Dinner with a Vampire
Page 23

I heard footsteps approaching my door, creaking open, and panicked, I glanced at the open window, the voiles billowing in the wind. The door opened, revealing Fabian. I looked back to the window. It was closed.
I frowned, but quickly cleared my face as Fabian came in and sat on the end of my bed.
‘Are you okay? I heard a noise.’
‘I’m fine. Noise?’
‘Yes, talking. Pleading, really. It’s not those dreams again, is it? And why aren’t you in bed?’
‘Bed? Right, yeah. I guess I must have had a nightmare,’ I said, rather lamely, hoping he would believe the hastily made-up excuse.
‘Was it about that vampire again?’ I shook my head. ‘You’re not all right, are you? Not at all. And you’re all flushed.’
‘I-I am?’ I stuttered, reaching up to feel my face. My cheeks were warm, my palms a little sweaty.
‘Do you want to talk?’ he asked tenderly, and a wave of guilt for lying to him swept through me.
‘I’m fine, really,’ I replied, more defiantly than I intended. He narrowed his eyes slightly, but let it drop. There was silence for a while, the whole time of which I spent wishing him away, afraid he might realize who had been causing that ‘pleading’ earlier.
After a few minutes, he spoke: ‘Look, Violet, I want to apologize for what I said earlier. It was cruel, I know you must be going through hell and I don’t want to upset you any more. It was selfish of me.’ He shook his head and my heart melted a little as I saw the genuine remorse in his eyes. ‘And I know you would deny Kaspar if he ever tried anything with you; sex or blood. I know you’re strong enough to not let him seduce you. So I’m sorry for that too.’
My lips parted and I drew back a tiny amount, my eyes darting to the window. They lingered there for a moment.
‘Violet?’
I turned towards Fabian and realized he was staring at me. I looked to the sheets guiltily. I can’t let him apologize for something that isn’t true. Something that had been proved wrong just moments before.
What are you, a bloody martyr? my voice hissed. The sinister tone had not disappeared.
‘Fabian, you don’t have to say sorry. You were angry and we all say and do stupid things sometimes.’
I certainly had.
‘That’s exactly the point. I was angry at you because you don’t have feelings for me. That’s wrong. But please say we can stay friends?’
My mouth fell open a little, lost for what to say. I nodded, stammering over my words. ‘Y-yes, of course.’
He dived towards me, wrapping his muscular arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug.
Why can’t he just like Lyla? I thought desperately in my head. Why did he let this happen?
Because no man can control his passions, my voice replied bitterly.
Shut up, I thought. In fact, get out of my head! Leave me alone! I mentally screamed, and squeezed my eyes shut to stop myself from crying yet again.
I will never leave you, Violet; not for all eternity. I am a part of you.
Fabian drew back, his eyes searching my face, but I averted my eyes as my voice faded into nothingness.
‘I’m sorry too, Fabian,’ I breathed.
‘What for?’ he asked, surprised.
‘You wouldn’t know.’ I shook my head and he reached a hand up to my face, cupping my cheek. His eyes watched me intently and self-consciously I swept a few strands of hair over my neck; over the still-healing wounds that Kaspar had given me.
‘Violet …’
I caught my breath as I watched his eyes. They were dropping faster than a pin through the spectrum, every colour shining bright.
‘Violet, I’m sorry, I can’t suppress it any longer. It’s killing me. One day you might understand, if you become one of us, but please forgive me.’
‘Forgive you for what?’
He leaned in closer, hand still cradling my cheek.
‘For this.’
His lips crushed into mine, and my heart stopped. Literally stopped. I totally froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. His lips tenderly pulled on mine, begging for some sort of response.
And respond I did, as perplexing, fantastical feelings erupted, seizing my heart and mind. The blood pumped through my veins, sending my body into a frenzy.
I had kissed lots of boys; men. But nothing even compared to this. Love … love didn’t cover what I felt at that moment.
The Atlantic wasn’t deep enough to contain the sinking feeling in my stomach. Happiness was far too colourful to even understand what I felt at that moment. Depression was overshadowed by the guilt surging through my chest.
