Dinner With a Vampire (56 page)

‘You will be,’ he reassured, wrapping his arm around my waist. ‘It’s not so hard, I promise. But do you think it’s a good idea to turn so soon after your father is captur—’ He stopped mid-sentence. ‘I mean, so soon after he arrives?’

I let my head fall against his shoulder, appreciative of the fact he had corrected himself. ‘I don’t know. He can’t do anything, can he? He’ll just have to deal with it, I guess.’ I sighed and asked a question that had been bugging me all evening. ‘Is it wrong than I’m nervous about seeing my own father?’

‘You are?’ Out of the corner of my eye I could see him cocking his head, looking puzzled.

‘You seem surprised.’

‘I just thought you would be happy. Isn’t this what you have wanted all along?’

I frowned. ‘It was at first. I was scared and homesick and I hated you all. No offence,’ I added, catching sight of his affronted expression. ‘I had just seen you murder thirty men, after all. But at some point that changed. I don’t know when. I just stopped missing my family and I stopped thinking of Trafalgar Square as murder and I stopped …’ I trailed off as he leaned in, tilting his head to the side and pausing just short of my lips.

‘Stopped what?’ he asked, his voice so low I only just heard him.

My breath caught. ‘Stopped hating you,’ I replied and without hesitating, he pressed his lips to mine. It was only brief, but it was like kissing cool metal – I could taste the blood of the rabbit on his lips and I pulled away, shocked at the fact I
liked
it. He lowered his eyes but I raised his chin with a single finger, meeting his eyes, so bright and vivid, worthy of the most precious stones.

‘On August 28th, eighteen years ago, you first heard your voice, didn’t you?’

He inhaled sharply, his eyes wide. ‘How the hell do you know that?’

I tried to smile, but I only managed to grimace. ‘Autumn told me because I have a voice too. And I first heard it in Trafalgar Square.’

‘My God,’ he mouthed, running a hand down the back of his head, ruffling his already messy hair.

I nodded. ‘The night I was born, you hear your voice. The night I meet you, I hear my voice. When I get here, I start following you in my dreams. If your mother had never died, you never would have killed the hunters in Trafalgar Square and I never would have ended up here. You should have killed me that night. But you didn’t. You’ve saved me god knows how many times after that. Is that why we’re tied? What does it even mean to be tied? I just don’t get it. I don’t get any of it.’ I slumped against him, frustrated that voicing what I did know and did understand wasn’t solving anything.
Why me? What do I have to do?

He sat listening with a polite but detached expression, staring past me to the closed doors to the ballroom. I followed his gaze until my eyes rested on the black veins that ran through the white marble, thicker there than anywhere else.

‘We’re in a chess game,’ he muttered. ‘But we’re not in control. We are just the pieces.’ His voice trembled and a chill ran up my spine, like a ghost had passed through me.

‘Then who is in control?’

‘Fate. Time. Things we don’t know about,’ he whispered. ‘We’re not meant to understand any of it. So don’t try and make sense of it. Just play along.’

‘You make it sound like they are actual people or something.’

He shrugged, pulling me towards him as he stretched out his legs on the stairs, tugging my leg until I straddled his thighs, facing him, knees resting on the cool marble of the step below the one he was sitting on. He wrapped his arms around my lower back, his hands slipping just below the waistband of my jeans and tracing patterns along the elastic of my knickers. I felt a blush rush to my cheeks and my heart pick up.

‘I’ve been thinking too,’ he said and I could see his tongue running itself across the tip of his fangs as his lips parted. ‘The Athenean court is a lot stricter than here. Morally stricter.’

I shook my head, not following his meaning. ‘So? I can be good.’

It was his turn to shake his head. ‘They have a different definition of good. Lots of things are considered scandalous that we consider normal.’

‘Like?’

‘Like … like how two people can’t be publicly affectionate or sleep together unless they are officially courting. So, considering that, I thought that maybe, after things have settled down obviously, because there will be a lot of attention from the press if we’re together, well, maybe … only if you want, obviously—’

I cut him off with a wave of my hand as the irises of his eyes were tinged with a pale pink. I half-laughed, half-smirked, and he pouted.

‘Don’t smirk, you’ll turn into me.’

‘This is too good not to smirk,’ I breathed, breaking into an even wider grin. ‘Kaspar Varn, are you asking me out?’

