Dinner with a Vampire
Page 3

I blinked, convinced I was seeing double. They were identical, from the perfectly polished black of the body to the heavily tinted windows. Even the number plates were similar, except for one letter.
Who the hell are these people? Handsome and brilliantly rich; their fatal flaw was murder. I swallowed as those thoughts faded. I knew enough of London to know the hallmarks of organized crime. Yet the police didn’t stop us.
The sound of distant sirens broke the quiet of the side-street and somebody behind me picked me up, bundling me into the backseat of the nearest car. He slammed the door and walked around, getting in the other side. I recognized him as the one who shared the same eye colour as Kaspar – emerald. Kaspar and Fabian got in the front of the same car, with Kaspar driving.
‘Put your seatbelt on,’ ordered the guy sitting next to me. I ignored him, sitting as rigid as a plank, with my arms folded across my chest. He gave an exasperated sigh and reached across, grabbing my belt.
‘Freak,’ I muttered. The boy chuckled.
‘The name is Cain, not ‘freak’. I’m his younger brother,’ he revealed, nodding in the direction of Kaspar, which explained the uncanny likeness. ‘What did you say your name was?’
‘Violet. Violet Lee,’ I muttered and with that went silent. Gazing out the window I could see yet more police cars pass by. My stomach flipped as I saw a policeman glance over at us. His eyes locked with mine for a brief moment, before he turned away, as if he hadn’t seen me at all.
We were leaving the city behind now, already out of the congestion zone. As we started hitting the open roads, I felt the car speed up and I glanced at the speed dial. It was hitting one hundred. I felt a familiar thrill in my stomach, but for once, it wasn’t welcome. My head was pounding and throbs of pain were still shooting down my side. I pressed my hands to my ribs and it eased a little, but not much.
I curled up on the seat, drawing my knees up to my chest, leaning my head against the cool window. My eyes were drooping and my body was begging for the release of sleep, but I didn’t want to think about what would happen if I allowed myself to drop off. Holding back the tears, I mechanically began analyzing my situation with as much detachment as I could muster.
I had just witnessed the mass murder of thirty men in the centre of London. I had been kidnapped by six fast and strong guys who did not seem to want to kill me – yet. I did not know where the hell I was going, who the hell these people were, and what the hell was going to happen or how long it would take for someone to notice I was missing.
I began to contemplate jumping from the door, but just as a plan had started to form there was a click and the central locking turned on. A dry sob escaped my lips.
Joining the deserted M25, we left the city I loved behind. The scenery gradually changed from city to suburban and eventually to sprawling fields, dotted with the occasional town or village. The signs we passed read Kent and I began to wonder whether they might be heading to the port at Dover to get to France. A glimmer of hope began to ignite in my heart. There was no way they would get through the port. But that hope dwindled as we veered not south, but north, towards Rochester.
Another sob escaped and I saw Kaspar glaring into the rear-view mirror. His brother, Cain, placed a hand on my shoulder and I stared at him, wide-eyed. He didn’t look like a killer. He looked like a kid.
He smiled. In my mind, I heard a man shrieking.
I shrugged him off and turned into the seat, my hair forming a curtain, shielding me from view. I let my forehead rest against the window. Tears began to fall, unchecked, streaming down the glass and tracing patterns in my breath on the window. Wrapping my arms around my shoulders, I delved into my mind.
I knew what I had left behind. The question was: What was I going to find ahead?
THREE
Violet
An hour stuck in a car with three deranged killers was not my idea of fun. I couldn’t sleep, for fear of what might happen. I couldn’t talk because Mr Charming-went-out-the-window constantly reminded me that I was at his mercy and should therefore keep my mouth shut. I couldn’t even look out the window, because it was too dark, so instead I had to listen to an animated conversation about someone called Amber von Hefner’s tits. Lovely.
The sun was beginning to rise, and I glanced at my watch: an early birthday present from my father. My father. What would he and my mother do when they found out what had happened to me? What about Lily, my little sister? She was just thirteen; she should not have to deal with this.
But more crucial thoughts ran through my head: What would these strange killers do? Hold me to ransom? ‘Silence’ me? It didn’t even bear thinking about.
Looking back at my watch I realized it was half-past four in the morning and approaching sunrise, the first glimmers of light appearing. The fields were falling away, giving way to thick, dense forest. The road was becoming more winding, and fewer and fewer cars were passing by, as all the time we climbed up and up.
