The Reformed Vampire Support Group by Catherine Jinks Page B

not saying that,’ he murmured. ‘I just think we should be prepared.’
    ‘In case our killer doesn’t believe Father Ramon?’ I asked, jerking my chin at the priest. As Dave hesitated, I had a flash of inspiration. ‘Even if this guy doesn’t think we’re vampires, he’ll think we’re vampire supporters. And any vampires with friends like us
must
be harmless,’ I argued. When Dave didn’t answer, I shrugged. ‘Maybe you don’t agree,’ I said, turning away from him, ‘but whateverhappens, you ought to shave. Without all that hair you won’t look so suspicious.’
    Dave’s mouth twisted. ‘Gee, thanks,’ he said dryly.
    ‘It’s true. Scrubby chins are for B-grade villains. You must have noticed.’ Then I spotted the fuel-gauge dial. ‘We’re getting a bit low on petrol, Dave.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘We’ll have to stop at the next town.’
    Luckily, the next town boasted an all-night service station, with a well-lit convenience store attached. As we pulled up beside a vacant pump, I stared in astonishment at the gigantic road train that was sitting nearby. Never before had I been so close to such a large vehicle.
    It felt as if we’d parked next to a cruise liner.
    ‘Have you done this before?’ I inquired of Dave, overwhelmed by all the bright lights, big trucks and oily smells. Dave must have understood that I wasn’t thinking clearly – that I was confused by the unfamiliar surroundings. Because he said, very kindly, ‘I’ve got my own car, Nina.’
    ‘Oh. Yeah. Of course.’
    ‘Do you think we should wake Father Ramon?’
    We both surveyed the priest, who was still snoring away. It seemed a shame to disturb him. ‘He probably wouldn’t thank us,’ was my conclusion, and Dave agreed. But when he reached for the doorhandle, I caught his arm.
    ‘Do you think – I mean – can I go too?’
    He hesitated.
    ‘Come on, Dave. Please? I haven’t been to the shops for
months
.’
    You may be wondering why I had to ask permission – and why Dave seemed so reluctant to oblige. The reason is simple: I hadn’t been blooded. And although I’ve already mentioned blooding, Ididn’t really explain how important it is. You see, once you give in to that first impulse, and fang someone, you’re in trouble. You could fall off the wagon again at any time. According to Horace, the memory of that initial buzz stays with you; you’re like a heroin addict. But if you resist, you’ll never face the same degree of temptation ever again. Resistance gets easier and easier. That’s what Sanford says, anyway, and I believe him. After all, he’s had a hundred years of experience.
    Horace was blooded just before he bit Sanford. Gladys was blooded at the Magdalene hospital; she fanged Bridget after a woman gave birth nearby. Bridget herself was blooded when she witnessed an accidental knife cut in the convent kitchen. But unlike Gladys, Bridget stood firm.
    And she wasn’t the only one.
    There are many theories as to why some vampires withstand the urge to infect people and some don’t. Sanford maintains that he never succumbed because he had the support of his wife. He says that Bridget was able to control herself owing to her very strong religious faith; she was accustomed to fighting what she called ‘the devil’s snares’. And Dave was lucky. His blooding took place the morning after he was infected, while he was staggering home. Though he passed another Saturday-night casualty on his way – a man who was bleeding from a split lip – Dave was still strong enough to ignore his own sudden, irrational desire to attack the guy’s jugular vein.
    That’s why Sanford doesn’t worry about Dave the way he worries about Horace and Gladys and George, who aren’t allowed to go anywhere unless they’re accompanied by another, more reliable vampire. Gladys, for instance, has to take Bridget with her everywhere. Sanford and Dave are meant to be keeping a close eye on George and Horace. Casimir was always a