Devon, England, 1814

It had been too long since Ysanne Moreau had eaten, and the predator inside was getting restless. Her fangs ached in her gums.

She leaned against the nearest wall, watching people pass by, searching for the right opportunity to get one of them alone.

The fishing village of Clovelly bustled with life. It was too small for Ysanne to feel comfortable staying long, but there were still some dark, narrow streets that she could pull prey into.

But everyone walking up and down the steep, cobble main street was in groups or pairs – Ysanne needed to find someone on their own.

She moved further down the street, heading for the harbour.

Clovelly was a remarkably beautiful village, clinging to a four-hundred-foot cliff. Old cottages wound their way down a cleft in the cliff to the harbour itself, and the streets were steep enough that sensible shoes were required. Seabirds chattered night and day, and the air smelled wild, briny. If Ysanne wasn't a vampire, she might have stayed longer, but in a small village like this, locals tended to be more observant of people who didn't fit in.

She was almost at the harbour when a flash of blonde caught her eye – a girl walking across the shingled ground, between the boats that had been pulled up out of the water. Two men followed her, and Ysanne's instincts prickled. It wasn't uncommon for people to walk the harbour in the evenings, but there was a singular purpose in the way the men moved. They looked like predators – and Ysanne should know.

No matter how long she lived, it seemed that some things never changed.

She quickened her step.

If those men thought they could hurt that girl in any way, they were about to find themselves dealing with an angry vampire instead.

By the time Ysanne reached the harbour, the men had cornered the girl against the harbour wall. It was dark down here, but not too dark for a vampire. Ysanne was about to stalk forward, when the girl suddenly stopped cowering, straightened up, and gave the men a smile like the edge of a knife.

She swatted the nearest man with the back of her hand, a movement that looked almost delicate, and he crashed against into the side of a fishing boat. While the second man was frozen in shock, the girl grabbed his arm and pulled him in close, twisted his arm behind his back with one hand, and gripped his throat with the other.

"You can come out now," she said.

Ysanne thought the girl was talking to her, then a shape rose up from inside one of the wooden boats that peppered the harbour. He moved with the fluid grace of a vampire, but he was uncertain too, as if this was something he was still getting used to.

The girl pushed her captive at the man who'd climbed out of the boat, and he buried his fangs in the human's throat.

Ysanne moved her foot, deliberately dislodging shingle. The faint scrape of stone on stone caught the girl's attention, and her head whipped around.

"Who are you?" she said, curious rather than suspicious.

"I was coming to rescue you, but apparently you don't need that," Ysanne said.

Realisation dawned in the girl's eyes, followed quickly by concern. "Are you alright?" she said.

"Me? Why wouldn't I be?"

"How long ago were you turned?" the girl asked, her voice soft with sympathy.

Ysanne was missing something here. While it was common for vampires to be curious about each other's ages, it wasn't usually a question they opened with.

"Nearly four hundred years ago. Why do you ask?" she said.

"Four – what? You're not a new vampire?"

"Do I look like a new vampire?" Ysanne was vaguely insulted.

The man that the girl had knocked against the side of the boat started to get up, and she smacked him back down without even looking.

"Why would you think I was new?" Ysanne said.

"Because I keep finding them."

The male vampire finished drinking, and looked uncertainly at the two women.

"I'm Jemima," the girl said. "This is Phillip."

"Ysanne. What do you mean you keep finding new vampires?"

"Hold on." Jemima picked up the man cringing by the side of the boat, and bit him.

Ysanne's own fangs lengthened in response, straining towards the scent of fresh blood.

When she'd had finished drinking, Jemima shoved the man in Ysanne's direction. "You look thirsty," she said.

Any other time, Ysanne would have refused – human beings could only give so much blood before it became dangerous for them, but considering this man's intentions towards Jemima before realising she could fight back, she didn't much care if she caused him harm.

She drank as much as she wanted, and then let the man fall in a heap at her feet, dizzy and weak.

"Let him go, Phillip," Jemima instructed.

Phillip was still holding onto his own meal; at Jemima's words, he pushed him to the ground by his friend.

"I think we should have a discussion. Will you come to my cottage?" Jemima asked.

Ysanne nodded.

"Good. I'll explain everything there."