He grimaced and his eyes became an even darker shade of pink. ‘I think we have skipped the dating stage, so I was more thinking girlfriend. But we don’t have to publicly announce it right away, maybe around Christmas time—’

I cut him off again by placing my hand over his mouth and shifting forward in his lap, using my other hand to push him onto his back. I followed him, hovering just above.

‘In a relationship with the daughter of the man who ordered your mother’s death. How controversial.’

‘In a relationship with a girl I’m tied to. How sensible. In fact, how
responsible
,’ he replied, chuckling. I joined in.
But my laughter turned to a muffled squeak as he pressed his hand to my mouth and started to roll over, the hand behind my back cushioning me as I rolled onto the steps. He appeared above me and brushed a few strands of my fringe out of my eyes. ‘In a relationship with a girl I would have been an idiot to let go yesterday. A girl who breathed life into this place. A girl who made me feel again. How
natural
.’

My heart clenched and my eyes stung as a thousand different emotions hit me in one wave, overpowering the fear, the uncertainty and the anger at him for the previous morning. It was a mixture of emotion I recognized, but hadn’t felt in a long time. And this was stronger. It was real. It was palatable: it tasted metallic as he pressed his lips to mine a second time. It was cold too as I wrapped my arms around his neck and he tried to press his entire body to mine; and as his hand slipped under my T-shirt, it was a jolt of desire.

He pulled away, his smile fading as he cupped my cheek.

‘Girly, I—’

‘Sorry, was I interrupting something?’

I sat upright as quickly as Kaspar rolled off me, flushing beetroot red as the doors closed behind Henry, who stood frozen and watching us, blushing too.

‘No, not at all,’ Kaspar said in his usual smooth tone, trying to discretely pull my T-shirt back down over my exposed hip.

Henry nodded, but looked sceptical. ‘You should probably get some rest,’ he said, looking at me. ‘Tomorrow will not be easy.’

I nodded and began to clamber to my feet, reality feeling as though it was tumbling down to crush my shoulders once more. Kaspar stood up too, taking my hand and pulling me close enough to peck me on the cheek.

‘Try not to worry,’ he murmured, before giving me a little push up the stairs. As I neared the top he joined Henry at the bottom and both started talking in undertones, heading towards the main downstairs corridor.

Rest? How the hell am I going to rest?
I thought. But to my surprise, as soon as my head hit the pillow my eyes became heavy and I fell asleep within minutes, head full of images of Kaspar and twisted dreams of everything that could go wrong the next day.

The following morning was grey but dry. A strong breeze had whipped up and as I perched on the bottom of the staircase, jumping at the smallest of noises, the cold wind kept rushing through the open doors, stirring my hair and making the hairs on my arms stand up.

My hair was washed and I had attempted to put make-up on, but my hands had been shaking so much that applying eyeliner was just too much of a chore, so I had given up. I wore a fresh buttoned black shirt and a pair of boot-cut jeans, both laid out for me first thing
. I haven’t worn boot-cut for years,
I thought.
If ever.
I had been wearing shoes too, but Eaglen had told me to take them off because he didn’t want anyone getting the idea I was going anywhere.
Anyone.
We all knew who that referred to. But all in all, I looked more presentable that I had done in weeks. I was pretty sure that was due to the fact they didn’t want ‘anyone’ getting the idea I had been mistreated.

But I could look like the best turned-out princess –
the irony
– and it wouldn’t improve how I felt. Sick. Waiting, just waiting, was more nerve-racking than Ad Infinitum had ever been. In fact, it was worse than getting my exam results and I had thrown up that day.

I glanced at the face of Kaspar’s watch: 12.40 p.m
.
The Sage, just thirty in total, would have taken out the rogues and slayers on the south side by now. I had heard Henry, heading out that morning, murmuring to Eaglen who was going towards the north side that he didn’t hold out much hope of ‘just immobilizing’ them.
Blood will be shed.

‘Are you all right?’ Kaspar asked, sitting beside me on the same step as the night before. He wore a black shirt as always, but today it was tucked in and buttoned up. He had even combed his hair. Mute for several hours now, I just nodded. ‘Not long now,’ he said, stretching his legs out. I was stiff too, but I couldn’t bring myself to move.

