Free Midnight's Choice by Kate Thompson Page A

dinner roasting in the oven. But her companion kept well away from anyone else on the street, and she decided to stay close. The two of them let everything pass them by, like lions walking peacefully through a herd of small game, their attention fixed on better things.
    â€˜Why the docks?’ said Tess, as they first came in sight of the river.
    â€˜Good hunting ground,’ said Martin.
    â€˜But we’ve passed plenty of possibilities,’ said Tess. ‘What’s so special about the docks?’
    â€˜Dark, for one thing,’ said Martin. ‘And for another thing, who wants to drink the blood of boozers and dossers? It’s weak and impure. Gives me a headache.’
    Tess looked at him carefully, but he didn’t appear to be joking. He pulled up his coat collar as he stepped on to the bridge and, aware of the bright street lights all the way across, Tess followed suit.
    On the other side of the river they turned right. A few cars were parked beside the road, and in one of them two men were sitting. Tess glanced through the window as she passed by. One of the men was reading a newspaper, the other was pulling absently at the crease in his trousers.
    â€˜No good?’ she said to Martin as they walked on.
    â€˜Cops,’ he said. ‘Plain clothes. Not bad, if you like cholesterol.’
    Tess peered into his shaded eyes and he grinned at her. This time he was joking.
    â€˜My tastes aren’t that refined,’ he said. ‘Not yet, anyway. Too much light, though. Be patient.’
    They walked on until they came to the first of the ships moored up against the river wall, then crossed over the road and turned up a dark side-street.
    â€˜Now we’re in good hunting grounds,’ said Martin. He slowed the pace a bit and became more watchful, looking casually but carefully into parked cars and checking out the yards that opened off the street. On the corner, a man and a woman were sitting in a high-bodied van. They looked anxiously at the two Switchers as they passed. Martin took no notice of them.
    â€˜Dealers,’ he said. ‘Small fry, though. They use drugs themselves, just deal to feed their habit. If you could get the guy who supplies them, now, you’d be on to a good thing.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Because they’re usually clean, those fellows. Too careful to get mixed up in the stuff themselves.’ He chuckled to himself in a manner that Tess might have found sinister on another occasion, then went on, ‘I’ve had a good guzzle or two on that kind. Very clean, they tend to be. Very well fed.’
    â€˜Why don’t we wait here, then?’ said Tess. ‘Someone’s going to come and supply those two in the van, aren’t they?’
    â€˜I doubt it. That’s what the cops are thinking, too. That’s why they’re there. But the big fish are too smart to get copped that easily. They’re somewhere else, you can be sure, laughing their heads off at this lot.’
    Tess shrugged and kept pace with Martin as he strode through the streets, always seeking out the darkest ones. As they turned yet another corner, they caught a glimpse of a woman in high heels running across the junction at the other end. Tess’s hopes rose. She knew that the two of them could have been on her in a few powerful strides, like greyhounds on a hare, but once again Martin shook his head.
    Tess was beginning to lose patience. ‘Why not?’ she said. ‘What on earth was wrong with that one?’
    â€˜Nothing, as far as I know,’ said Martin. ‘But why run when you don’t have to? It’s undignified.’
    â€˜What do I care about dignity?’ said Tess. ‘I’m hungry.’
    Martin stopped abruptly and swung around to face her. ‘Hungry?’ he said. ‘What do you know of the hunger of a vampire, eh? I mean the real hunger, not your pathetic peckishness?’
    Tess felt her lips draw