Jemima's cottage was almost at the top of the cliff, offering dazzling views of the sea, the harbour, the sprawling clifftop. The white-washed walls seemed to gleam under the moonlight, and the front door and window-frames were painted pastel green. Flowers grew in bright sprays everywhere.

"Come in," Jemima said, opening the front door and beckoning.

She led Ysanne through to a small, cosy kitchen and pulled out a chair for her at the table. Phillip took a chair at the other end.

"I haven't seen you around before. Are you new to the area?" Jemima asked Ysanne.

"Just passing through. I get the feeling I've walked into something I wasn't expecting."

Jemima looked at Phillip. "Someone is turning new vampires and then abandoning them. Phillip was the first one I found. Amelia is still struggling through the turn – she's asleep upstairs. And the third one I found was rabid; I had to kill him. I've lived here for six months, and nothing like this has happened before, but someone local must be responsible."

"There are no other vampires in the village?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Have you tried tracking this vampire down?"

Jemima spread her hands. "I've been too busy trying to clear up the mess. New vampires shouldn't be on their own; someone has to take care of them. But I can't do that and find whoever turned them at the same time."

Ysanne saw where this conversation was going. "You didn't invite me here out of politeness, did you? You want my help."

Jemima's expression flickered but she didn't look away.

"This isn't my fight," Ysanne said.

"I believe it's all our fight. Our lives depend on remaining hidden, and whoever this vampire is, they are putting us all at risk. Why are they doing it? Why turn new vampires only to abandon them immediately? What's the benefit?"

Ysanne had no answers. "I didn't come to Clovelly to get involved with something like this."

Disappointment – and maybe a touch of anger – crossed Jemima's face. "So you'll just ignore it?" She stalked forward and placed her palms flat on the table, leaning over Ysanne. "You're older than me, so you know better than any of us that we must stay hidden. How can you turn a blind eye to this?"

When she put it like that . . .

Ysanne was tired. It had been a long time since she'd had a friend or a lover, or anyone but her own company, and maybe that had made her selfish. She'd only come to Clovelly because it was beautiful, because she'd never been before, and she just wanted to enjoy a few quiet days here before moving on, but Jemima did have a point.

Vampires couldn't afford to be selfish.

Whoever was turning new vampires was putting everyone at risk, and that affected Ysanne whether she liked it or not. Perhaps that wasn't even the point. Jemima didn't know Phillip or Amelia, she hadn't turned them, but she'd made herself responsible for them anyway because someone had to be.

"I'll think about it," Ysanne said.

Jemima's expression hardened. "Fine. You know where I am if you decide to help."

Ysanne took that to mean she'd been dismissed, and any other time she would have bristled at the younger vampire's tone. But she said nothing.

She was renting rooms at a similar cottage further down the spill of the cliff-face, and she went straight back there, her mind whirling.

When she'd seen those two men following Jemima, her immediate instinct had been to help – she knew exactly how it felt to be at the mercy of men like that, and she would do everything in her power to save other girls from it. But now, when Jemima needed her help with something else, she had balked.

Why?

Was it because saving Jemima had been instinctive?

Ysanne hadn't had to think about it, she'd just done it. But thinking about it wouldn't have changed anything.

What was so different about helping Jemima find whoever was turning these vampires?

Maybe, just maybe, it was because Ysanne was afraid to get close to anyone.

She thought of Adele and Anthoine. She thought of Edmond and the woman she'd seen him with in Ireland. She'd been alone for so long, left behind time and time and time again.

Ysanne slumped onto her bed, resting the back of her hand across her eyes.

Would she really refuse Jemima help because she was afraid they might become friends? Was that what she'd become after so long? Selfish and fearful?

No.

Ysanne sat up.

She couldn't pretend this wasn't happening and she couldn't walk away from it.

She was halfway back to Jemima's cottage when she heard a low, pained moan.

Two shapes stood in the gap between a pair of cottages – a man slumped against the wall and a woman clinging to him, her face buried in his neck. Ysanne smelled blood. The man moaned again, trying to push the woman away, but she growled and shoved him harder against the wall.

Ysanne strode over and wrenched the woman away, holding her at arm's length while she examined the human. His eyes were glazed, blood trickled from the punctures in his neck, and his heart raced with fear and pain, but he wouldn't die.

