perfectly capable of demonstrating her meaning with a knee in the groin. Unfortunately, Esther wasn't clear about what she needed to be clear about, hence the mess.

'Come on, Essie! Adrian!' hollered Bird. 'Back inside.'

In the quieter cabin, the white lanterns glowed softly. Johannes paced in the small space while Margret clutched her satellite phone, its thick antenna extended.

'Nothing,' announced Esther, stamping snow from her boots.

'I can't get through to anyone,' said Margret.

'We will try,' said Johannes. 'Margret and I.'

'Whoa, hang fire! Let's think this through,' said Bird. 'No point us walking over each other's paths. He can't have gone far. My guess is he's injured. We need to draw up a plan, grab some food and get a couple of skidoos out. We need to keep trying to get through to base, keep them informed. Schedule's off for the next few days. If we find him, he's going to be in no state to keep going. We can't get a 'copter out in this. Esther, stay here in case he comes back.'

'Bird,' said Esther. 'I don't think I'm the best person to be waiting for him.'

'Essie, you are,' said Bird. 'I'm not arguing. If it helps, I don't imagine he'll be coming back anyway. Not on his own, at least.'

Fifteen minutes later, the four of them were gone. Esther tried and failed to contact HO, washed the pots from their breakfast of porridge and cranberries, and melted some ice on the stove for tea. Using fuel for one person seemed decadent and wasteful but if Doug came back, he'd need the heat. When Doug came back, when.

The slightest sound unnerved Esther: the whistle of wind through the log walls, the rattle of a door or the creak of wood from the cabin and outbuildings. Last night, she'd been convinced she'd seen a face at the window but now she wasn't so sure. Bird said it could have been someone else passing by. After all, they were on an old mushers' trail so it wasn't too far-fetched. But there were no marks in the snow.

A reflection, suggested Adrian. He had a point. A weak aurora borealis had been playing across the sky, a pale-green gossamer scarf, slow and balletic. Maybe that had cast a freaky light.

Esther began to think she'd imagined it. And she'd had such strange dreams in the night, a jumbled narrative that had left her with a head full of images: a peacock and a pink fountain; veiled women and turba-ned men; a river bobbing with fishing boats; and a man with bright-green eyes who had such beauty and presence that she'd woken up wet, her lust spiked with loneliness and need, the intensity of which she'd never felt before. It had left her on the brink of tears.

She'd stayed in her sleeping bag, waiting for the others to wake up. To her shame, the discovery Doug was missing was close to relief. The panic snatched her right out of her pain.

She made tea and sat at the table, waiting. Bird was right: he couldn't have gone far. But, depending on his clothing, if he was injured he couldn't survive in subzero temperatures for long.

This was Esther's third major expedition. Once, two team members suffering from extreme frostbite had to be airlifted out but Esther hadn't experienced any major dramas. However, the threat was always there. If it weren't, there would be no challenge, no reason to do this, no glory in the final achievement.

Esther sometimes wondered what she would do if she didn't have the ice. She'd been on skis almost as soon as she could walk, her parents instilling her with a sense of adventure and wonder. The Arctic transformed her. She loved being here. It was both tranquil and savage, and, thanks to climate change, so momentary and fragile, a bubble about to burst. The sea ice was melting, coastal villages were under threat, livelihoods were at risk, polar bears could vanish.

Oh, where the hell was Doug?

Esther connected her palm-top to the satphone, thinking she might upload her blog, then realised she was being stupid. Comms were down. Last night's dream was muddling her brain. She was in half a mind to blog about the dream and was wondering who might read it when she heard a noise outside.

'Hello! He – ello?'

It was male and her first thought was Doug, even though it wasn't his voice. She hurried to the cabin door, thinking Bird or Adrian, although it didn't sound like them either. There was no German accent so that ruled out Johannes.

'Hello?' The voice was right at the door. Esther flung it open and a blizzard of snow whirled into the cabin. In the midst of the flurry, on skis, was a tall figure in a black ski suit, face concealed by a balaclava and visor, head haloed in almost a foot of grey fur.

'Hi!' he called, tipping up a ski pole in greeting. 'Mind if I come in.'

Esther was already ushering him in because in these conditions you don't ask for ID. The man stepped out of his skis and clomped in, his equipment clattering as he stood it in a corner. Esther slammed the door against the storm.