The road swept sharply around to the left as we passed through a large gatehouse. Huge, intricate iron-wrought gates were swung open, the Gothic arched windows guarded by gargoyles.
As we passed, I could have sworn I saw several faces peering from the windows, but before I could take a second glance we were again enclosed by the forest. The road continued to weave as the trees began thinning out, sunshine sporadically breaking through the needles of the many pines. A little further on, they gave way to leafy blooms and as the trees fell away, I gasped, hardly able to hold in my astonishment.
Before us, surrounded by a vast expanse of lawn, was a magnificent mansion, so large the forest seemed to quail at its presence. It was a strange mix of architecture: tall Gothic spires jutted up from the pale stone, hundreds upon hundreds of arched windows lining the three floors, whilst an elegant balcony protruded from the centre, resting on four pillars above the entrance. In the distance I could see rows of garages and stables; early morning light danced off lily pads floating on a lake at the foot of the grounds. The whole area was enclosed by trees of every shape and size before they gave way to the pines that made up the forest. Sheltering the mansion behind was a steep hill, also coated in forest.
We swept around the sandy drive, rounding a fountain and stopping outside the impressive entrance.
‘So where’s the drawbridge?’ I breathed to myself. But instead of a drawbridge, wide steps led up to a set of marble double doors, which in turn were covered by the stone balcony.
My door was flung open and somebody grabbed me by the shoulders, yanking me off the seat.
‘Get off me!’ I snapped. He kept pulling, but I wriggled free and got out myself, despite the gravel that made my toes curl as I crossed it. He shrugged, walking off. Kaspar flicked the car keys at a boy, about my age. My eyes followed him, dressed in a black suit lined with emerald, as he jumped into one of the cars and started it, heading towards the garages.
I tore my eyes away as Kaspar grabbed my wrist and darted up the steps, the other five following behind. The double doors swung inward and my jaw dropped as we entered. A grand staircase circled the wall, made entirely of white marble. It led up to a large balcony and a passage, lit up by torch-like lamps fixed high up on the wall. Directly in front of me were a set of double doors, identical to the ones we had just passed through, but we were headed for a smaller door to my left. We passed a butler, who bowed.
‘Your Highnesses. Lords. Sir … and Madam,’ he added, clearly surprised at my appearance. I eyed him, unsure if what I had heard him just say was correct. He composed himself. ‘A guest, Your Highness?’
Kaspar chuckled darkly. ‘No, just fun.’
‘Very good, Your Highness.’
Your Highness? Kaspar had mentioned before about being a Prince. But Britain had royalty already, unless he was some distant relative of the Queen. But I would know about that if he was. Everyone would know about a royal like him.
Kaspar made a vague sound of acknowledgement, before chuckling again. Suddenly, his attention left me and with one hard push, I found myself stumbling through the smaller door into a lavishly decorated living room. The walls were wood-panelled and the carpet a worn deep red; the same torches used in the entrance clung to brackets on the wall between huge oil portraits framed with silver. But the room held all the same modern trappings as any other: a plasma television was mounted on the wall and below it was an array of games consoles; remotes were scattered across a glass coffee table, which the boy with the dark hair and glasses slung his jacket over as he flopped down onto one of the leather sofas.
Kaspar walked over to the windows, where heavy drapes framed the glass, stretching from the high ceiling down to the window seats tucked behind the shutters. He yanked the material across and shut off the light, save for one thin strip that divided the room in two.
‘Do you want me to take your coat?’ a voice said from behind me and I drew in a sharp breath, startled. Glancing behind me, I saw it was Fabian. I shook my head. ‘Sure?’ he added, smiling, and I couldn’t help but notice that with barely any light in the room, his eyes seemed to be just two pinpricks of brilliant blue framed by shadows, gaunt and hollow. I shirked away but took it off and handed it to him. A small, sympathetic smile crossed his lips and he gestured towards the sofas. I edged towards them, but decided to go no further. Instead, I continued to absorb the room and its occupants. There were six of them in total – Kaspar and his younger brother Cain, the blue-eyed boy Fabian and three others: the one with the flaming hair, another with what looked like fake glasses and the tall blond-haired guy who had pulled me from the car.
