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“Can't you make this thing go any faster?” Joe demanded.

“I have to stay within the speed limit, Joe,” Andy replied calmly. “You know half the police belong to Beckett. If we get arrested, we won't be helping anyone!”

“You'd go faster if it was Patrick!” Joe complained bitterly.

Andy gritted his teeth. The accusation was harsh, but, in reality, it may well have been true. How would he feel if the call had come from Patrick? No, Joe was right, he would be speeding and instantly he felt ashamed that he had not reacted in the same way.

“And the faster we find Brendon, the faster we'll find Patrick,” Pete grumbled from the back seat.

“You're both right,” Andy nodded as he pressed harder on the pedal.

Joe sighed with relief as the car tore through a set of traffic lights just as they were turning yellow. No sooner were they through than a blue light filled the rear view mirror and the sound of a siren wailed in their ears. Andy sighed his annoyance.

“I'm sorry, Andy,” Joe almost whispered.

“I'm not angry with you,” he replied through a clenched jaw as he looked behind at the approaching patrol car.

“Keep going!” Pete ordered from the back seat.

“You mean…” Andy began, astonished at the idea.

“I mean keep going! They're vampires! They don't want us for speeding, they just want us. They know this car.”

“Yeah, well,” Joe turned to look behind him. “Whose genius idea was it to paint a giant bat on the hood?”

“They'd know it anyway,” Pete scowled, “from the licence plate.”

“What's up with you?” Joe asked, suddenly concerned for an entirely different reason.

On the back seat, Pete sat, hugging his right knee, his face looked very pale and drawn. In the occasional light shed by streetlights, Joe could see that Pete's eyes seemed sunken and dull and he appeared to be shaking.

“Nothing,” he growled back. “Just concentrate on losing those cops.”

“Don't you think I'm trying?” Andy snapped in return.

At the words, the rear door nearest Pete opened briefly and he was gone.

“What the hell!” Andy cried, trying to look behind him and keep his eyes on the road at the same time.

In the mirror, he saw Pete crouched menacingly on top of the hood of the patrol car following them. Almost immediately, he was smashing the windscreen and turning the wheel to force them off the road.

“Should we stop?” Andy turned to Joe, the crashed police car almost out of sight.

“He did it so we'd get away didn't he?” Joe urged Andy to keep going. “Put your foot down and get us there!”

Behind them, now a long way back, Pete was thrown from the crashed car, partly raised from the floor as it had kept moving despite hitting and almost flattening the street sign. Lying on his back, partly dazed, Pete looked up to see the two vampire police officers approaching, their dark eyes intent on revenge. The veins almost stood out against Pete's now desperately pale skin. Would this work? Would drinking second hand human blood sate his deep thirst? There was really only one way to find out and as vicious as they seemed and even outnumbered, they would soon realise that it was they that didn't stand a chance.

*

Beckett and Brendon walked with an air of total superiority, as if on a mission from which nothing and no one could deter them. In many ways, it was true. Beckett had made plans, in depth and far-reaching plans, some of which had already been achieved. Capturing Patrick so early had been an unexpected, yet welcome, bonus. But now he wanted to push forward and he would allow nothing to stand in his way.

Approaching the conference room, Beckett smiled thinly to see Mike Carden waiting somewhat impatiently outside the door. As soon as the younger vampire saw him, however, he stood to attention. Still clearly frightened by Beckett's earlier threats, Mike now did what he could to ingratiate himself back into Beckett's favour.

“They're still in there, I take it?” Beckett asked.

“Yes, Master William,” Mike nodded, obviously relieved that the pair had finally arrived. “Judge Collins tried to leave about ten minutes ago, but I convinced him to stay.”

“May I ask, how?” Beckett asked wickedly.

Mike grinned in reply and ran his tongue across his fangs. “Just reminded him that you wouldn't be very pleased if he left so rudely.”

“So true,” Beckett grinned. “After all, we didn't order our food to go, did we? Are you both certain you know what to do?”

“Oh yes,” Brendon replied eagerly, licking his lips as he did.

“Definitely, Master,” Mike almost salivated at the words.

“Very well, let's eat.”

