Dinner With a Vampire (52 page)

The King hissed.

It must have been coherent to Eaglen’s ears, because he chuckled with mild amusement. ‘No, you do not. You are blinded by anger and it is preventing you from understanding the irrationality of your actions.’

The King pushed through the crowd. His face was twisted with menace and he bared his fangs, sneering. ‘Stand aside, Eaglen.’

I stared, frightened for the old man, wise but frail. I didn’t need anyone else to die for my father’s actions, least of all somebody who – although I did not know why – was defending me.

‘No.’

The King seemed taken aback, as did the crowd – a steady stream of whispers flowed from the steps.

‘You do not need to die for a scum of a human,’ he spat.

Eaglen chuckled again and adjusted the cloak around his shoulders, impervious to the King’s foreboding glare. ‘I am an old man, Vladimir. Death does not scare me; I will die a martyr if you insist upon it.’

The taunting wit in his voice was clear and it only served to anger the King even further. He gestured behind him and hesitantly, Ashton and another vampire came forward. They lingered behind the King, seeming reluctant to get too close to Eaglen.

‘I command you as your King, and beg you as your friend, to stand aside.’

The King’s expression softened but hardened again as Eaglen closed his eyes, sighed softly and bowed his head.

‘I like to think I have been a loyal and faithful subject and mentor for each and every one of your many, many years walking this earth, but alas, this day, I cannot be.’

The King raised his hand and with two fingers, gestured first towards Eaglen and then to me, as he nodded curtly to Valerian. My eyes widened and realizing this was it, began to fight, managing to struggle to my feet within Valerian’s grip. He cursed, releasing my arms but wrapping one of his own around my middle. His other reached up, clasping the knife in his hand as he fought to reach my neck, my fingers scrabbling at his wrist and the knife, whatever I could get a hold of, leaving searing slashes across my skin. But the other vampire surged forward and together with Ashton, pinned my arms to my side. Valerian pulled me back to his chest and pressed the knife into the skin below my jaw. In desperation, I reached down and bit down, hard, on his fingers.

‘You little whore!’ he cried, dropping the knife. But instead of going to pick it up, he wrapped his free hand around my waist as Ashton brushed the hair from my neck. Blood, sweat and tears trailed down, following the curve of my skin; with complete disgust I tried to recoil from Valerian as his tongue darted out, lapping up each drop, hungry for the river he would find below my skin.

Vaguely, I heard the sound of Eaglen’s voice, calm demeanour gone and replaced with an urgent plea. ‘Carmen died
for her
, Vladimir! Your wife died so that one day, your son would meet Violet Lee. If you kill the girl, your wife will have died in vain. Hear sense!’

But the King did not even acknowledge Eaglen’s begging as he was pulled aside, others moving forward to help restrain him. The King nodded in approval, and then turned back to me.

‘Any last words, Violet Lee?’

I could barely see through my tears and I was too frightened to even swallow, let alone speak under Valerian’s eager fangs. But I stared at Kaspar until he turned my way and I could lock eyes with him.

‘Fuck the day I first met you. Fuck you and everything you have done to me. I hate—’

I couldn’t finish as my voice broke and I was reduced to sobbing, fighting and muttering prayers for mercy. I had expected my terror to abate at my words, or my heart to stop shattering over and over, but it didn’t. It just made it worse. Guilt washed through me and all I could think about was dying with Kaspar thinking I regretted the past four months.
Because I don’t. God, I don’t.

Neither do I,
my voice murmured.

I raised my eyes and tried to scream the truth through my sobs but all I saw was Kaspar weaving through the crowds towards the doors, his head turned firmly away. I shut my mouth and stilled as Eaglen began a fresh wave of protests.

‘For the sake of your Kingdom, Vladimir,
listen
! She’s the Dark—’

He stopped and stared behind me. I was able to focus long enough on his face to register a brief look of relief before suddenly, my feet had left the ground and I was wrenched from the grip of Valerian, Ashton and the other vampire into another’s arms. I screamed as I was pulled backwards, half on my feet and half-dragged away from the King.

Just as abruptly I was dropped as we reached the grass. Whoever held me pulled me fully to my feet and I flung around, ready to struggle or run if I needed to. But to my astonishment, it was Arabella who clung onto me. Her eyes were as wide and astonished as mine as her gaze flitted from Sky to her father to the King and she turned back to me, looking shocked. I felt her gaze linger on the cuts littered over my neck and hands.

