“And you,” Tanish beamed. “You’ll remember these two.”

“Larten and Wester,” Jordan nodded. “We feasted heartily last time, aye?”

The pair chuckled at the memory, although Wester looked somewhat ashamed. He had overindulged on that occasion and been violently sick afterwards.

“These are Yebba and Zula Pone,” Tanish said.

“Yebba has a nose like a hound and Zula is a villain of the highest order. You’ll get along well.” The vampires shook hands, then moved forward to greet the rest of the pack. It wasn’t long before they were guzzling ale and swapping tales of their adventures.

War packs were a relatively new phenomenon.

Vampires had tended to stay out of the way of warring humans in the past, not drawing attention to themselves. But there were so many wars being fought now, on such a massive scale, that the night-walkers could mingle freely with human troops in most places. The Cubs had started frequenting battlefields several decades earlier and now it was a common part of their lives. A lone vampire could nearly always be assured of finding company in a war zone.

Larten listened happily to the stories of Jordan and the others, and told some of his own in return. There was much laughter when Tanish told them of the trick he had played the previous night, and Larten had to take off his jacket and shirt to show his sunburned back. He had already recovered from the worst of the burning, but his skin was stil sore to the touch and a few of the vampires slapped him and hooted when he screeched. He had to knock a couple of heads together before they left him alone, but it was all done in good spirits.

The next bout between the armies wasn’t due to start until late in the morning — both sides were waiting for fresh recruits. So the pack turned in when the sun rose and caught some sleep. When they were awakened by the sound of gunfire, they groaned, stretched, took umbrellas from a large sack and set off to find the battle.