And the most terrifying thing of all was the fact I wanted more.
His tongue traced my lips, seeking entry, which I gladly gave. His tongue swept into my mouth, over my teeth, withdrawing as I did the same, pleading entrance to his mouth, tongue running over his sharpened fangs as they scratched at my lips. He moved closer, pressing me into the headboard, legs straddling my outstretched ones, brushing the hair from my shoulders, hands twisting themselves into the tangled strands.
We broke apart minutes later, both gasping for breath. My chest rose and fell like I had just been subjected to school cross-country, as I waited for my mind to catch up with my heart; heart to catch up with my senses.
Only when they did, did it truly register what I had just done.
His hand slid from my cheek, reaching for my hand, which he took gingerly. I wrenched away, looking up to meet his gaze with wide eyes.
‘Violet?’
‘You should go now,’ I replied coldly, ripping all emotion but hostility from my words. His face, full of hope, cruel hope, dropped, his eyes becoming a steely grey.
‘Vi, I—’
‘Go.’
He nodded, wordlessly disentangling himself from me. Before he left, he took one look back. One pitiful, despairing, wretched look back, before quietly closing the door. My chest tightened and my eyes stung with tears. My breathing was becoming shallower and anger was rising, along with shame and a mounting sense of hopelessness as the scale of what had just happened weighed down on my shoulders.
But not hopelessness. This is all my fault.
I wanted to scream at both Kaspar and Fabian for taking advantage of me; for using me – or better, wind it all back and stop myself. With that I threw myself towards the washbasin in the wardrobe, using the water to cool off my burning palms.
Except they didn’t use me. I was willing. I wanted it. I still do. I wanted it after everything that has happened to me.
But what – or who – did I want more?
THIRTY-ONE
Kaspar
The breeze ruffled my hair as I leaned against the stone railings of the balcony. I shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid … foolish … irrational.
I almost smiled, as I realized I sounded just like my father. Perhaps the lectures had paid off. But the fact that I could admit I was a first-class idiot didn’t mean I could take it back.
The upturned corners of my lips dropped and I sighed. Things would have been easier if I had killed her back in Trafalgar Square – a lot easier – but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to regret the decision.
I still didn’t know why I had acted that way that night. Protocol would be to kill her, suck her dry, and deposit the remains somewhere inconspicuous. It was the same for the hunters that night. We shouldn’t have left a trace, but we did. I did.
I sighed, frustrated with myself. My father had been furious; more than furious when he had found out. So furious he had grounded all six of us to Varnley for two months. Of course, I had broken that rule a thousand times already, but he wasn’t to know that.
Why did I let her live that day? Perhaps it had been her pale skin shining under the glow of the streetlights, much like ours did, as she sat there, stunned when I turned to her, catching her alluring scent as the wind changed direction. Or perhaps it was her violet eyes, such an unusual colour for a human; those eyes that widened when her gaze settled on the carnage we had created. Maybe it was her attitude. Even in the face of death, she had still managed to maintain the sarcasm. Or maybe it was just the idea of having a human around – a plaything and a constant source of food.
Even I could admire her strength. All through this she had kept it together; even after Ilta’s crime she still had a sharp tongue on her; could still face Fabian; and could still hold her own. But what I had just experienced unnerved me. It had been a glimpse of something more: something not so strong.
I thumped my palm against the stone, groaning as the light from the moon was shrouded by dark clouds. Rain began to fall, slowly at first, but persistent, becoming heavier.
I sighed and turned back inside, but not before glancing at Violet’s darkened windows. I knew Fabian was there.
Shutting the doors quietly behind me, I fastened the lock, and drew the curtains. Walking towards the bed I grabbed a slip of paper from the drawer in my bedside cabinet.
I didn’t hold much sentimental value for things, but the piece of heavy, tear-stained parchment in my hands meant more to me than immortality ever would, or even could.
I sat down on the bed and under the watchful gaze of my mother’s emerald eyes and my father’s steely grey ones, silently read the first line. Their portrait loomed above me, dominating the mantelpiece, a constant reminder of happier times.