The rest of the Varns had retreated into the King’s study to wait, leaving Kaspar, the two butlers, ten or so of the guards of Varnley and I in the entrance hall. Every so often, they would stiffen and mutter urgently in Romanian to one another, before relaxing again. Once or twice, they directly addressed Kaspar, who would tense, a flash of red crossing his eyes. After a while, I figured that it must be when a slayer managed to evade the Sage and slip across the border. But they obviously were not getting far. In the back of my mind, I knew the death toll was rising.

12.50 p.m
.
The Sage would be working around towards the north side now, to meet Eaglen near the village of Low Marshes, which was where my father was waiting.
What if he isn’t where he is meant to be?
Could he have got wind of what we were planning?
That was unlikely because the plan had only been finalized the day before, yet it still worried me. But there were worse eventualities: the vampires involved might not respect the King and Crown’s Protection; they could kill him. That was far more likely. I would just have to trust Eaglen. He wouldn’t kill him. He wasn’t that type.

Who will he have with him? Bodyguards? Advisors? Ministers?
Endless questions bounced around my mind.

12.55 p.m
.
A particularly strong wind swept through the doors, sending the black cloaks of the guards billowing across the entrance. The green-and-grey landscape outside was draped in black cloth until the gust passed. The cloaks sank back around the forms of those who wore them, encasing their pale, translucent skin once more. I bit my bottom lip.
How much will he know about the Heroines?
I assumed he would know quite a lot, because that must be why he had chosen now; now, when the dark beings were preoccupied.
Or so he must think.

12.58 p.m.
The second hand of Kaspar’s watch inched around, seeming to be slow enough for my heart to thump twice every time it moved. 12.59 p.m. All of a sudden, the guards straightened and their forever-red eyes turned not to Kaspar, but to me. My breath caught and I scrambled up, feeling my stomach knot.

‘They have got him,’ a voice called and I turned to see the King entering, along with his entire family as well as Fabian, Declan and the others; several members of the council accompanied them, including, I realized, with another sick twist of my stomach, Valerian Crimson.
I will never be rid of him.

I felt a hand enclose my own. ‘Just focus on what you have to do,’ Kaspar murmured, untucking a chunk of hair from behind my ear and letting it fall around my face. It curled itself into a coil – the reason I had pushed it out of my face in the first place. I nodded and said nothing.
I should have straightened it,
I thought.
I always wore it straight at home.

I forced deep breaths into my lungs. The clock struck once; the minutes continued to pass like hours. Nobody made a sound. The air could be cut with a blunt knife, tenser than the guards who lined the outside steps or the fingers of the butlers who clutched the handles of the doors, ready to close them and seal my father inside.

The gravel crunched. There were no shouts; no signs of a struggle, just the regular sound of footsteps. I fought the urge to dart forward and look out at the driveway. Instead, I looked at the Varns. Their faces were blank and they seemed composed. The King, catching my eye, moved forward and came and stood beside me, sandwiching me between Kaspar and himself. Whether he thought I was going to try something or whether it was some act of solidarity, I didn’t know.

The crunching stopped and was replaced by the echoing clatter of several people climbing the steps. I let go of Kaspar’s hand. As soon as I did, Eaglen passed through the entrance, followed by Henry and Joanna. And a few paces behind was my father, each arm clasped by a vampire, but they needn’t have bothered. He walked calmly in like he was strolling into his own home and let his eyes roll over the inhabitants of the entrance hall, the corners of his mouth downturned in disgust.

Something inside me erupted as his eyes settled on me; I broke out from between Kaspar and the King, my duty forgotten as I rushed towards him. He wrenched away from the two vampires grasping him and pulled me into his arms, clutching me to his chest, even as he stumbled back a few paces because I hit him with such a force.

‘Violet,’ he muttered, repeating it over and over into my hair as he pressed scratchy kisses onto my forehead, his beard just beginning to grow back, greyer than I remembered it. I buried my head in his chest as we both struggled for balance. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the King placing a hand on Kaspar’s chest when he took a step forward, his lips moving as he mumbled something to his son. I closed my eyes, shutting off the scene, inhaling the scent of my father’s pale blue shirt. It smelt like home: of freshly washed clothes and burnt toast and the lavender perfume my mother always wore.