‘I haven’t checked your blood yet,’ said Stacy. ‘If there’s less lupine in you than in the regular newbloods, the serum may be less effective.’

‘Consider me a guinea-pig,’ Tom said. ‘I feel the blood cravings, doctor, believe me. If there’s a way to suppress that, I’ll take it.’

Stacy looked uncertain for a moment, then nodded. ‘Why don’t you try to get some rest first, huh? You look dead on your feet, and it’s going to take a while to do these tests on Rico.’ She smiled. ‘I’ll fix you a dose of serum for when you wake up.’

Tom yawned and nodded. ‘I guess it has been a long night.’

g

Kate was catnapping on a hospital trolley that seemed skinnier than she was; she was afraid even to turn over in case she fell out. Her head rustled every time she moved, since her hair was covered by a plastic bag. The henna stank, and she was dreading seeing what she might see in the mirror when she was done.

Whatever, it had to be better than the stuff she was seeing in her restless dreams. Stacy had cordoned off a section in one of the wards so she could get a few hours’ rest in private. But each time she dozed she found herself back at the arena, Swagger’s big, sweaty body beside her, the violence in the rink being re-enacted again and again.

A cellphone rang close by and she sat up bolt upright. When the tinny melody clicked off she heard Jasmine’s voice answer, sleepy and irritable. She must’ve been getting some rest here too.

‘Polar? Jesus, it’s a miracle! He has a voice!’

Kate felt her stomach twist. Polar had been monitoring the radio, was he calling with news of Tom’s parents?

‘A guy? What guy? Say his name again? Zhee-khaki? Hey, I heard of him …’

Kate was wide-awake now. She jumped off her narrow bunk, tried to follow Jasmine’s voice. ‘Did he say Jicaque? Keep him on the line.’ She yanked aside a curtain and exposed some grouchy old woman getting a shot in the ass from a nervous-looking medic. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she muttered, pulling it straight back across and moving on. ‘Jasmine! Keep him on the line, let me talk to him.’

She found the girl at last, a few cubicles down. As Kate watched, Jasmine killed the call with a precise press of her finger.

‘Well, look at the state of you,’ smirked Jasmine. ‘Bag on your head’s a nice touch. No cop’s ever gonna recognise you now.’

‘Why d’you ring off?’ Kate demanded, ignoring her. ‘Didn’t you hear me?’