'Phew!' he said, and he quickly pulled off his headgear and visor. Sleek black hair spilt from his balaclava, and his dark eyebrows, as shapely and elegant as his finely-boned face, contrasted with his pasty complexion. When he raised his head to smile, Esther was startled to note he had one perfectly ordinary blue eye while the other was violet. It wasn't violet in the way Elizabeth Taylor's eyes were said to be violet. A better description might be bright purple.

'Are you OK?' asked Esther, alarmed. 'Where's your party? Or are you alone? A member of our team's missing. Have you –'

'Simeon,' said the man. He gestured with a gloved hand. 'I'm with a friend. We got separated. Silly fools. We're on a sponsored ski.'

Esther frowned, puzzled by too much. He was so pale he might not have seen the sun for months which was understandable if he'd been out here a while. But was that possible? He looked too delicate to be battling an Arctic winter.

'We're heading north,' continued the man. 'For the pole. We're raising money. For the, um, Haemophiliac Awareness Trust. And you are?'

'Esther,' said Esther, still staring at those eyes, one purple, one blue.

Simeon smiled broadly. His teeth were white and strong. 'What a pretty name,' he said. 'Esther.'

He removed his gloves and tossed them onto the table. 'How you doing, Esther?'

'I'm fine, thanks.'

'You're English, right?'

Esther felt slightly dazed. 'Yes,' she said. 'I am.'

'Listen, we found your friend. He's OK. My partner, my team-mate, he's bringing him.'

Esther snapped to attention. 'Where?' she demanded. 'We have to go to them. Where are they? How is he? Does he need medical attention? I can try to contact my team and they can –'

'Hey, don't panic,' said Simeon. 'He's cool, man. Just lost a bit of blood. Are you alone here?'

'Yes,' replied Esther, and she felt threatened by the question, remembering the face at the window and its luminous green eyes. 'Yes, I'm alone.'

That violet eye did something strange to her. When she looked at it, fragments of last night's dream swirled in her mind: the pink fountain, the veiled women, the man who'd left her wet with longing. She could vaguely recall giving him a blow job. The face at the window must have turned up in her sleep but his presence seemed more than a residue of the day's events. She felt connected to him and she guessed, from her layman's knowledge of dream analysis, he represented someone or something else, perhaps an ex-boyfriend or a yearning for home.

She turned away from Simeon's eye but it was a struggle because she wanted to stay in the emotions of the dirty dream. Maybe this was what Doug had been suffering from, a viral infection that induced mildly hallucinogenic states and an excess of desire.

'Where's your friend?' asked Esther, and the question seemed to carry more weight than she felt it ought. 'What happened to Doug. Are they far away? I've been struggling with sats and radio the last half hour. Maybe it's the blizzard. Do you –'

'Billy will be along shortly,' Simeon said confidently. He unzipped his ski suit and stripped down to thinner layers.

Esther began to worry. 'Aren't you cold?'

Simon pinched his black sweat-top. 'We're trialling new techno fabrics. Intelligent clothing. This is their thinnest yet. It's revolutionary. How many humans – people – in your team?'

'Six,' said Esther. 'Four are out there looking for Doug. I'm sure they'll be back any moment.' Esther didn't think it was true. They'd still be searching for Doug, not knowing he'd been found.

She felt she ought to be asking more questions and enquiring about Doug but all she wanted was to wallow in the soft trippy strangeness aroused by the coloured eye.

'My friend and I,' said Simeon. 'While we've been travelling, we've had this weird sense of something out there, something on the ice that's watching us.' He took a step closer. 'Do you guys ever get that?'

'Yes!' said Esther. 'Well, maybe me more than the others but I have had a sense of ... of something.'

'Doesn't it bother you being alone here?' asked Simeon. 'In this little cabin?' He took another step closer, his rangy limbs slinky and reptilian.

Esther shrugged, standing her ground. 'I'm made of tougher stuff than that. Anyway, we have to find Doug. That's our priority right now.'

The man tilted his head and scrutinised Esther, lips twisting in a come-hither sneer. 'You're cute,' he said. 'Do you have a boyfriend?'

'Your eye,' said Esther. 'Why's it like that? Why is it purple?'

Simeon looked caught out. 'Ah,' he said. 'Contact lens. Must've lost one. 'Scuse me.'

He tipped his head down, and his thin white fingers fluttered briefly over the blue eye. When he lifted his head, both eyes were violet, shining with the translu-cency of gemstones. Esther didn't know if he'd added a lens or removed one. She was feeling somewhat detached, bizarrely attracted to this man whose skin wasn't pinched and raw, who didn't cough or wheeze, and whose haughty porcelain face was completely free of sores. He looked as if the cold had never touched him.

