The Mammoth Book Of Vampire Stories Written By Women

Sarah heard, just before all hell broke loose, Laura's voice, firm and even, say: "Do not touch her." Then she was knocked back on the stairs by a flurry of black leather and she was aware only of bloody-eyed, pale-skinned figures flocking past her. And teeth. She saw each leering mouth as if in slow motion, dark lips peeled back to reveal teeth so white they might have been sculpted from ice.

She thought she saw Laura among them and tried to grab hold of her jumper but she was left clutching air as the scrum piled into the hallway, whooping and screaming like a gang of kids let out early from school. When the shooting started she couldn't tell if the screaming had changed in pitch at all, whether it had become more panicked. But at the top of the stairs she realized she was responsible for most of it. There appeared to be some kind of stand-off. Manser, the fetid little sniffer dog of a man, was waving a gun around while his henchman clenched and unclenched his hands, eyeing up the opposition, which was substantial. Sarah studied them properly for the first time, these women who had rescued her baby and left her to die in the car. And yet proper examination was beyond her. There were four of them, she thought. Maybe five. They moved around and against each other so swiftly, so lissomely that she couldn't be sure. They were like a flesh knot. Eyes fast on their enemy, they guarded each other with this mesmerizing display. It was so seamless it could have been choreographed.

But now she saw that they were not just protecting each other. There was someone at the heart of the knot, appearing and disappearing in little ribbons and teasers of colour. Sarah need see only a portion of face to know they were wrapped around her daughter.

"Laura," she said again.

Manser said, "Who the fuck are these clowns? Have we just walked into Goth night down the local student bar, or what?"

"Laura," Sarah said again, ignoring her pursuer. "Come here."

"Everyone just stand back. I'm having the girl. And to show you I'm not just pissing in my paddling pool" Manser took aim and shot one of the women through the forehead.

Sarah covered her mouth as the woman dropped. The three others seemed to fade somewhat, as if their strength had been affected.

"Jez," said Manser. "Get the girl."

Sarah leaped at Knowlden as he strode into the pack but a stiff arm across her chest knocked her back against the wall, winding her. He extricated Laura from her guardians and dragged her kicking back to his boss.

Manser was nodding his head. "Nice work, Jez. You can have jelly for afters tonight. Get her outside."

To Sarah he said, "Give her up." And then he was gone.

Slumped on the floor, Sarah tried to blink a fresh trickle of blood from her eyes. Through the fluid, she thought she could see the women crowding around their companion. She thought she could see them lifting her head as they positioned themselves around her. But no. No. She couldn't accept that she was seeing what they began to do to her then.

Knowlden fell off the pace as they ran towards the car. Manser was half dragging, half carrying Laura who was thrashing around in his arms.

"I'm nearly ready," she said. "I'll bite you! I'll bite you, I swear to God."

"And I'll scratch your eyes out," Manser retorted. "Now shut the fuck up. Jesus, can't you do what girls your age do in the movies? Faint, or something?"

At the car, he bundled her into the boot and locked it shut. Then he fell against the side of the car and tried to control his breathing. He could just see Knowlden plodding towards him in the dark. Manser could hear his squealing lungs even though he had another forty metres or so to cover.

"Come on Jez, for fuck's sake! I've seen mascara run faster thah that."

At thirty metres, Manser had a clearer view of his driver as he died.

One of the women they had left behind in the house was moving across the field at a speed that defied logic. Her hands were outstretched and her nails glinted like polished arrowheads. Manser moved quickly himself when he saw how she slammed into his chauffeur. He was in third gear before he realized he hadn't taken the handbrake off and he was laughing harder than he had ever laughed in his life. Knowlden's heart had been skewered on the end of her claws like a piece of meat on a kebab. He didn't stop laughing until he hit the Ml, southbound.

Knowlden was forgotten. All he had on his mind now was Laura, naked on the slab, her body marked out like the charts on a butcher's wall.