The Iron in Blood

"Much better, thanks." She looked at me carefully and nodded.

"You look a lot better. You've got some colour in your cheeks now. Amazing what a morning in bed can do." And half a pint of blood to drink, I thought, smiling inwardly. What a bizarre day. All I wanted to do was go upstairs and curl up in bed so I could think, but Mum wanted to talk about her day. She went into the kitchen, chattering away about some man that she'd met at work. I made encouraging noises, and asked questions at the right points in the conversation. She didn't even notice that my cast had been replaced by a knee brace. Mark appeared in the doorway after a few minutes.

"Hey Mum," he said. "Broccoli cheese tonight?" He grinned sideways at me. I pulled a face.

"Sounds lovely!" Mum wasn't fussy.

Joe arrived shortly afterwards, and we ate our supper and drank tea and watched some crime drama on television. I excused myself just after nine, pleading exhaustion, and crawled into bed. I had anticipated this moment all evening, and was looking forward to thinking it all through, but I fell asleep within minutes of putting my head down, and the last thing on my mind as I drifted off was the feel of Angus' body against mine.

Angus

Fergus phoned me at about nine. I was grateful for the interruption. My house was beginning to feel eerily empty without the Hardings. Even the kitten had disappeared.

"How did she take it?" That was Fergus. No preliminaries. Hello was a word that happened to other people. I grinned. I missed my brothers.

"Surprisingly well actually. Her brother was here, and I had to tell him too." I explained how I had found Rebecca dying, and what I had had to do to bring her back. I described Mark's levelheadedness, and his easy acceptance of a peculiar situation.

"Hmmm," said Fergus.

"No." I said it flatly, with finality. I knew what they would think - that Mark knew too much and would need to be eliminated. I liked and admired that boy, and I'd felt his determination to keep our secret. I wasn't about to kill him, or allow him to be killed. "My cat likes him."

"As long as you're sure you know what you're doing." I smiled. I had been expecting them to put up more of a fight.

"So what is she like?" Marcus interrupted impatiently.

I hesitated for a few seconds, wondering how honest my reply should be. I decided to throw caution to the winds. My brothers would know eventually anyway.