‘My dear beloved son, Kaspar …’
I didn’t turn the page. I couldn’t turn the page.
THIRTY-TWO
Violet
Vampires are not gentle, loving creatures. It is not in their nature to change, or to adapt, to accept others. Their love is not what humans would call love, and lust consumes them on a level we will never understand. They do not grow old as we do, but age as stone does: they gradually weather, slowly perish, so slowly it is unnoticeable. But in the end, stone is a fixture forever, as are they.
I’d found that passage in a book in the library. It was a self-help guide for humans caught up in the vampire world – the existence of which had given me the first real reason to laugh since Ilta.
I couldn’t become like that. I was a dhampir, a shadow of what they were capable of, and that’s how I always hoped it to be.
What are you, a bloody poet today? my voice asked, filling my mind with a mocking snigger. I ignored it.
Fifty-four days, I had been at Varnley. Almost two months. I passed through the empty living room, heading for the kitchen. I shuddered, as the cold air rushed past. It’s getting wintry, I thought.
I paused, as I heard a distant whisper of movement.
‘You should really guard your mind better, Violet.’
It was soft and gentle, yet still menacing. Female?
I frantically looked around, searching for the source. I threw up huge barriers around my mind too, concentrating on the coldness of the passage and the coldness only.
‘Behind you, Violet.’
I whipped around. Nothing. ‘Who the f**k are you?’ I screeched, my breathing becoming erratic and raspy.
‘I know what happened with you and Fabian, you little human slut!’
My head was thrashed against the wall and I shrieked. My vision tunnelled, and I blinked, dazed. When my vision cleared, I managed to focus on the face in front of mine.
‘What the hell?’ I breathed. ‘Lyla?’
She pinned me to the wall, her eyes a blazing jaded green, mixed with the awful crimson, pupils contracting as her eyes constricted to black and back.
‘You kissed him, you f**king bitch! You know I like him and yet you still went ahead. What the f**k is wrong with you?’
I stood there dumbfounded for a moment, before anger rose. ‘I’m not a bitch! And as to what the f**k is wrong with me, what about what’s wrong with you?’
Her grip tightened around my arms, her nails digging in. ‘You don’t even deny it! Why the hell did you do it?’ She scowled, wrinkling her nose. ‘It’s bullshit that a human can just walk right in here, cry a bit and get what the hell she wants!’
‘That’s what you think, is it? Well, let me tell you something.’ I imitated her scowl. ‘I would never touch any of your kind. So maybe you should go and ask Fabian personally what happened, because I certainly didn’t start it!’ I shot her a smile, making to break away. It didn’t occur to me that Lyla might be truly angry and that that anger could drive her to bloodlust. I couldn’t ever believe that Lyla would hurt me.
‘Liar! Your memories say everything. You enjoyed it, didn’t you? Probably the best kiss you’ve ever had, but you’re not getting any more of it. Stay away from Fabian, or else …’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Or else what?’
She raised a finger to my cheek. Her deep purple nails were sharpened and tough, able to lacerate flesh. So when she slowly ran a single nail down my cheek, it gouged right in, leaving a bleeding scratch behind. She took the finger to her mouth, sucking on my blood.
‘Sweet. And I don’t know, maybe I will tell everyone that a certain brother of mine spent some quality time with you last night. I’m sure they would love to know that poor attacked Violet is all better now.’
My mouth fell open. ‘You wouldn’t!’
She shrugged. ‘I won’t if you stay away from Fabian. Have a nice day, Violet, you slut.’ She smiled sweetly, turned on her heel and disappeared, leaving me gobsmacked.
She’s blackmailing me!
I had seen what jealousy can do to people. But never did I imagine that Lyla was the type.
I don’t have a choice.
I wiped the blood from my cheek and took several deep breaths to calm myself. Composure was key. I slowly set off in the direction I had thought I had come, still taking deep breaths. I hoped and prayed that the scratch was not that obvious and self-consciously fluffed my hair around my face – nobody in the kitchen commented, but Kaspar’s eyes never left my cheek the entire time I ate.