Opening the door, Mike stood back to allow Beckett and Brendon to enter first. It still galled him that even after Beckett had left him for dead without even a thought of assistance, that he was forced back into his old position, subservient to both of them. But at the same time, he knew that greater success was likely to come if he stayed loyal to Beckett. The options were slim. As a Dandy, he would be universally hated amongst the vampire community; to be on his own would be a dangerous proposition for him.

But all of this fled his mind as the scent of human blood filled his nostrils with its rich, warm, sweet and coppery aroma. Inside the conference room, at the far end of the table were sat possibly the most powerful three men in the state: Mayor Roberts, Chief Judge Collins and Governor Reed. Beckett regarded each of them coolly. He rarely found his own food, in the past he had had people to do that for him, so this was almost a new experience for him. Still, it wasn't as if he had to chase it down, it was sitting there, waiting patiently to be plucked and eaten like a ripe peach. But it wasn't enough. In the same way humans might add condiments, a sauce or gravy to their food, he wanted that extra little bit of spice. That special flavour that could only come with fear. Fixing his eyes on the youngest of the group, the man he had himself managed to place in power, Judge Collins, Beckett drew his lips into a broad yet menacing smile, his fangs fully extended.

“Wh…what's going on?” the Mayor stammered, rising to his feet.

Slowly, unwilling to believe what they were seeing, the Governor and Judge rose to their feet also, glancing nervously at each other.

“You've heard of breakfast meetings?” Beckett asked, his gaze almost burning through them.

More nervous glances followed, finally with the realisation that this was not simply a discussion about Beckett's continued influence. It was now clear to them that influence was no longer enough for Beckett and what remained of his coven. He wanted more, unimaginably more.

“Well,” Beckett continued with a cruel smirk, undeterred by the silence that had met his first question. “You're breakfast.”

Pressing the Governor up against the wall, Brendon smiled broadly at the terror in the man's eyes, made all the wider and horrified by the sight of Mike feeding noisily and greedily from the Mayor, already slumped and unable to support his own weight.

“No finesse,” Brendon commented with disdain. “Now then, look at Master William, he hasn't even moved, he doesn't need to. See?”

Beckett was staring intently at his prey, who in turn was whimpering at his inability to stop himself taking one small step after another towards Beckett.

“Please! Master Beckett, no! Haven't we done everything you asked us to?”

“Why does everyone assume I'm asking?” he remarked to no one in particular. It was a rhetorical question, but Brendon provided the answer anyway.

“Because, Master William, humans still foolishly believe that they're in charge and that they can trust us.”

Governor Reed gasped as Beckett sank his long, razor sharp fangs into Judge Collins' neck and listened to his agonising scream as Beckett tore purposefully, but almost casually at his flesh.

“Because,” Brendon continued as he turned his gazed back to the man still pinned against the wall, “because they may be corrupt, but they don't realise what evil truly is.”

It was the last thing he heard before Brendon sliced through his skin with an almost reckless disregard for the man's suffering. As the blood poured into the cruel young vampire's mouth, the added sweetness of the man's fear caused his eyes to roll in their sockets. A blissful, powerful feeling swept over him as all other thoughts were briefly wiped from his mind.

*

Patrick almost fell forward against the vault door as he felt a sudden release in his mind. It felt as though a gag had suddenly been removed and he could speak again.

“Pete!” his mind cried out instantly.

“Patrick?”

“I don't know how long I've got, Beckett must be distracted. I'm locked in a small vault in the basement of the Mayor's Offices!"

Wiping his mouth, the two police officers lying dead at his feet, Pete nodded to himself.

“I'm on my way.”

Pete had panicked when he realised that he was no longer able to stomach the blend that Patrick had originally devised for him. He knew now that drinking Patrick's blood had been the start of was fast becoming a full-blown addiction. He had tried hard to continue with the blend but it had rarely remained inside him for more than a few minutes. With Andy and Joe only feet away, he had swiftly learned the meaning of restraint, but it was, quite literally, killing him. His leaping from the car to challenge the chasing police officers was less about heroics and more about a potential meal, but it had served both purposes. But Joe had seen him, had seen how ill and desperate he looked. If he were to even try to keep this a secret, he would have to be more careful, much more careful. If he didn't, he suspected that a stake might soon find his heart.