'Boyfriend?' asked the man again.

'No,' said Esther. 'I don't really have time.'

Simeon slunk closer still and stroked her jaw with long gentle fingers. Esther's groin flushed as if he'd touched her in a much sexier way.

'What are you doing?' she asked dazedly.

'Checking you out,' Simeon said in a new brisk voice.

With both hands, he tugged down the polo-neck of her sweater. For several seconds he examined her bared neck until Esther, worried, began backing away. Smirking, Simeon followed, a swagger in his lean hips, until she was pressed against the ridges of the log wall at the foot of the bunks.

'What is this?' asked Esther.

'Lust,' said Simeon and he unzipped her fleece with one swift pull. 'Dirty, greedy fuck lust. Blood lust. Lust for hot little whores called Esther.'

'No,' breathed Esther. Her heart thumped as the extent of her stupidity struck her. His talk of rescuing Doug was a con, of course it was. For miles, they were the only ones around, just her and him in a shed on the ice. Esther's sudden sense of solitude was so acute she wondered if this was how people felt when death was due.

'Yes,' Simeon said crisply. He groped her breasts through her layer of thermals and ground his big swollen crotch against her. 'And she's all alone on the icecap.'

'They'll come back,' said Esther. She pushed against him but she was weak in body and mind, all her training for the expedition disintegrating. He made her feeble and reckless. He was dangerous, she knew that, and though reason told her to resist, a stronger compulsion urged her to give it all up.

Simeon fiddled with the fastenings on her insulated trousers and, when he pushed his hand down the front of them, Esther was practically boneless with lust, with that dirty greedy fuck lust he'd suddenly inspired.

'Oh my God,' she breathed as his fingers drove right inside her, and her defences were gone.

He smiled at her, those violet eyes making her brain dance as his fingers made her sex churn. 'Good?' he asked smugly. 'Want to suck my cock?'

Esther whimpered an affirmative. She was all his, and he was doing something magical to her – truly magical because, despite her clothes being awry, she didn't feel cold. In fact, she felt more comfortable than she had done since arriving. It didn't make sense, and yet it was all OK.

'My big hard cock?'

'Yes, oh yes.'

Esther wanted to fall to her knees, wrap her lips around him and feel his power in her mouth.

'Well, tough, you can't,' said the man. 'Maybe when Billy shows up he'll feed you a length. Would you like that? Huh, would you?'

Simeon's fingers were flying fast on her clit now.

'Yes,' she panted. 'Oh, yes.'

'Nice,' said Simeon. 'I can just picture you between me and Billy Boy, a cock at either end.'

Simeon's glossy black hair brushed against Esther's jaw as he leaned in to nibble by her ear. He nudged down her sweater, licked and sucked on her neck, his fingers still working her towards climax. The steady suck on Esther's neck made her feel like a schoolgirl smitten by some clumsy adolescent eager to mark her. But her thoughts weren't schoolgirlish, and she took the image Simeon had offered, conjuring up a picture of herself naked between two hard horny guys.

In reality, the stranger was kissing her neck, his hand deep inside her underwear, but, in her mind, she was on all fours, Simeon fucking her while she clutched the hips of another man, her mouth pulling on the bar of his cock. Oh, it was such a hot fantasy.

Billy. His name was Billy, Simeon's friend. And he was the man in the dream, the face at the window, an amalgam of fear, secrecy and desire. He had unearthly eyes and a powerful body, and he clutched her hair, taking control as he shunted into her mouth, echoing Simeon's words: want to suck my cock?

Esther, on the edge of climax, was tipped over by a dart of pain in her neck. She could almost feel the bruise forming under Simeon's lips, all the broken blood vessels blooming beneath her skin.

'I'm coming,' she gasped, slipping down the wall as the shivers gripped.

Simeon sucked harder on her neck, and her orgasm was spinning right out, holding her there on a plateau of bliss. She gazed past Simeon's shoulder, letting herself stream with the thrill, feeling dizzy and weak, the cabin blurring before her eyes.

And then a shadow passed one of the windows, the same window through which the eyes had stared at her.

'No,' she whimpered, trying to focus and get a grip as her orgasm ebbed away. 'No.' She tried to push at Simeon but her limbs were too heavy. She wanted to tell him they were in danger but all she could manage was 'no' and every time she said it, the pain intensified in her neck.

