Sarah got up like a robot and moved down the aisle. The faces of the other passengers seemed vividly alive, their cheeks rich with blood. Sarah knew that this was an early sign of her own hunger. In a week, she would need to feed again. She’d try to stave it off, as she always did, with the blood she bought from the little blood bank on Thirtieth Street.

“I need a colder bottle,” she said to the steward.

“Of course, mademoiselle.” He drew a new one out of the refrigeration unit in his cart, put the old one in.

She took it back to their seats and poured Miriam another drink, then sat down. “I want to help you,” she said.

“You’re dangerously incompetent.”

“I’m the best you’ve got!”

“For the while,” Miriam said, her voice almost indifferent, as if the subject was no more than dull.

A shock passed through Sarah. “If you’d tell me what I’ve done—”

“I called you and called you.”

“You’ve told me that fifty times! But you have to tell me what happened. Why did you need me? Why are we running like this? Miriam, for the love of God, what’s happening?”

The pitch of the engines changed, followed by the angle of approach. “Finally,” Miriam said, “you agree that you’ve proved yourself hopelessly incompetent.”

Sarah nodded.

“So you agree that I can’t take the risk of relying on you.”

Sarah nodded again, and this time tears sprayed her breast. “Miriam, no matter what you decide —”

“It’s decided.”

“At a time like this, you need me. Whatever it is, I can help. I can correct my mistakes and do better.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“You’re being chased. We’ve got to get you out of the house. Hide you.”

“Do we?”

The plane roared, made a steep turn into its final approach. “It’s all right,” Sarah said automatically, “everything’s fine.”

The steward reminded them to place their seat backs upright and fasten their seat belts. He came past and collected the vodka. “Will Madame be wanting a wheelchair?” he asked.

“Mademoiselle will not,” Miriam said.

A short time later, the plane was drawing up to the gate. The moment it stopped, Sarah stepped into the aisle in order to prevent any passengers behind them from pushing past Miriam or impeding her way.

As far as the world knew, two resplendently beautiful young women stepped off the plane, one discreetly attentive to her companion, who walked with her cool gray eyes fixed to the middle distance, emeralds and gold glowing around her neck, a wide-brimmed Philippe Model hat on her head. The other girl might have been a friend, slightly less wealthy, or even an indulged secretary or servant. Indulged, because she was so well kept herself, with her superbly tailored green peau de soie suit and her fashionably tousled hair.