Dinner With a Vampire (7 page)

‘You can push a stake through his heart and break his neck or break and bite his neck or suck him dry,’ he explained, a wicked look in his eyes. ‘The remains are often burnt, although you don’t have to do that.’

‘Brutal. Can you turn into a bat?’

His lips quivered and I could tell he was trying not to laugh. ‘No.’

‘Can you cross running water?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you enter a house uninvited?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘Because that would be rude. And to answer your next question, the only way a human can become a vampire is if they have their blood drained by a vampire whilst they also drink the vampire’s blood and yes, our eyes change colour according to mood.’

I crossed my arms over my chest, shifting away again. ‘How did you know I was going to ask that?’

He tapped his temple with a finger and grinned, his cheeks becoming round and puffed. ‘Psychic.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you being serious?’

‘Yes, and we’re telepathic too, but not with humans,’ he stated in a matter-of-fact way. ‘And I’ll let you in on a trade secret. As long as you are here, lock everything private in your mind in boxes and just focus on one thing if someone tries to get in your mind. I know, it sounds crazy, but you will stop smiling when you realize there are some here who won’t respect your privacy.’

I sobered. ‘Like Kaspar?’

‘Perhaps.’ He shrugged, spinning around in the seat to look over his shoulder. ‘Speaking of …’

Kaspar appeared beside the fridge and in the time it took to blink, the dark-haired boy with the glasses had dropped onto a stool beside me and spread the newspaper he had tucked beneath his arm out on the counter. He started to read, peering over the top of his glasses.

More vampires were not far behind. The ease that I had begun to settle into with just Fabian around disappeared along with the warmth of the room.

‘Morning, I told you my clothes would fit,’ Lyla said brightly in my direction. ‘And I hear that this rude bunch have not introduced themselves,’ she chirped. ‘That’s Charlie,’ she nodded her head towards the fair-haired boy who nodded his head in reply. ‘That’s Felix.’ The boy with the flaming-red hair waved. ‘And that is Declan.’ The last boy looked up from his newspaper.

‘Pleasure, I’m sure,’ he said in a thick Irish accent – so thick I had trouble working out what he was saying.

‘You know my idiot brothers.’ She pinched Cain’s cheeks and he shoved her away, groaning in embarrassment. ‘And Fabian, of course.’ Her mouth curled a little and she sat down on the other side of him as one of the red bottles and several glasses were passed around.

‘Kaspar,’ muttered Declan in a dark undertone as he turned a page of his paper over. ‘You should see this.’

Kaspar darted over and Declan wordlessly slid the paper across so he could read. I shuffled my stool across a few inches and looked over his shoulder. My eyes bulged.

Dominating a double-page spread was an aerial photograph of Trafalgar Square, cordoned off, and for the most part, shielded from public view by large white tents. The photo was black-and-white, but areas of the paving were dark where pools of blood had gathered. Printed in large, bold font above it was the headline
LONDON’S BLOODBATH: MASS MURDER IN TRAFALGAR SQUARE
.

I realized I had stood up and I gripped the breakfast bar, fighting to stay on my feet.

In the early hours of yesterday morning, London awoke to one of the worst mass murders in centuries, after thirty victims, all male, were found lying dead in Trafalgar Square.

The Metropolitan Police cordoned off the scene at approximately 3 a.m. on July 31st. The victims were pronounced dead upon arrival at the scene. All thirty, as yet unidentified, were found with broken necks and serious flesh wounds, also to the neck. Nine had also been found to be drained of their blood, sparking controversy among the public.

John Charles, head of the Metropolitan Police, said, ‘We are deeply shocked by this horrific incident, and we are determined to bring these evil and very dangerous killers to justice. We have forensic teams working at the scene, but we are appealing to witnesses who may have been in the area between the hours of midnight and 2 a.m. on July 31st to please come forward.’

Miss Ruby Jones, who discovered the scene, was unable to comment and is being treated for shock at the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital.