A shadow fell across the second window, darkening the room. For a brief moment, a pair of neon green eyes shone there in the lilac dusk of the snowstorm.

'No,' breathed Esther. A thousand tiny knives seemed to be stabbing into her neck. She was on the brink of collapse.

Then the door flew open with an almighty great crash. The blizzard whooshed in followed by a man from the military. He was a colossal figure in T-shirt and combats, staggering forwards with the bulk of Doug over one shoulder. A mohawk was shaved onto his head, and he was lightly tanned, big and beefy, his skin gleaming wetly. His white T-shirt, soaked from the snow, clung to the contours of his chest, his tight nipples pricking through the cotton. He shot Esther a look, and his eyes were as hauntingly green as the aurora borealis that sometimes lit the northern skies.

Esther screamed.

Simeon gave Esther a shove.

'Get off me, you slut,' he hissed. Blood dribbled from his mouth, and he drew his hand across his chin, smearing it with scarlet streaks. 'Billy,' he said. 'It's not what it seems, man. I swear.'

Billy unloaded Doug onto a chair where he sat, limp and stupefied, his brown beard glittering with lumps of ice. Doug frowned at Esther, looking confused. 'Hello, lady,' he mumbled.

Clearly enraged, Billy strode towards Simeon who stood motionless, lips glossed with blood, as if he realised he had no escape.

Esther's heart was going mad. She knew this man! He was the one in her dreams, and, dear God, he was even more beautiful. He had such a perfect face, strong and handsome, and his mohawk, dusted with snow, was the colour of mink. It lay in a stripe as exquisite as a pelt, and a vein on his temple was a thick blue knot. Esther wanted to run her hands over his head, caress the silky line of his hair, wipe the wet from his skin and soothe the tension that throbbed in that vein.

Billy cast her a cold glance then glowered at Simeon. He raised his fist, biceps taut, wet knuckles glinting, and landed Simeon a punch on the jaw. Simeon's head snapped back and he yelped, staggering from the impact, a hand to his face.

He might have fallen if Billy hadn't grabbed hold of his top and pulled him upright. The blizzard whirled into the cabin, riffling paper and blowing all the clothes and ropes that were hung about the place. The gas lanterns swayed, sending eerie shadows swinging across the room.

Simeon's lip was split, blood mingling with the blood already there. Billy kissed him fiercely, sparing no mercy for the pain he must have felt. Esther stared, stunned. They looked so hot together, a lanky injured man overpowered by a mean muscular soldier, cruelty and rage entwined. Shadows lurched and shrank as snow span around them, melting on their flesh and whipping Simeon's hair into a squall of black strands.

Then Billy pulled back, leaving Simeon dazed, his mouth now clean of blood.

'Oh, man,' mumbled Simeon.

Bending, Billy clasped Simeon's legs and heaved him onto his shoulders. He gave Esther another hard look, one that seemed to threaten, 'I'll be back.'

Then he turned and stalked out into the blizzard, Simeon draped over his shoulder.

T-shirt, thought Esther, he's only wearing a T-shirt. Then, for the first time in her life, she fainted.

'He's never punched me before,' said Simeon. 'Never!'

'Never?' asked Suzanne. 'I find that hard to believe.'

She sauntered naked into the white domed bedroom, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders and matching the clipped fluff of her pubes, a phial of Blud in each hand. Hope's End, sealed off from the outside world, had a permanent bluish-white light, and in it Suzanne seemed unreal, her hair glinting too brightly, her skin taking on a milky corpse-like cast. Simeon approved. She looked like an evil futuristic scientist bringing him test tubes of blood.

Billy he preferred in warmer tones and he put a lot of effort into keeping the main dome softly lit, candles flickering everywhere so the place resembled a gothic shrine in a massive igloo. Not that Billy appreciated it. 'Bela Lugosi's dead, don't you know,' he liked to mock. 'Get with the programme, Sim.'

But Simeon didn't want to get with the programme. He was old school – bourgeois and affected, if you listened to Billy – and would far rather be living in a mountainside castle, a coffin for his bed, a cape around his shoulders. He really wasn't cut out for modern life. It demanded so much of one.

'He hit me last week,' said Suzanne. She perched on the edge of the bed where Simeon languished in a sprawl of gawky self-pity. 'Here,' she said, handing him a Blud.

