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Which means that he won’t be looking for us in here. Not in a church.’
    ‘But I don’t
want
to stay here!’ Gladys snivelled. And Father Ramon said, ‘You can’t stay here. Not any of you. This is a place of worship. People will be in and out all day tomorrow. We can’t have you cluttering up the vestry – you’ll be seen.’
    ‘There isn’t a crypt we could use?’ Sanford queried, without much hope.
    The priest shook his head. He was occupying his usual seat,near a pile of plastic tubs full of old Christmas decorations. In fact we were all sitting where we normally did, and at first glance might have been holding our regular Tuesday night get-together, surrounded by a familiar assortment of locked cupboards, dusty leadlight windows and piles of folding chairs.
    On this occasion, however, there were no glazed eyes, slumped postures or smothered yawns. Nor was there any talk about ‘owning your identity’ or ‘setting positive goals’. We hadn’t gathered to discuss Dave’s issues with his father, or Casimir’s issues with the rest of the world, or my issues with having to attend group meetings in the first place. So the customary atmosphere of boredom, fatigue and resignation had evaporated; the air buzzed with tension, and I remember clearly how confused we were. I remember how, as the shock wore off, most of us couldn’t keep still. Bridget wrung her hands. Dave clawed at his hair, and Sanford paced the floor. I was chewing my fingernails, the way I always do when I’m on edge.
    Never in my wildest dreams had I ever expected to run foul of a genuine vampire slayer. Blade and Van Helsing are fictional creations, after all; they’re not supposed to be walking around in
real life
. They belong to the kind of fantasy world where vampires are dangerous, or at least very powerful. They belong to a world inhabited by hyper-evolved beings like Zadia Bloodstone – who has her own special way of dealing with vampire slayers.
    She always lures them to their doom with her catlike grace and husky purr.
    ‘Okay,’ said Father Ramon, assuming his customary role as facilitator. ‘I guess we’re all here now, so we should probably recite our Common Goal, just to kick things off. George – I think it’s your turn, isn’t it?’
    Obediently, George took a deep breath. ‘I swear,’ he began, ‘on all I hold sacred, that I will preserve my humanity in the face oftemptation, and harm no living soul in the pursuit of—’
    ‘Screw that,’ Horace interrupted. He glared around at the rest of us. ‘Forget the Common Goal. This isn’t a group meeting, this is a Council of War.’
    ‘Hear, hear,’ I said. ‘Something’s
happened
. Casimir’s
dead
.’
    ‘But I don’t understand.’ Bridget’s whimper was barely audible. ‘What kind of person would do such a terrible thing to poor Casimir?’
    ‘Someone who believes all the lies,’ Father Ramon sadly rejoined. ‘Someone who’s scared.’
    ‘Someone who’s read Nina’s books,’ Sanford snapped, and I turned on him.
    ‘You think this is
my
fault?’ I was ready to explode. ‘Is that what you’re saying, you
stinker?
’
    ‘No.’ The priest laid a hand on my arm. ‘No one’s blaming you. No one’s blaming anyone.’ He cut a reproachful look at Sanford. ‘That wouldn’t be useful.’
    ‘You’re lucky I’m here at all,’ I spluttered, having suddenly experienced a flash of inspiration. ‘Without me, you’d be stuffed. You’d have nowhere to go.’
    ‘Huh?’ said George. And Sanford stopped pacing for a moment to look at me.
    ‘Well, think about it.’ I gazed around the room. ‘This killer – he waits until daytime. He was too scared to attack Casimir at night, so he must believe that we have superhuman powers.’ I went on to outline my theory: that the slayer, if he knew our whereabouts, would probably try the same technique with all of us. He would launch his attack during the day, when we were helpless. (Or at least, more