A pair of high-heeled shoes have also been found and are being treated as evidence, although insiders have reported they may belong to a young woman, believed to have been at the scene during the incident. It is feared that she may have been taken by the murderer[s], although confirmation is yet to be released.

This gruesome murder is being compared to the infamous ‘Kent Bloodsucker’ incident, where three young women were found dead near Tunbridge Wells two and a half years ago. All three had broken necks and had been drained of their blood.

Any witnesses are being urged by the Met. Police to either visit a local police station or call a special hotline on 05603 826111. All identities remain anonymous.

For further images, turn to page 9. For opinions, turn to page 23.

By Phillip Bashford.

I lifted the corner of the page, wanting to turn to the pictures, but Declan laid a hand on the print, holding it down so firmly that as I tried to lift it, it tore down the middle. I let go and he folded it up, leaving the sport page face-up. I tasted salt on my lips and realized I was crying.

It was sickening. But I was crying because Ruby had found the scene. She wasn’t as strong as me.

I looked up and saw Kaspar standing behind me, holding a glass of blood in his hand. I rounded on him. ‘Why did you do it?’

His brow lowered and small creases appeared around the corners of his eyes as he narrowed them, surveying me. ‘You wouldn’t understand,’ he murmured, his lips barely moving.

‘Wouldn’t I?’ I challenged, taking a step closer.

‘No.’ His lips parted even further and he looked as though he wanted to say something else, but chose not to. The room was silent, other than the sound of my heavy, irregular breathing.

‘Those men had families!’

‘So do we,’ he muttered.

I shook my head. ‘You’re sick,’ I spat, placing two hands on the shirt stretched over his chest. I shoved, pouring every emotion into the thought of hurting him. To my complete surprise he took a step back. It wasn’t a stumble: I hadn’t forced him to move. He just let me push him back without a word. ‘Sick,’ I repeated.

I pushed past him and fled the room, tears flowing unchecked now. The thought of those men, lying in a pool of their own blood kept bouncing around my mind, making my stomach turn. I ran upstairs to the bathroom and it was my turn to be sick.

‘Feisty,’ Felix muttered. He switched to his mind, musing on one thought.
Maybe it would have been easier to just kill her?

No, it wouldn’t have been easier.
I let the thought fill my head, before throwing up walls around my mind, wanting the others out. I needed to think, privately.

Something
about the look on the girl’s face had disturbed me; made me step back when she pushed me. It was a feeling I thought I remembered, but couldn’t grasp.

‘He means it would have been better for her if she didn’t have to deal with us,’
Declan clarified. I felt him pushing against my mental barriers and I lowered them slightly.
Your reasons for taking her were selfish, Kaspar, despite what you might tell the King.

And so what if they were?
Then your selfishness has got the Kingdom in trouble.
He opened the paper back up, turning to an article about the rising costs of defence. Blocking his mind to everyone but me, he pointed to the headline.
Michael Lee: taking the hard line on defence.
He will want his daughter back. And you know he has been looking for an excuse to drive us out since they won the election. This is exactly the ammunition he needs.
He wouldn’t dare do anything. He’s too scared.
I drained the rest of the blood, enjoying the warmth that came with freshness. Declan’s exasperation came across in waves, but he didn’t say any more on it. He knew that a lecture from father was enough for one day.

‘I talked with her. She is scared and angry, but she’s curious too,’ Fabian said, participating in a conversation I hadn’t been listening to.

‘You answered her questions?’
Lyla asked with a poor attempt at offhandedness.

Fabian nodded and Declan peered from over his newspaper again. ‘That is only because she is still clinging to hope. Once she realizes she is stuck here, that will go.’ He returned to the paper, apparently satisfied with his doom-and-gloom prediction. ‘And when I’m right, I will happily say, “I told you so”,’ he added, rustling the paper. Cain glanced in my direction and I knew my eyes must have dropped through to black.

