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as human.   And let me add, had I not...you would not have got your location of the wizard."  
    "And you believe this makes you better suited to the task than Mr South?" asked Mr Magellan.   His tone was slightly calmer now, less aggressive.   That meant he was plotting, but that was alright.   West wanted him to plot.
    "I do,” West replied. “I can blend into this world far better than any of you.   Mr South can organise the search of the wizard's apartment, his lab, wherever he might have left it."
    "That's not so easy.   The elves..."
    "Think creatively," said Mr West, tapping the side of his head.   "Make use of our agents."
    Mr South scowled but Mr West knew he was right.   They had enough indigenous operatives in Venefasia that they could assign one of them to it.   Even Magellan seemed to be considering his proposal, his hand stroking his beard.
    "One other thing," West added.   "Give me a remit to do whatever it takes."
    "A remit which includes breaking laws hundreds of years old?"
    "Let me do this my way, Mr Magellan," West pleaded.   "If I fail, you can bring me before the Dictatoriat on charges of heresy and not lose any grace with the Planners.   Indeed, they'll probably amend your fate for being such a loyal subject and bringing me before them.   But, if I succeed then the Planners will not need to know of our methods.   They will only care about our results."
    "You would condemn all our fates with your heresy," spat Mr South.  
    "Why, thank you for your vote of confidence, Mr South," he retorted.   "As I remember it, I believe it was you who bodged up retrieving the notebook.   Maybe we should do it your way and have your descendant's fates downgraded to compensate the Dictatoriat for your failings."
    Mr South shrank back.   Definitely some heretics in his ancestors, thought Mr West.   The others looked nervously at each other.   Any possible rebellion had been quelled.
    "All right, Mr West," Magellan spoke up.   "But if you fail, I will have no second thoughts about bringing you before the Dictatoriat."
    Mr West smiled.   "I wouldn't expect any less," he said.   He wouldn't fail.   He knew this world better than anyone on the operation and now he had his colleagues on his side, he felt the war was already half won.
    "What do you propose to do?" Mr East asked.
    "I think," said Mr West, walking over to the door and opening it, "that the vampires are in for a very rough night."

CHAPTER FOUR - The Morality Of Hunger

    Darwin and Cassidy sat in a bus shelter eating chips.   Well, at least Cassidy did; the only thing that could nourish Darwin now would be fresh blood.   His come down from the Blood Lust had left him with a headache and whilst he'd picked at some of her chips it hadn't made him feel any better.
    It had finally stopped snowing, the pavement and road beyond a sea of even white.   It seemed to muffle everything, and for the first time since he'd come back to the city, it was silent.   No hum of traffic, no call of horns.   It was as if everyone had left the world, leaving just the pair of them.
    "We should make snow angels," enthused Cassidy shoving food into her mouth.   "Or a snowman."
    Darwin looked at her with a raised eyebrow.   "Don't you think we're a little old to be building snowmen?"
    "Never too old," Cassidy replied between handfuls of chips.   "Life's for living."
    He sighed.   He'd hardly call this living.   Reaching into her coat pocket he pulled out the notebook they'd taken and started flicking through the pages.   He'd expected to find a diary or a ledger but flicking through the notebook's pages, he began to notice something odd.   Page after page was filled with mathematical calculations and letters in a language Darwin hadn't seen in a long time.
    "Whatisit?" Cassidy asked looking over.
    "Elvish," Darwin replied.
    Cassidy looked perplexed.   "Elvish?   Are you sure?"
    "Yeah, I'm not very good at reading it, but this word here," he said