Uprising

Chapter Twenty-Five

‘You can trust Rudi Bertolino,’ Alex was saying to Rumble on her phone. She was standing on the kerbside a few yards from The Last Bite, watching the St James’s Street traffic roar by. ‘He’s always come through for me, you know that.’

‘It’s not that I don’t trust your informant,’ Rumble said. ‘I just don’t like mysteries. And with all the rogue activity that’s been going on I don’t want you going in there alone with a rookie agent.’

‘I’m on the clock here, Harry. Who’ve you got in the area?’

A pause, and she could hear Rumble clicking laptop keys in his quiet office.

‘Okay. I’m sending Mundhra and Becker. They’ll meet you at the RV point.’

‘Copy that. You’re a star, Harry.’ Alex flipped her phone shut. ‘Rumble’s sending the troops in,’ she said to Greg. ‘Let’s get back to the car.’

The Jaguar was parked up a sidestreet, less than two minutes’ walk away. They headed up past Davidoff cigars and the Beretta boutique, a quiet stretch of street between the crowds around Rudi’s place and the hustle of Piccadilly. What seemed to be a pile of rags was lying on a doorstep. As they walked by, Alex saw it was a young homeless woman. The coat draped over her sleeping form was full of holes, and all her possessions were stuffed into a Tesco shopping bag next to her. Her hands and face looked emaciated, already prematurely aged from the life on the streets. Alex halted and gazed down at her.

‘You’re not going to…’ Greg said.

‘Feed from her?’ Alex shook her head. ‘They’re easy, but most of them are too messed up with alcohol and drugs. Bad blood.’ She sighed. ‘No, I was just thinking how I almost feel sad for humans sometimes. Look at her.’

They walked on, and turned into the sidestreet where the Jag was parked. They were within twenty yards of it when three youths stepped out of a shadowy doorway and came right up to them, blocking the pavement.

Alex sized them up. They weren’t asking for directions. The leader was the gangly white kid in the middle. He was grinning at her through a straggly moustache, and the matted dreadlocks plastered over his ears made him look like a spaniel. He reached into the pocket of his hoodie. Alex followed the movement and saw the cheap kitchen knife flash in his hand.

‘Evening, folks. Let’s have your money.’ He ran his eye appreciatively up and down Alex’s figure. His gaze settled on the Tag Heuer watch on her wrist. His grin widened. ‘That’s a grand’s worth of watch the rich bitch is wearing,’ he said to his cronies.

Alex turned to Greg. ‘Now these specimens, on the other hand, I don’t have too much sympathy for.’

‘Shut the fuck up and give me your fucking money!’

Alex looked at him levelly. ‘I don’t think so, Dog Boy.’

‘What did you call me?’

‘You’re going to look really funny with that knife sticking out of your arse.’

Dog Boy wagged the knife in Alex’s face. ‘I’ll fucking kill you, bitch.’

‘Too late,’ she said, looking impassively at the blade. ‘I’m already dead.’

‘Wha—’

Before he could say any more, Alex had whipped the knife out of his hand and sent him flying over the bonnet of a parked Range Rover. As he scrambled desperately to his feet, his two friends turned and took to their heels.

‘Not so fast, Dog Boy.’ Alex grabbed him by his dreadlocks, picked him clear off the ground with one hand and held him there so that his feet flailed in mid-air. Ignoring his frantic struggles, she turned to Greg. ‘Here’s your opportunity.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What do you think I mean? It’s time.’

Greg looked pained. ‘What, here?’

‘This is how it works, Greg. We’ve been doing it this way for thousands of years.

Just watch me, okay?’ She could feel her fangs fully extended, pressing against her lips as she moved in close to the mugger’s neck. He smelled unwashed, but all her senses were tuned into the blood pulsing just under his skin, in the canals of his veins.

Throbbing. Luscious. Life-giving.

He squirmed and squealed like a trapped rat as her bite punctured his flesh. A few moments of delicious, gasping, teasing anticipation, more than erotic in its intensity, before the blood began to flow. Then she sucked and the warm juice was running over her tongue, trickling down her throat. She held him tight and sucked harder. It had been a long time since her last proper feed. Already she could feel her strength returning as she drank in the human’s life energy.

She drank until she felt the mugger’s body going limp in her grip, then pulled away with an effort. She wiped the blood off her lips, shoved him into Greg’s hands.

‘Now it’s your turn.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You have to. Do what I did. It’s easy.’

‘It’s pretty horrible.’

‘It’s as natural as swimming is to a shark, Greg. You need to learn, or you’re not going to make it.’

‘I know. But some other time, okay?’

Alex sighed. ‘Fine. Prop him up against the wall there.’ She dropped down on her haunches, took the syringe of Vambloc from its case and jabbed it into the human’s neck. He twitched, then slumped sideways and his head hit the pavement.

‘Now we’re good to go,’ she said.

The Jag was just up the street.

‘I’ve let you down, haven’t I?’ Greg muttered as they climbed into the car.

‘Forget it.’ Alex took off, pulled out into St James’s and left snakes of rubber on the road heading up the hill towards Piccadilly.