Believe me, thought Matt. I understand that all too well.

“I’ll be careful,” he said.

Jamie nodded. He didn’t look completely convinced, but he tilted his head back and opened his mouth. As Matt leant in, fangs slid down from his friend’s gums; they gleamed under the fluorescent ceiling light, as a faint flicker of red appeared in the corners of Jamie’s eyes.

Working very slowly, Matt raised the glass jar and positioned it underneath the left fang, resting it against Jamie’s lower lip. He drew the scraper gently down the tooth, pushing clear plasma towards the point until it dripped into the glass jar. He moved across to the other fang, and thirty seconds later, it was done; he withdrew the jar, dropped the scraper into it, and screwed its lid on tight as Jamie closed his mouth and rubbed his jaw.

“All done?”

“Done,” said Matt. “Thanks. Sorry if that was unpleasant.”

“You were right, it felt a bit weird,” said Jamie. “But it’s fine.”

“I appreciate it,” he said. “It should be very helpful.”

Jamie smiled, and got to his feet. “Cool,” he said. “What are you up to for the rest of the day? I assume you’re going back to work?”

“I’m heading down to the labs now,” lied Matt. “What about you?”

“Nothing for a few hours,” said Jamie. “Then Patrol Respond.”

“Good,” he said. “Keep those test subjects coming.”

Jamie smiled. “We’ll do our best. It’s been good to see you, Matt. I know we always say it, but we really don’t see each other often enough. We need to try harder.”

“I know,” he said. “We really do.”

Jamie stepped forward and gave him a brief, tight hug. Matt hugged him back, a smile rising on to his face, until his friend released his grip and walked out of the room. Matt waited two slow minutes, then followed him through the door and headed down the corridor towards the lift.

As he stepped through the open metal doors, his hand moved automatically towards the button marked F, the floor that was home to the Lazarus Project and where he had told Jamie he would be going. He paused, then pressed H and leant against the wall, his momentary good mood drifting rapidly away, replaced by an uneasiness that made his stomach squirm.

“Mr Browning,” said Valentin, a broad smile on his face. “How lovely. Do come in.”

Matt nodded, and walked slowly through the ultraviolet barrier. He did not like voluntarily entering Valentin’s cell; he would happily admit, to anyone who asked, that the ancient vampire scared him, cure or no cure.

After all, he thought, as he crossed the cell and sat down in one of the plastic chairs. There’s no cure for having my head ripped off.

“Tea?” asked Valentin. The vampire was floating a few centimetres off the ground, his mouth curved into a smile that Matt thought looked more hungry than friendly.

“No thanks,” he said.

Valentin nodded. “No time for pleasantries,” he said. “Understood. Let’s get down to business then. What can I do for you?”

Matt took a deep breath. “You know that we’ve developed a cure for vampirism,” he said. “For the second phase of the research, we need to analyse samples from older vampires, those that are the most powerful, so that we can try to reduce the formula’s physical effects. I’m here on behalf of the Director to ask you to give us a sample of the plasma from your fangs, so that we can include it in the research. I’ve been ordered to tell you that it would be highly appreciated.”

Valentin stared at him for a long moment, then burst out laughing; he rocked back and forth in the air, his hands holding his stomach, as pink light spilled into his eyes. Matt felt embarrassed heat rise into his face, as anger bloomed in his gut.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Oh, my dear Mr Browning,” said Valentin, smiling gently at him. “I am sorry. That was unforgivably rude of me. But you just looked so very earnest and your little speech is so well practised that I’m afraid I could not help but laugh, despite the insult.”

Matt frowned. “What insult?”

“The fact that you clearly believe I am extremely stupid.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your story is eminently plausible, Mr Browning,” said Valentin. “And were we not having this conversation inside a secret military installation, I might have been inclined to believe it. But I have been waiting for somebody to come to me with this request since I first heard about the discovery of a cure. I know exactly what you are doing, Mr Browning, because, in all honesty, it would be ridiculous if you weren’t.”

“What am I doing?” asked Matt. “Since you apparently know everything?”

“You are planning to turn your Operator colleagues into vampires,” said Valentin. “You have a cure, which means you can return them to normal after the battle with Dracula is fought, and an army of vampires will help you even the odds. But you want them to be as powerful as possible, and Miss Kinley’s departure leaves you only two realistic options. So you intend to test Mr Carpenter and myself, to see whose version of the vampire virus will be more effective in terms of creating supernatural Operators. Am I broadly correct?”

Matt stared, his eyes wide. “Did someone talk to you?” he said. “You have to tell me if they did. This is beyond classified.”

Valentin frowned, then shook his head. “Nobody talked to me, Mr Browning,” he said. “I worked it out all on my own, remarkably enough.”

“Then how did you know?” asked Matt. He could hear something close to panic in his voice. “How?”

“Because I would do exactly the same thing in your position,” said Valentin. “I was a General for a great many years, Mr Browning. I led thousands of men into more battles than you can imagine, and I have forgotten more about military strategy and tactics than anyone in this building will ever know. It would be irresponsible for you not to at least try and use the discovery of a cure to your advantage.”

“So you’ll help us?” asked Matt.

Valentin smiled. “I will help you by saving you a great deal of time huddled over test tubes and computers. Jamie is powerful, remarkably so for one so young, and his strength and speed will only increase as the years pass, but I was turned more than five hundred years ago. There are only two men left on earth who could produce vampires more powerful than me, and I doubt either of them will be inclined to help you.”

Dracula and the first victim, thought Matt. He’s right about that.

“So that answers your question, Mr Browning,” continued Valentin. “And leads us to another, which is far more important. The question of whether I am inclined to assist you.”

Matt frowned. “Why wouldn’t you?” he asked. “You clearly see the strategic value of what we’re doing, and I know you don’t want to see Dracula victorious. So what would it gain you not to help us?”

“What will it gain me if I do?” asked Valentin, his smile wide and shark-like.

“I don’t have the authority to offer you anything,” said Matt. “I’ll have to talk to the Director.”

“Of course you will,” said the vampire. “And I am sure he will give you a list of trinkets and favours to tempt me with, so let me spare your legs the back and forth. I will help you, but my conditions for doing so are not open for negotiation. This is a take-it-or-leave-it offer, Mr Browning. Is that clear?”

Matt nodded. “I understand,” he said. “Tell me what you want.”

“I will not let you scrape the liquid from my fangs like a snake being milked for its venom,” said Valentin. “I can think of nothing less dignified. I will turn as many of your Operators as you wish, but only if I am allowed to bite them myself. It has been far too long since I tasted human blood, so this will work out well for everyone.”

Ice crackled up Matt’s spine. The vampire’s voice had deepened and thickened, and his easy-going charm was gone, replaced by a cruel, animal hunger.