‘Are you seriously hurt?’ were the first words from her mouth as her eyes scanned my body. I shook my head but even if I had been hurt, I wouldn’t have acknowledged it because I was staring in the direction of the King: pointing directly at his throat was a sword.

‘King Vladimir Varn, I am required to inform you that under the Terra Treaties Act of 1812, the harming of Miss Violet Lee, henceforth known as the Lady Heroine, is an offence punishable by immediate execution, without trial.’

A gasp as loud as a howling wind spread through the crowd and many dropped to their knees as Sage appeared from nowhere, right sides encased in vibrant scars, swords in some of their hands, magic in others. They grabbed the guards and freed Eaglen, who dashed to Arabella’s side. Daggers appeared at the throats of the Varns and Kaspar was marshalled towards his family.

Valerian was dragged back and pushed to the gravel, magic circling around his wrists as restraints and a sword pointing at his chest, held by a girl. She looked a few years older than I was; her scars a deep burgundy red and startlingly similar to Fallon’s. She glanced up as I stared and nodded in my direction.

The speaker – Canadian, judging by his accent – held the sword to the King’s neck, waiting silently for a response. The King, however, didn’t seem capable of speaking as he looked wordlessly from the man in front of him, to me, just as shocked as everybody else.

‘Her?’ was all he managed.

The man nodded. He waved his hand and a large rolled up sheet of parchment appeared in his hand, sealed with wax and a deep red ribbon. ‘Confirmation of the removal of the Lady Heroine from the protection of King and Crown in the second dimension, to be replaced with the protection of King Ll’iriad Alya Athenea.’ He handed it to the King who snatched it from his hands and ripped the seal open.

His eyes scanned the paper. ‘Does your father no longer have any respect for the power I wield within my own Kingdom, Henry?’

The man took the roll back into his hands and lowered his sword. ‘I believe I speak on behalf of the Sagean people when I say we have no respect for a man who would murder an innocent girl for the crimes of her father.’

The King said nothing and the man – Henry – sheathed his sword. ‘Do you accept the terms?’

The King raised his head with an air of pride, but it seemed hollow at his next words. ‘I have no choice.’

Henry nodded and with a wave of his hand, the Sagean girl lowered her sword from Valerian’s chest and the gleaming restraints around his hands disappeared. He shot her a filthy look, but said nothing as he darted back to the crowd.

‘I suggest you wait for the remainder of your court to arrive and hold a council meeting this evening. There is much to discuss,’ Henry said and with that, turned and walked towards us. The girl joined him and slowly, the other Sage backed away from the vampires, but not by very far. None of the vampires moved.

I stood, rooted to the spot and not really sure of what had just happened. As they neared, they both dropped into full court bows.

‘My Lady,’ they said and I stared, flushing as they both rose and took a further few steps forward. From here I could see that the man had scars of a similar colour to the girl’s – deep red and brown – and that both their eyes were the same brilliant blue.

‘I-it’s just Violet,’ I choked, unsure of how to react, stealing glances at where the Varns stood. The man nodded.

‘Henry,’ he said. ‘I’m Fallon’s older brother. And my sister, Joanna.’

He gestured to the girl and I realized that they must be a Prince and Princess of Athenea. I didn’t pay them any more attention as I locked eyes with Kaspar. I stared at him. He stared back, until he turned on his heel and disappeared inside.

As my vision began to blur I could just see Henry whipping about to follow my gaze before he darted forward to catch me as my knees buckled. I felt myself sink and I could sense the cool dampness of the grass soaking into my shirt.

I knew I was becoming unconscious and the last thing I registered before I retreated into my mind was a voice.

‘No, Henry, leave her. Too much has happened for her mind to cope with. Leave her …’

Wherever I was felt oddly familiar. I knew the feel of the rug beneath my feet, plush but worn beside the door and beneath the bedposts. I knew the wood of the walls. The smell. The way the light loitered around the French doors.

I dropped down onto Kaspar’s bed and threw myself back, utterly convinced I was dreaming – I was too calm to be awake.