'Dude, that's different,' replied Simeon. 'I saw that. You said, slap me, daddy, you mean ol' brute.'

'Mmm, sexy,' said Suzanne, remembering.

'You enjoyed it,' Simon went on, speaking gingerly. 'What I mean is he's never hit me in anger before. We've been together since ... since 1726 and not once has he – What's this?'

Simeon looked at his phial of Blud, its glass casing clouded with cold.

'I put them outside a while,' she said. 'Blud Slush Puppies. Neat, yeah? I sugared mine. Didn't think you'd fancy it though. Sour's more your thing.'

Simeon pouted. 'Cheers, babe,' he said with camp offence.

Suzanne shook her phial, removed the top and tipped the icy red mush onto her tongue. Simeon followed suit. 'Yuck,' he said as he always did, before listlessly tossing the phial to the floor. His hair streamed like black silk against a stack of white pillows, his lip was a thick and pulpy strawberry, and he imagined he looked quite the consumptive, albeit a touch more debauched.

'Since 1726,' he went on. 'That's a long time, you know, Suze. Oh sure, we've had our ups and downs but I still love the guy. Man, he's been a cunt these last couple of decades though, a complete monster. I can't believe he hit me, can you?'

'It was only a little punch.'

'It was a big punch, Suze,' replied Simeon. 'He fucking hated me when he did that. He could've broken my jaw. And all because I was having a slurp on his piece of pussy. All because I beat him to it.'

'How could you beat him to it? Billy doesn't do humans.'

'Yeah, right,' scoffed Simeon. 'I bet you a penguin he'll do her. Do you think we make a good couple?'

'Sim, there are no penguins in the Arctic'

'See? That's how much I care about this dump. I don't even know what's on the menu. Do you?'

'What?' asked Suzanne. 'Do I know about food?'

'No. Do you think Billy and I make a good couple?'

'Course you do. You're great together. Stop worrying.'

'Hmm.' Simeon sighed heavily. 'I sometimes wonder if we're only together out of habit. It happens in a lot of long-term relationships. I guess I always thought he was The One – in a non-exclusive, vampirey sort of way –'

'Companion in life, fellow traveller and main squeeze,' offered Suzanne.

'Yes,' said Simeon. 'And a great fuck. But hell, I'm not sure any more. Nineteenth-century England. That was our time, Suze. Everyone half in love with death. Ah man, Billy looked good in sideburns and a frock coat. So fucking hot. Berlin in the 1980s was kind of cool, too. You know how I am for those Teutonic types. But basically, it hasn't been the same since Queen Victoria died.'

'Here, put your head in my lap,' cooed Suzanne. 'I'll tell you a story. No, you tell me one. Tell me about Billy, tell me how you met.' She climbed further onto the bed and rearranged the cushions so she was propped against them.

'You know how we met,' said Simeon. He nuzzled up to her, resting his head in her naked lap. He faced her feet and ran a hand down one slender leg before tracing idle circles around her knee. 'I'm always telling you.'

'Yeah, but I love it,' said Suzanne. Gently, she finger-combed Simeon's hair, drawing it back from his aristocratic face. 'It gets me so wet. Go on. It's seventeen twenty whatever, and you're in this Molly House in London ...'

'Miss Tilly's Molly House,' said Simeon wearily.

'Yeah, cool,' said Suzanne. 'And Miss Tilly, she's like this prize whore who gets off on gay men.'

'Pretty much,' said Simeon. 'The tavern was full of peep-holes. She'd spend half the night with her eye fixed to a hole, gawping at mollies getting sucked off.'

'Even though she only had one eye.'

'Yes,' said Simeon. 'She wore a patch.'

'Because?' encouraged Suzanne. She wound a length of Simeon's hair tight around one finger and pulled steadily.

'Ouch. Because someone took offence one day and stuck a poker in the peep-hole.'

'Jeepers,' said Suzanne, unravelling the ringlet of hair. 'I love that story. And she still kept watching! What an amazing woman.'

'She was very, very dirty. A complete fag-hag.'

'Yeah,' said Suzanne, dreamy with admiration. 'I can relate to that though. Totally.'

'Man, those days were wild,' said Simeon. 'Billy was being Billy, you know how he is, a lone wolf prowling the streets, hunting for blood. He saw me lurking around St Paul's, thought I looked like trade, so he followed me and some other guy, can't remember his name. Followed us to Miss Tilly's. It was crazy in there, always crazy. Guys in drag, drinking and dancing. I remember sitting on Billy's knee, wearing some frilly dress in orange and blue silks, and wafting my face with a little Spanish fan.'

