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matter-of-factly as I could, trying
to channel all the doctors I had ever despised, suddenly understanding why they sounded so cold.
    "Normally, if the bite isn't too deep and hasn't hit an artery, it's enough to stop the
bleeding almost straight away. By morning there isn't even a scar."
    "R-really?"
    "Yeah. See?" Stretching my neck up to show the flawless skin where my one-time friend
Tug had tried to kill me. "Gary did the same for me once. Now I'm right as rain."
    Somehow, I always end up talking like my Nanna when I'm trying to be reassuring. I'm surprised I
didn't pat him on the head, call him 'love' and offer him one of the good biscuits.
    The whole time I tried not to look at Gary with his mouth nestled in Hamish's throat. When Gary
finally sat up, however, I couldn't avoid the sight of him, face streaked red, his skin flushed with
the pseudo-life that Hamish's blood had given him. Hamish was staring too.
    "There." Gary's hazel eyes looked startlingly on the green side with that almost-life
sparkle behind them. "You'll be right." He glanced at us staring at him and rubbed the
heel of his hand across his chin. He inspected the resulting stain and, with a disturbed frown,
scrubbed his hand clean against his jeans.
    "Thanks," said Hamish faintly. "I wish, I wish I'd picked you."
    Gary looked startled; his frown deepened. "I don't do that."
    "Oh."
    "You shouldn't either," I couldn't help saying.
    "No," Hamish said, but doubtfully. He lifted a hand to his red-tinged throat, brushing
his fingers over the partially healed gash. "No," he addded, more firmly.
    "Can we get out of here now?" Gary asked pointedly, "This place is still on
fire."
    Hamish tried to stand up, wobbled and fell halfway through the attempt, so I slung an arm across
his back and supported him. That worked for about two minutes, but the smoke haze was starting to
thicken. Hamish began to cough, an action that threatened to tear the healing wound and set off the
bleeding again. We got briefly entangled in the sodden, smoke-stinking curtains before we staggered
into the main bar.
    "What's that awful smell?" Hamish choked out and I was glad I couldn't see Jack's body
at the top of the stairs.
    "This way." Gary grabbed my arm and steered us towards the window. He tried to take me
out first but I pulled back.
    "Him," I said, pushing Hamish at him. The poor kid was half unconscious with shock.
    "Stay down," Gary told me, pushing me towards the floor in case I didn't get the
message. He was all take-charge and energised. I'd only ever seen him like this once before, when
he'd saved my life exactly as he'd just saved Hamish's. Flushed with my blood, his brain finally
sparking the way it never did in his blood-free existence. He'd been getting me and Evie out of a
burning building then too.
    "Hold on tight," I heard Gary say. Hamish muttered something back, prompting Gary to
reply, "You can't hurt me, but she'll be really angry with me if I drop you."
    There were scrambling noises at the windowsill, and then "I'll be right back!" followed
by the receding sound of a laden vampire climbing down brickwork.
    I lay on the floor and sucked in the slightly-less-sooty air, thinking of Evie and how right she
had been to run away to a commune last year, and that if I'd been smarter I'd have joined her. We
really have to stop doing this, Gary.
    The air tasted of smoke. It sometimes tasted like the smell of charred meat, so I was trying not
to vomit. I was also trying not to think about Kate. She would be so angry with me for getting
myself in this god-awful mess to begin with and she would never forgive me for dying on her and
leaving her all alone.
    You are not going to die. Really. Gary's coming back for you.
    Hands seized my upper arms and I reached up to meet the assistance.
    "Hang on tight, Lissa," Gary's voice was in my ear. I nodded, unwilling to attempt
speech in the acrid atmosphere. I clambered onto his back with my arms wrapped around his neck -
another flash of