Everything was so clear now – the course of my life, before a puzzle, had slotted together to make a straight line; one that led to here; now; the beginning of my life as a Heroine.

Greg, an innocent, had died and I had turned to Joel. Joel had cheated and I had turned to clubbing every weekend, and that had pulled my line right across Kaspar’s. The Queen had died so he would kill Claude Pierre and create the Bloodbath. And at that moment, the two lengths of string we both trod knotted and we became tied.

‘But now he hates me,’ I whispered to the stillness.

‘My son does not hate you. I highly doubt he is capable of it,’ said a voice, eloquent and undoubtedly belonging to a woman.

I sat bolt upright and stumbled up from my bed – which wasn’t even my bed anymore – and back-pedalled into the wall. I hit the wood panelling and stared dead ahead, a breeze stirring the black voiles around the French doors, open to reveal the balcony outside.

Stood in front of the mantle was a woman, dressed in a long emerald dress which clung to her waist, cinched by the bones of the bodice. Her wavy brown hair clung to the curvatures of her neck and breast, long enough to reach her hips. She was smiling in my direction, revealing the tips of two small fangs. Although a woman past the years of youth, she was beautiful – most stunning of all were her eyes, which were a bright, vivid shade of emerald.

‘Your Majesty,’ I spluttered, bobbing into a curtsy.

Her lips came together and the corners of her mouth upturned, her eyes seeming to sparkle with the same amused half-smirk, half-smile I had seen Kaspar use on so many occasions. Her head bowed and she gathered the sides of her skirt, dropping into a low curtsy. ‘You have no need to bow to me, Lady Heroine.’

I could only stutter as she straightened, still smiling – a smile none of the portraits I had seen of her, including the one behind her, had ever done justice.

This was one hell of a dream.

‘I … How … What do you mean Kaspar doesn’t hate me? My father ordered your death.’ The words seemed surreal and stupid even as I was saying them. She bowed her head again and gracefully sat on the edge of Kaspar’s bed – her bed – and stretched out her hand, inviting me to do the same.

‘Kaspar, although often callous and devoid of civility, is a good man. His heart is true and I am in no doubt that it belongs to you. He is angry, I do not deny that, but his hurt will abate, in time.’

I clasped my hands together, uneasy. ‘You mean he will forgive me?’

She shook her head. ‘He has nothing to forgive you for.’

‘But—’

‘Hush,’ she breathed, taking my hands in hers. Her skin was warm too, as though she had bathed her hands in hot water. ‘Here,’ she added, pressing something cold into my palm. I looked down. Resting on my hand was the Queen’s locket – her locket – the chain dangling between my fingers. ‘My son chose correctly when he bestowed this upon you. Valerian Crimson had no right to take it.’

I closed my fingers around it, feeling the ever-cool metal burning my skin. ‘Is this really just a dream?’ I asked, believing that nothing was impossible anymore.
Even the dead walking and talking.

The Queen did not answer immediately, but seemed to think for a while. ‘You must decide that for yourself. But we do not have long.’

‘I don’t want to wake up,’ I breathed.

The Queen shook her head. ‘You must, Violet, if you wish to keep your family from harm.’

I squeezed the locket in my hand and stared at the floor I was so familiar with now. ‘And how on Earth do I do that? I have to betray them to fulfil the Prophecy and I will turn if that is what I have to do, but I don’t think that is going to be enough.’

The Queen didn’t answer, standing up and rounding the bedpost, hurrying towards the French doors. I sprang up and followed her. The sun had appeared once more from behind the cloak of grey clouds and the morning was fast reaching its height. She stepped out, devoid of the elegance now and rushed to lean over the banisters of the balcony. I did the same, just in time to see my limp body being carried inside by one of the Sage.

That clears up whether this is a dream or not.

I recoiled, whilst the Queen leaned even further down, her hair dangling in mid-air. Slowly, I placed my weight back on the stone and listened as below the balcony, Eaglen and the Sagean prince, Henry, talked in undertones.

‘I understand, Henry, but the girl’s father will come tomorrow along with the Pierre clan and maybe even the Extermino too. We
need
you and your men, to keep the Varns from harm as much as anything else,’ Eaglen pleaded, pausing as two of the Sagean men he talked of walked past – the crowd of vampires that had gathered earlier had gone. ‘To keep the girl from harm.’