City of Magic: The Complete Series by Helen Harper (book club recommendations TXT) 📕

every spare inch of space. If we’d been on our own it would have been difficult; carrying the pilot – and trying not to jostle him too much – meant that our progress was very slow indeed. Still, I was heartened when a couple of people stopped and asked us if we needed help. Monroe might have snarled at them in response, but it pleased me that humanity still possessed a warm pulse of kindness. I smiled and thanked each Samaritan, and I glared at Monroe when he huffed at them.

Somehow we made it with time to spare. A steady stream of people were queuing in front of us and, worryingly, being met by officials with clipboards. It wasn’t actually the clipboards that concerned me, it was the head-to-toe hazmat suits that were terrifying. Was magic contagious? Given what the sphere had done to me, it was certainly possible.

The evacuees were directed to a large tent to the left of the motorway. There were no helicopters overhead – no doubt they’d already learned that tragic lesson – but there were plenty of soldiers and tanks and guns waiting not far beyond us. Very big guns. I swallowed. Suddenly all this shit seemed very real indeed.

When it was our turn, a pair of eyes shielded by plastic blinked at us and a muffled voice from beyond the hazmat helmet asked, ‘Name and date of birth?’

I shook my head. ‘We’re not leaving.’ I pointed at the unmoving pilot. ‘We’re giving you him. He needs urgent medical attention.’

The slightly blurry eyes flicked downwards then a gloved hand rose and he yelled, ‘We need help here!’

Several more white-suited figures jogged up. The nearest one started barking questions while the others grabbed our makeshift stretcher and took the pilot away. I watched him go. I didn’t know anything about him, I didn’t even know his name, but I really hoped he was going to make it.

‘What happened?’

‘Who is he?’

‘How long was he in the contamination zone for?’

My head swivelled from figure to figure. Contamination zone? Was that the best name they could think of for Manchester nowadays? I licked my lips, ready to answer as best as I could, but Monroe reached for me and hauled me back. A split second later there were several shouts and the sound of running feet. From round the back of the large tent, a group of people appeared. They weren’t wearing camouflage or white suits with big helmets, and they were strolling calmly towards the border and ignoring the guns that were suddenly pointed in their direction.

‘They must be looking for lost relatives,’ I blurted out without thinking.

Monroe tutted in my ear and pulled me against him, one arm tight around my waist. ‘Don’t be so fucking naïve.’

I wriggled against his grip. ‘But…’

‘Look again.’

I frowned and peered. There was something oddly familiar about the group. They looked very similar to… ‘Julie,’ I gasped.

‘Probably her long-lost relatives,’ Monroe muttered.

‘Vampires?’ I gaped. ‘There must be thirty of them!’

‘Try forty-three.’ He pulled me further back until we were shielded out of sight of the still-waiting evacuees. We watched as the undead posse strolled forward without a care in the world, as if several hundred gigantic guns weren’t currently pointing in their direction.

‘Halt!’

The vampires ignored the yelled command and kept on walking. It was only when they drew level with the tent that one of them pulled ahead. He had slicked-back hair and an old-fashioned tweed suit; he was even carrying a large suitcase. With dawning realisation, I finally twigged what was going on.

‘We want in,’ he said in a loud voice with a strong northern accent. Apparently vampires live in rural Yorkshire. Who knew? ‘We demand to be allowed access.’

Six hazmat-covered figures marched in front of the group; five of them were carrying guns.

‘Do bullets hurt vampires?’ I whispered to Monroe.

‘They did before all this,’ he said back. ‘But what things are like for the fanged bastards now is anybody’s guess.’

As if to add credence to Monroe’s words, the lead vampire smiled slowly with closed lips and raised his hands. He turned them around slowly, as if seeing them for the first time. ‘Even here on the outskirts of the city I can feel the difference,’ he murmured. ‘The buzz of magic is extraordinary.’

He opened his mouth and displayed a set of very sharp, very white fangs. The vampires behind him did the same.

‘Well,’ I muttered, ‘that’s not creepy at all.’

Apparently I wasn’t the only one fazed by the performance. ‘You cannot enter,’ said one of the soldiers, with a tremor in his voice that his helmet couldn’t disguise.

‘Do you really think you can stop us?’ the vampire enquired. ‘Why would you want to?’

The bloodsucker made a good point. He’d already revealed himself to be a monster. Surely Monster Manchester would be the ideal place for him and his kind. Not that I wanted them here. Hell, I’d prefer them to be as far away from me as possible.

‘If you are letting them in,’ declared another loud voice, this time in a Geordie accent as if every corner of the country was demanding to be recognised, ‘you must grant us access too.’

By my side, Monroe sucked in a sharp breath. I glanced at him. For the first time since he’d shifted back into human form in my spare bedroom, he looked ashen.

‘What is it?’

He ignored me and stepped away, striding up to the nearest soldiers. As a second group of about twenty people came into view, they all raised their heads and sniffed the air before looking directly at Monroe. As if they were one amorphous mass rather than distinct individuals, they inclined their heads in a gesture that could only be described as respect. My mouth dropped open.

‘Werewolves,’ I whispered. ‘I bet they’re all werewolves.’

I flicked my eyes from left to right. Any minute now, dragons, leprechauns, trolls, wizards, bunyips and magical fuckers from every part of the world were about to show up. I rubbed my eyes. Talk about