All of a sudden, Kaspar sprung forward and reached down into one of the pockets of my coat that Fabian was now holding. He pulled away and I realized that he held my phone.
‘I’ll keep that,’ he said, smirking. He pressed unlock and began searching through.
‘Don’t!’ I said, making a lunge for his hand. He side-stepped me, letting me stumble a few paces forward.
‘Why, do you have something to hide?’ he sneered. His fingers darted over the keyboard. ‘Dirty messages from your boyfriend, perhaps?’
‘No!’ I dived at him, making a second attempt at grabbing it back. But he held it out of my reach. ‘Give it back!’ I yelled, jumping, trying to snatch it from his hand. He smirked, holding it higher.
‘Who’s Joel then?’
I went to grab his wrist but he snatched mine instead and twisted sharply, leaving me screeching. He let go, but I backed away, rubbing my wrists. With a chuckle he began reading, his voice becoming high-pitched and mocking.
‘Hey, I was just wondering if we could meet up sometime? Just you and me. We need to talk about what I did. I miss you, babe. Text back, Joel.’ He stopped and pouted. ‘And aww, look, he even put a kiss at the end.’ He was clearly enjoying himself. I scowled at him.
‘Touched a nerve, did I?’
‘Fuck off,’ I muttered under my breath, not intending for him to hear.
‘Happily, Girly, happily.’
‘Kaspar,’ Fabian hissed. He was glaring at Kaspar, his eyebrows lowered and eyes shooting daggers at the other man. They said nothing for a full minute until Kaspar tossed the phone at Fabian, who caught it, slipping it into his pocket. With a shrug, Kaspar leaned against the sofa and drummed his fingers, staring down at me with an amused expression.
‘You saw too much and that is a problem for us. So you have a choice, Girly. You can become one of us or we can keep you here, indefinitely.’
I didn’t stop to think: my mind was made up before he had even finished his sentence. ‘I’m not a murderer and never will be.’
Kaspar shrugged his shoulders. ‘Then you will stay here until you agree to change. And don’t get your hopes up of rescue. Nobody human can enter here without us knowing.’
I frowned. ‘Human?’
‘Yes. Human.’ He turned to the others, smirking. ‘So much better when they have no idea, don’t you think?’ There was a general murmur of agreement in all but Fabian.
‘No idea about what?’ I asked, cautious, glancing from one face to another.
‘How old do you think I am?’ Kaspar asked.
It seemed irrelevant but I answered, not wanting to shorten his temper. ‘About nineteen?’
They turned to each other, chuckling. But this time they seemed to decide on something.
‘Wrong. I’m one hundred and ninety-seven.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Nobody lives that long—’
‘My kind lives that long, and longer,’ Kaspar interjected. ‘Vampires, Girly.’
I shook my head as a chill passed down my spine. They were mad. I took a couple of steps back and laughed nervously, partly at the ludicrousness of what he had just said and partly because I was wondering what sort of mind game they were playing, and what response would keep me alive the longest. ‘Is this some sick joke?’
Kaspar’s smirk vanished. ‘Am I laughing?’ he answered, parting his mouth and allowing his lips to roll back over his gums. Resting on the plumpness of his bottom lip were two sharpened teeth, inconspicuous enough to pass in the dark, but now, in the light, it was clear as day that they were fangs.
‘They’re fake,’ I said, staring at them. I sounded more defiant than I felt.
‘Want to test?’ Kaspar replied.
‘Vampires don’t exist,’ I breathed, still shaking my head. ‘You’re just madmen.’
Before I could say another word, I was pressed up against the wall and Kaspar’s lips were brushing against my neck. His chest heaved and I felt his strength, his power, his hunger. His breath did not warm my skin as the breath of any other person would, but chilled it, sending a trail of goose bumps across my shoulders and down my arms. I could feel my heart pounding out an uneven rhythm so frantically that the veins in my wrists pushed against my skin, becoming raised and mottled. Closing my eyes, I felt a gentle pressure as his razor-sharp teeth traced the line of the throbbing vein in my throat before one of his fangs snagged my skin and forced its way down; down between the layers of my skin, peeling one from another. A cry escaped my lips and my eyes flew open, my hands balling into fists, my fingers kneading my palm as I gritted my teeth. I was totally helpless. He was built to kill and I really wasn’t.