Yes, I didn’t kill her!
I roared to myself as way of reply to their disapproving expressions. But not because I wanted her as a toy, though I would happily let them continue thinking that. I didn’t know why I had taken her. I didn’t know why I had saved her – why I had done it personally, and not let Fabian, always the nice guy, play saviour.

No, it wouldn’t have been easier to kill her,
I thought, continuing on from Felix’s earlier statement.
Because I suspect this particular human would have weighed on my conscience.

I didn’t know where my legs were taking me. I lost myself in the maze of corridors, my awe increasing with every turn. It wasn’t a welcoming place – there were few windows and most of the light came from gas lamps fashioned to look like torches or the occasional spotlight, which would highlight an alcove containing an expensive-looking painting or vase – but it was certainly grand. There was wood panelling everywhere and the floor was so clean I could see an outline of my reflection on the polish. It was cold too and if I lingered for too long on one spot, it felt as though I was standing on a pile of snow in only my socks. The few windows I did come across I fiddled with, trying to open them, but every single one was locked or too stiff to lift; the one I did manage to open was several floors up and positioned on a completely smooth wall, high enough to rule out jumping.

I found another set of stairs and climbed them. The upper floors seemed to be deserted, adding to the eeriness. I found empty room after empty room and there were only a handful of windows on the whole floor, it seemed – but from those few I could just about see over the tree-tops to the sea, a thin blue strip sandwiched between the green of the trees and the silvery lining of the sky.

Suddenly, the wood panelling ended and I found myself in a whitewashed corridor, lit with bright, artificial light – a stark contrast to the rest of the mansion.

‘Excuse me, miss, but are you okay?’ I jerked my head up, startled at the new voice. ‘Sorry, miss, didn’t mean to scare you,’ the voice said, thick with a cockney accent. It came from a young girl, not much older than I was by the looks of her. She was dressed in a plain black dress and a maid’s cap. Her face was round and plump, her mousy-blonde hair framing rosy cheeks. She would be quite stunning, if it was not for the lines of hard work that adorned her face.

‘Don’t worry, I’m fine,’ I replied, trying to smile and failing.

‘You must be the human the Varns took from London. Violet, isn’t it?’ I nodded. ‘I’m Annie,’ she said, smiling, revealing two small fangs.

I eyed them, my eyes sliding down to her dress. ‘Do you work here?’

‘I’m one of the servants,’ she replied. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ she added.

I shrugged. ‘Lost, I guess.’

‘Well, I can help with that.’ She smiled and picked up the bucket and mop beside her feet. ‘Take the servant’s stairs. They are at the end of here.’ She pointed in the opposite direction from where I had come. ‘Go three floors down and follow the main corridor and it will bring you to the entrance hall.’ With one last smile, she hurried off before I could even thank her.

Sure enough, at the end of the corridor there were a set of narrow spiralling steps, which twisted around and around a column until they opened out into a wide hallway, which in turn had smaller passages branching from it.

I stopped, staring down its length. The emptiness of the place left me feeling very alone and very vulnerable, as the scale of the situation hit me again. At the end of the corridor, blending with the darkness, I could see a man crumpling to the ground, rubbing his neck and scrambling away from me.

I shook my head, smacking my palm against the panelled wall.

‘Shit,’ I breathed, as I realized a tiny trickle of blood was flowing from my raw knuckle. I quickly wiped it away, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention.

‘Father says you shouldn’t swear. It’s unladylike,’ said a quiet voice from below me. I looked down to see a little girl with the widest, most emerald-green eyes. Her long blonde hair fell in tight ringlets around her face and she had perfect features, right down to her button nose. She looked to be about four.

‘Who are you?’ I asked, taking a couple of steps back.

‘I am Princess Thyme,’ she sung, twirling around, making her pink frilly dress whip around after her. She smiled, revealing two pinpricks for fangs.
A kid vampire.
‘And you are Violet, and Kaspar brought you from London.’ It was a statement, not a question. I said nothing, astounded at the sureness she had of her words.