Kate has barely said two words since we left the farmhouse. She looks tense. I should feel the same, but I don’t. How can I? I’ve felt like a prisoner in that dump, and now I’m taking a drive. It’s just a shame it’s to steal some blood and not to sunbathe on the beach.
We pull up outside the supermarket to pick up a mini-fridge to keep the blood fresh, a microwave to warm it, and a few other bits and bobs. We’re parked right at the back of the car park, far away from the shop doors. I suppose I better get used to hiding in the darkness, away from ordinary people.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Kate warns me as she nervously climbs out of the car. “I mean it.”
“I won’t,” I reply. “I’m not stupid.”
“And keep your hood up,” she says, as she shuts the door, and walks towards the supermarket.
She