'Ha, you in a dress,' murmured Suzanne. 'It's hard to imagine.'

'Hmmm, well, I was hard,' Simeon drawled.

'Actually, scratch that,' said Suzanne. 'I just imagined it. It's very you. What was Billy doing?'

'Oh, Billy was God's gift that night,' said Simeon. 'He was acting like a real gent, stern and cool but, wow, so dirty. Man, he looked good, those bright-green eyes, that blond hair. It's such a lovely shade, like champagne. Not really blond at all. I wish he'd grow it again. And he had his hand up my petticoats and he was wanking me off, watching my face, really watching me. And all these other guys were whirling about the room, skirts spinning, squealing and laughing.'

'Oh, yum,' said Suzanne. 'And then you shot your load. Can we skip that part? Tell me how he made you a vampire.'

'You know how he made me a vampire,' sighed Simeon.

'Yeah, but I could hear it again and again, and I'd still be happy,' said Suzanne. 'You're like my favourite TV show, you know that? I love when it's repeated and the best episodes just get better each time.'

'My lip hurts, Suze. It's not easy to talk. Later, huh? Just keep stroking my hair, will you? I love it. It's so soothing.'

'Mmm, I like it too. Why's your lip taking so long to heal?'

'Blud,' said Simeon. 'It makes you weaker, reduces your vampire powers.'

'Ugh, I hate that shit. Tastes wrong, does you wrong. Nice Kitty. If we had a proper cat, I could stroke that.'

'Hey, don't diss my cat,' said Simeon. 'Renfield's just unusual, that's all. Do you want me to purr?'

'Oh, yes please.'

For a while, the two of them stayed like that, Simeon with his head in Suzanne's lap, making rumbling noises in his throat as she raked his hair.

'Where is Renfield?' asked Simeon. 'I haven't seen him all day.'

'Dunno. Probably out mousing or whatever you'd call it up here. Can I put plaits in your hair?'

'Do what you want with me, babes,' murmured Simeon.

'Slut,' said Suzanne affectionately.

She drew strands of hair into thin threads and wove a slim plait which, because Simeon's hair was in such great condition, came half undone as soon as she released it.

'If you ask me,' said Simeon, 'the fact we've got a vampire cat should be our main worry. If anything's going to give the game away, it's Renfield, not you capturing a mortal and trying to keep him.'

'Totally agree. I think Billy was way over the top,' said Suzanne. 'One person wouldn't hurt, surely. And we're so well hidden here. They'll never find us.'

'I know,' sympathised Simeon. 'Oh, and Doug was such a bear. I really wanted to keep him. Our very own sex and blood slave.'

'Don't, it's not fair,' said Suzanne. 'He was hot. And such a yummy cock. It's been ages since I've tasted fresh meat.'

'You only got here the other week!' exclaimed Simeon. 'Ouch,' he added, touching his lip.

'Yeah, but I'm greedy,' replied Suzanne. 'And I'm not used to Blud. Hell, I wish Billy hadn't kicked off. Doug was lovely. Boy, he fucked me like a man possessed, like Billy does when he's on form.'

'I know. That was awesome. God, I so wanted it to be my turn next.'

'I'm getting hungry,' said Suzanne. 'Really hungry. Maybe we should think about leaving, Sim. It's the first sunrise soon. Isn't that usually your cue to start making a move?'

'Ha,' scoffed Simeon. 'Like we might leave while she's still around.'

Suzanne sighed and smoothed a hand across Simeon's forehead. 'Maybe we should bail and leave him to it. We could get to the coast under our own steam then head down to Kangerlussuaq. We could be on a flight to the States in a few days, maybe stay with Christophe and the guys in New York. I'm not really into all this returning to your roots shit. I mean, the temperature's nice here but that's as far as it goes.'

Simeon turned, squirming till he was comfortable and facing Suzanne's golden-haired groin. 'Tempting,' he said. He wriggled a finger into the slippery lips of her sex, trailing upwards to roll her clit. 'But the west coast's still some distance off, you know.'

'Mmm,' said Suzanne, half pleasure, half agreement. 'We could take my skidoo.'

'Sun's coming up any day now,' said Simeon. 'We'd need to be protected.'

'We could take one of the blackout tents,' said Suzanne.

