‘All right, all right. I’m coming …’ A bolt was thrown, then another; then a third. Finally the door opened to reveal a singularly unimpressive little man, half-dressed in a chunky brown cardigan with nothing beneath it and a pair of striped pyjama bottoms. He stared out at them blearily. His grey hair was mussed up in a dozen different directions, a wild frame for his lined and haggard face. There was a droopy look about him –as if his face and body were giving up to gravity even as you watched. But his eyes were an arresting amber colour. They transfixed you, even though clouded by sleep and drink and God knew what else.

‘Hey, Doc,’ said Jasmine. ‘We need you to take a look at Rico.’

Woollard glanced down at the boy then back to Jasmine. ‘OK, I’ve seen him. Now would you mind leaving me in peace?’ His voice was gravelly but he had a refined accent, British maybe. It reminded Tom of Adam Blood’s, though that posh voice had been a put-on, a front to impress customers. Something told Tom that this man’s accent was the real thing.

Jasmine seemed unfazed by Woollard’s attitude. ‘He’s got a howler bite, Doc, remember?’

Woollard knitted his brows together as if trying to recall. ‘Rico … bite …’ He clicked his fingers and swayed drunkenly in the doorway. ‘Yes, of course. Rico, our little resister. Very interesting ...’

‘He’s just had a real bad asthma attack, too, choking and no breath, and all kinds of shit,’ Jasmine persisted.

Woollard seemed to lose interest and began mumbling to himself. ‘I’m going back to bed,’ he announced grumpily.

‘Please?’ Jasmine opened her beautiful eyes as wide as they’d go. ‘I did bring you a real big bottle of JD last time.’ She smiled craftily. ‘And I might again.’

Woollard’s eyes lit up like cigarette-ends. ‘Perhaps I am being a little ungracious,’ he said. ‘Come inside.’ With that he turned and shambled from view.

Jasmine ushered Rico inside then turned to Tom. ‘As doctors go, he’s cheap.’

Tom frowned. ‘He looks like he could use a little medical attention himself. You’re really going to let him examine Rico while he’s in that state?’

‘Listen, the sooner we get Rico checked out, the sooner we get you back to your prissy little girlfriend, OK?’

Tom couldn’t fault that logic, and followed her into the squalid little apartment. It reeked of whisky and garlic, and there must’ve been a dozen crucifixes arranged around the walls of the entrance hall. ‘He’s expecting vampires?’ Tom asked quietly.

Jasmine pulled out a cellphone. ‘When you’ve drunk as much as he has, guess you don’t know just what you’re gonna see next.’

Tom nodded to the phone. ‘Are you calling Ramone?’