The vampire snarled and swiped at Ysanne with ragged nails; Ysanne easily deflected the swipe.

"Stop it," she said sharply, giving the woman a shake.

The woman shrank back, the wild look in her eyes coming into focus. "I don't . . . I didn't mean to . . ."

"I know. What's your name?"

"C-Catherine," she stuttered.

"How long has it been since you were turned?"

Catherine stared blankly at her. "I don't understand. What's happening to me?"

Ysanne pulled the semi-conscious man out of the shadows and propped him against the wall of the nearest cottage, where someone would find him. Then she took Catherine's hand and pulled her up the street, towards Jemima's cottage.

"What's the last thing you remember?" she said.

"I . . . I don't know."

"Think."

"There . . . there was a man. He grabbed me and . . ." Real fear shone in Catherine's eyes, still lit red with thirst. "What did he do to me?"

There was no time to cushion the blow.

"He turned you into a vampire," Ysanne said.

Catherine stopped dead. "What?"

Ysanne tugged her hand, forcing Catherine to keep moving.

"Have you seen this man before? Do you know who he was?" she said.

"No, he came out of nowhere –" Catherine broke off in a sudden sob. "This can't be real."

"It is."

Jemima's cottage came into view, white against the darkened cliff-top, and Ysanne pounded on the door. Jemima opened it, and her initial wariness was immediately supplanted by surprise when she saw Catherine.

"What's going on?" she said.

"I've got another one for you." Ysanne walked inside without waiting for an invitation.

She took Catherine into the kitchen and ushered her into a chair. Catherine slumped in the seat, her face blank. Blood was still smeared over her lips and on her chin.

"I think she's only just been turned," Ysanne said.

Jemima's face grew speculative. "So maybe whoever turned her is still close by."

Ysanne turned to Catherine. "Do you remember him biting you?"

Her hand came up to her throat. "I remember pain."

"Did you fight back?"

"I . . ." Tears pooled in Catherine's eyes, and Ysanne bit back a growl of frustration. They didn't have time for this.

Jemima nudged Ysanne out of the way and crouched in front of Catherine, placing a soothing hand on the other woman's knee.

"I know this is difficult, but it's really important that you tell us whatever you can remember. He's done this to other people, and he'll keep doing it unless we can stop him," she said.

Catherine shakily nodded. "I fought back."

Jemima looked up at Ysanne. "If she fought, then he wouldn't have been able to drain her without spilling blood. It would have been messy and that'll make it easier to track him."

"Unless he's had time to wash and change clothes," Ysanne cautioned.

"Do you remember where you were when this happened?" Jemima asked Catherine.

"Doesn't Phillip remember anything?" Ysanne asked.

"He says he was hit from behind and when he woke up the bastard was already trickling blood into his mouth. He didn't even have a chance to fight back."

"But where did it happen?"

Jemima waved a hand. "Somewhere on top of the cliffs, about a mile from here."

"That's where I was," Catherine whispered. "I go up there sometimes to watch the sun set."

Jemima and Ysanne looked at each other.

"I think we need to take a walk along the cliffs," Ysanne said.

Jemima called Phillip and he hurried down the stairs.

"This is Catherine. I need you to take care of her for a while," Jemima said.

"What's going on?"

"We're going after the vampire who did this to you."

His eyes flashed red with anger. "I want to come with you."

"I need you to stay here and look after Catherine and Amelia."

"But I can help."

"You'd be a liability," Ysanne said, and Phillip glared at her.

"I'm sorry, but she's right." Jemima touched Phillip's arm. "We have no idea who we're going up against, but Ysanne and I are a lot older than you. We can handle this, but not if we're distracted by trying to keep you safe."

The red faded from his eyes and he grudgingly nodded.

Jemima jerked her chin towards the kitchen door, and she and Ysanne slipped out of the cottage.

"Will he stay? I don't want to deal with any misplaced heroics," Ysanne said.

"He'll stay."

"Good."

The wind whistled, bringing with it the smell of the sea, and Ysanne looked at where the cliff-top stretched out, black and silent. Waves glittered below, rushing against the rugged cliff-face.

"Well then," she said. "Let's go and hunt a vampire."

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