Chapter 1: The Vampire Disease

The streets of New London were always busy, even in the dead of night. The city was almost alive—a nest of activity that never stopped, never faltered, never calmed. Fifteen million people lived in New London and no matter how late it was, someone was always going somewhere else. For Darla Jenkins, she was going home.

She pulled her coat close to her, trying to fight back the night's chill and the smatterings of rain that hit her back. Her heels clicked against the concrete pavement as she walked in a barely straight line down the street, cars strolling past and only passively paying her any attention. Her phone buzzed in her pocket incessantly—probably Rick begging for forgiveness.

“Spineless…asshole,” her thoughts spilt out into slurred words, heard only by the wind and rain. Darla stumbled, caught herself on the wall, and then pushed forward. She felt the tears stinging the sides of her ears but forced them away. “Get over yourself, Darla.” She wasn't going to let him tie her down any longer. Rick was always doing that. Convincing her not to apply for that job at the museum, insisting that his brother stays with them ‘just until he gets back on his feet’. What a joke. She wasn’t going to stand for it any longer.

“Hello?” someone called out. As she passed by a small alleyway, Darla heard the voice from the shadows. It was quiet, almost drowned out by the sound of the rain hitting the lid of a plastic bin near the entrance. Darla stopped, her handbag swaying a little as she turned to look towards the sound. She couldn't see too far into the darkness and all she heard after a few seconds was the rain. The silence grew, and nothing replaced it.

Darla thought about continuing on, leaving whoever was down there alone. But by then, it was too late. A pair of hands shot out of the dark and the next moment, she was pulled into it. She barely had a moment to open her mouth and scream before someone, some*thing*, covered it.

\*

“Up!” Polly yelled from the kitchen, but Lee was already awake. He stared at the ceiling, thin strips of light shone on the chipping paint, dust reflecting as they passed through the beams. He knew he had to move soon, his phone had told rang off multiple times at this point, but Lee wasn’t sure how much his head would spin once he sat up.

At his feet, his door shook as Polly banged on the wood three times. “Get the hell up, come on!”

“Urgh…” Lee choked out. *Screw it.* He pushed himself up into a sitting position quickly and braced himself for an onslaught of nausea. When it didn’t come, Lee blinked in surprise. *Huh.* His head throbbed a little, his mouth was dry, and his breath stank, but all of that was trivial.

Fifteen minutes later, Lee Gray left the bathroom dressed and fresh and sniffing the coffee in the air. His and Polly’s flat in Camden Town was small, but over the four years they had lived there, it had become the closest thing to home they’d had since they left for New London.

Polly was waiting for him in the kitchen, her black and white waitress’ uniform already donned for work. Her hair—jet black like Lee’s—was tied up in a short ponytail which she fiddled with endlessly.

“Coffee?” he asked when she saw him.

“Coffee,” she handed him a cup, which he took after giving his best smile. “What time were you up to this time?”

Lee drank deeply, trying to prolong his answer as long as possible. “Uh…you know what? I don’t really know,” he said. Polly looked at him, unconvinced. “Let’s say…three o’clock?”

“Jesus, Lee,” she rolled her eyes. “We talked about this, didn’t we? I swear, if your grades start to drop…”

Lee held his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know,” he said. “Don’t worry, I won’t let them. Besides, Professor Robinson likes me…I think. Probably.” He took another sip of his coffee.

“After everything we did to get here…” Lee felt a stab of guilt at that. She was right—she almost always was.

“I know,” he nodded. Polly wasn’t looking at him anymore, but at her mug.

“I just don’t like it, is all,” she said. “They always talk about these vampire attacks at night and—don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m crazy for even thinking it,” she put her cup down on the side. “I’m not gonna stop you from going out at night, just…promise me you’ll be careful, okay?” She reached out and brushed some of Lee’s curly black hair out of his eyes. “I can’t lose you, too.”

Lee was silent for a moment, the coffee cup cooling down in his hands. “Alright, Pols. I promise.” He sighed, and Polly smiled at him.

“Good,” she said. “Now go on, before you’re late.”

\*

Harriet left her car, her notebook already out and opened to a fresh page. The street was busy with onlookers trying to get a good look down a cramped alleyway. A couple of officers stopped anyone who got too close, their reflective coats wet with the light drizzle.

Harriet had got the call half an hour earlier. A woman killed late last night, found by the shopkeep in the early hours with pieces torn out of her. She wrote down what she knew from memory, idly scratching it onto the paper before approaching the officers at the entrance.

“Harriet Green,” she said, barely looking at the man. The man was taller than her with short blond hair. His left eye flashed dully as he looked at her.

“Another AVD, huh?” he said finally, his eye dimming and returning to normal. “So it *is* a vamp attack?”

“You wanna announce it to the world?” Harriet asked before nodding to the people behind her. “Just let me in.” She felt the eyes on the back of her head and knew it was too late. If the Anti-Vampire Department was at the scene of a crime, you could easily guess what they were there for. In her head, Harriet cursed the officer, but he let her through all the same.

Her partner, Boris, was already there, standing over a long piece of tarp that hid the body. He was tall with broad shoulders and a face that betrayed his youth. His navy blue suit was buttoned up to the top and still looked brand-new. When he saw her, his expression changed and he nodded towards the tarp on the ground.

“Vic’s name was Darla Jenkins,” he said, clearing his throat. “Twenty-five. Died at about four in the morning.” Harriet knelt down in front of the tarp.

“Was she with anybody?” she asked, but Boris shook his head.

“Apparently she was out drinking with her boyfriend and a couple of friends, but she booked it after an argument,” he told her. Harriet picked up the edge of the tarp and, after a quick glance at the entrance of the alley to make sure no one was looking, lifted it.

Darla Jenkins’ throat was a mess of black, congealed blood and deep scratches. Her face was contorted in pain even now and her right hand was still reaching for a smashed phone just beyond her reach. *Damn monster probably broke it right in front of her.*

Boris leaned forward to look. “All those scratches and bites…what kind of vamp does this?”

Harriet threw the tarp back over Darla. “Don’t use that term, Anderson,” she said, then stood up straight and walked over to the phone. “You’re a professional, now, not a kid. We’re here to find and get rid of them, not call them names.”

“I…You’re right. Sorry,” he turned away from Harriet just as she picked up the phone. The glass was shattered, probably stood on by her attacker—one last insult as their victim bled out. Something about it was ringing a bell, but she couldn’t quite place it.

Boris made a sound and in her peripheral vision, she saw him tapping away at his phone.

“What is it?”

“You know,” he said. “we *are* in Blood-Born territory right now. Maybe this was them?” *Not a bad idea, but…*

“No,” she told him. “Blood-Born kidnap their victims first. Probably drain them for all their blood before they dump them.” She remembered the state that Jenkins was in. “This one’s different. More…sadistic.” She thought for a long moment, feeling Boris watching her, then shook her head. “I don’t know, but I recognise the M.O. Let’s get back, I want to look into some files.”