Simeon gazed at Suzanne's clit as he fretted. 'It's quite a journey, babes,' he said. 'But, yeah. Maybe we could.'

Suzanne parted her thighs a fraction wider. 'Definitely we could,' she purred. 'All we'd need is a good meal inside us first.'

Billy was starting to realise that Blud had its limitations. If you wanted merely to exist, to operate in a state of vampiric numbness then Blud was your man, no problem. But if you wanted to thrive, to suffer and soar and to taste it all, then only human blood would do.

Since the birth of Esther, Billy had been living half a life. He'd been traipsing around the world's coldest, loneliest parts, resisting what he needed in a bid to resist her. It would've been better if she'd never been reborn. And yet all his vampire-life, ever since he'd killed her on the rim of the fountain, he'd been longing for her return.

She tormented him. It pained him that he'd killed her. It pained him that he'd once intended making her a vampire because, older and wiser, he could see that was an act of selfishness, not love. And this pain wouldn't leave him. He'd loved and fucked a lot of people after Selin, too many to count. Some he could remember well, others had faded or disappeared, but his one constant was Selin.

Every death he compared to hers; every fuck to their first and last; his every orgasm to the pure perfection of the one that had gripped him, surging through his veins as Selin's dying heartbeat had filled his body. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fuck away the pain.

And now he'd seen Selin's eyes in Esther's. Without a doubt, it was her. Some externals were different, sure, but that was irrelevant. In essence, the two women were one and the same, separated by over three centuries. Billy, knowing how rare rebirth was, had never dared hope it would happen. Mortals didn't realise it, but only when a soul matched up with the right body was a person truly reincarnated. Most times, souls ended up in the wrong bodies, and that's why people suffered so. They were all in the wrong containers, searching for the right one which they sweetly described as looking for love.

Billy curled a barbell to his arm, straining up and down. He was sweating and tired but a long way from stopping. Hope's End, thankfully, was well equipped with facilities and various psychological comforts to ease the stay of whoever was meant to be there: researchers, soldiers, prisoners of war. Presumably, the US military once had big plans for it. Unlike the Arctic's Distant Early Warning stations, set up to detect Soviet bombers, the purpose of the dome was obscure. For all Billy knew, there might be dozens more buried under mounds of fake snow. There was even a sunroom for the dark winter months. Billy used it to top his tan. He didn't suit the coffin-cold vampire look.

In the gym, Billy would sometimes thank Gorbachev. Much as he loved the Arctic isolation, without the gym, he'd have cracked up. Exercise helped, really helped. It made him strong, physically and mentally. Lately, he could barely function for wanting Esther. The moment she'd arrived on the icecap he'd sensed her and the last couple of weeks had been agony. Now, idiot that he was, he'd done the thing he swore he'd never do: he'd tasted her blood.

He should have held back. He should have resisted. But when he'd burst into the cabin and seen Simeon there with her blood on his lips, her juices on his fingers, Billy had flipped. One swift left hook, and Simeon's lip was spilling with two bright-red bloods. Kissing him clean, the taste of Esther emerging fresh and strong, had been the best thing to happen to Billy since he'd quit killing.

He wanted more, so much more. He wanted more of her blood, her body, her heart, her cunt, her love. Nadir's voice came echoing down the centuries: 'You are a vampire, Wilhelm, don't fight it.'

If I could just ease off the slaying, thought Billy, maybe I could learn to manage it. He swapped hands and began curling the barbell to work on his other arm. He was aiming for three sets of ten but stopped when he heard a scream from the other room.

Hell, he'd forgotten to clear up. Stunned by what he'd done, Billy had headed straight for the gym.

He dropped his barbell and strode into the main dome. There was no point trying to hide it. Simeon, hand pressed to his forehead was pacing back and forth, two paces left, two paces right. He glanced at the rug a couple of times, grimacing with revulsion.

Suzanne stood there, eyes sparkling with tears, a hand clamped to her mouth.

On the polar bear rug were the remnants of Renfield, a scrap of silver-blue fluff, his neck a gory wound edged with matted fur.

'Oh, man,' breathed Simeon, staring at Billy. 'You ate the cat. You ate the fucking cat.'

Billy, gleaming with sweat, glared back. He tipped his jaw defiantly, chest swelling.

'I was hungry,' he said.

Simeon rushed to embrace Suzanne. 'I told you,' he sobbed. 'He's a monster.' He turned to Billy. 'Dude, we are so over.'