Dinner With a Vampire

  ‘Etiquette?’

  ‘Yes. Etiquette is as important as the steps of a dance. And stop looking so abashed, it is quite simple really,’ Sky snapped, clearly displeased at my tired expression. ‘First rule: a lady may never ask a gentleman to dance. She must wait to be asked. No exceptions.’

  ‘How sexist,’ I muttered, irritated and desperate to unpeel the shoe straps from the skin on my ankle.

  ‘Yes. It is sexist,’ Sky replied. ‘Second rule: if you wish to decline a dance, do so politely and timidly. Yes, timidly, Miss Lee, something that is clearly not in your repertoire.’

  I had opened my mouth to question it but he beat me to it and was rewarded with a snort of laughter from the corner, where Kaspar stood.

  ‘Now, this is the most important part: curtseying. It is quite simple for you. On account of the fact you are human, you must curtsey to every partner, both before and after the dance. Aristocracy will bow back, royalty will not.’

  I scowled. All curtseying and etiquette seemed to be was a humiliating, degrading exercise, designed to remind me of the fact I was human. But when I was about to voice that thought, the smile on Fabian’s face stopped me, leaving me tongue-tied. I can’t spoil this for him, I thought. Vampire or not.

  ‘It is also essential that if a member of the royal family app-roaches you, you are especially courteous to them. Understood?’

  I nodded. At this rate, I’ll be half-crouched all night. ‘How will I know if someone is royalty? And what if I dance with a human? Do I have to curtsey then?’

  ‘Look for the coat of arms. But I highly doubt you will encounter any humans. They tend to stick with those they are familiar with.’

  My heart sunk a fraction. One of the reasons I had agreed to go was to talk to, or at least see another human. To just glance at a set of normal teeth seemed like a dream.

  ‘Lastly, ensure that you are never alone. This is ludicrous enough as it is and such actions will only exacerbate the danger.’

  I stared at my feet, scuffing the bottom of Lyla’s shoes on the floor. I knew it wasn’t safe. But it would be safer at the ball than it would be alone in my room. Seeming satisfied, Sky turned back to the piano.

  ‘Now, there is just time to go through these dances once more. Fabian, if you will …’

  We ran through every dance once more, the vampires scrutinizing every tiny movement, correcting every minute mistake, until they were finally satisfied.

  ‘Now the waltz. Kaspar, you are our expert, would you lead?’ Kaspar stepped forward, but I backed off, wary.

  ‘Why do I have to dance with him?’ I asked, eyeing his movements as he swaggered towards me.

  ‘Because I have to ensure you are good enough to dance in a royal court, Girly. Royal, Girly, royal,’ Kaspar drawled in his aggravatingly patronizing voice.

  ‘Kaspar here is quite a dancer, near as accomplished as our father,’ Sky explained, proudly. Reluctantly, I inched closer, my eyes never leaving his, as a more and more devilish smile formed on his lips. But he stopped and waited and took a step back when I came close.

  ‘Do it properly. Curtsey,’ he said. I bobbed down, not doing it ‘properly’, but in the second I took my eyes off him he had darted forward, pulling me towards him. He forced my hand to entwine with his, whilst he placed his other hand a little too firmly on my waist.

  ‘Oh, “accomplished” are we?’ I imitated in a low voice so only he could hear. ‘Why didn’t you teach me how to dance then?’

  ‘Watching gives a far better view.’ His eyes very deliberately slid down to my chest and his lips cracked into a smirk. ‘Nice top.’

  I grunted in disgust. The music began playing and a chill passed down my spine. We began whirling, but my feet struggled to find the rhythm, because the piece was slower and darker than any waltz we had previously practised to.

  Suddenly, we had broken hold and Kaspar was holding me at arms’ length. I panicked and looked at him in alarm.

  ‘Turn!’ he snapped. I turned under his arm; as I did, he pulled be back towards him until we were stood chest-to-chest, one of my hands caught in his high in the air, the other wrapped around his back.

  ‘This isn’t part of a waltz!’ I hissed at him.

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ he replied, looking down at me through darkening eyes. ‘But I like variety. Get used to it.’ He twirled me around again and we returned to the hold, gliding around the floor.

  ‘This isn’t very gentlemanly of you.’ To my surprise, he cracked a smile – and a genuine one at that.

  ‘Very true. But we aren’t at a ball, so tough luck.’ At that moment, the music began to fade away and we retreated away from one another. I curtsied and Kaspar turned away.

  ‘Well?’ a low, raspy voice asked. My heart skipped a beat. The King had appeared from nowhere, standing in the shadows of the room, face hidden in shadow. I curtsied, and Fabian and Declan bowed.

  ‘She’ll do,’ Kaspar replied. The King nodded, thoughtfully, eyes never leaving me. I turned away, uncomfortable, and I felt his stare on my back for a moment more as everybody left. Lyla paused and I tugged my feet out of her heels, handing them back. When she had gone, I limped over to the piano stool, wincing as I put my flat shoes back on.

  Why am I even doing this? Why am I letting myself get close? Everyday the image of the slaughtered hunters faded away and I found myself struggling to remember that these were the same vampires that had ripped them apart … these vampires that I had just danced with.

  I shivered, chilled to the bone. The cool gloss of the grand piano seemed to mock me, as my pale, frightened reflection stared back. My eyes were even wearier these days, and I sighed. It wasn’t just the memory of the London Bloodbath that was fading. So was the hope of getting out of Varnley.

  We’ll get you out of there, Violet, but it’s going to take time …

  My father’s parting words haunted me. I was waiting it out all right. But how much longer could I last?

  TWENTY

  Violet

  ‘Can I look yet?’ I asked, eyes squeezed shut as Lyla guided me towards the mirror.

  ‘No, not yet.’ There was a tugging as she teased a loose strand of hair around her finger, before fastening it into a clip. ‘Okay, you can look,’ she buzzed.

  I opened my eyes to see an unfamiliar person staring back, violet eyes ablaze as they widened in shock.

  ‘Is that me?’

  Lyla nodded, eyes examining her creation. She waved two of the maids from the room as I looked up and down the length of the mirror, hardly believing that the person staring back was what I had been transformed into.

  My dark, black hair was loosely curled, falling just below my shoulders. My fringe and some of the looser curls had been swept back off my forehead, pinned by a tiny rose clip on one side of my head. My skin was all one colour: a pallid, pasty white and I wore barely any make-up, just mascara, eyeliner and a sweep of dark eye shadow. Around my neck was a black lace choker, another ornate rose attached to it. I could feel it pressing into my windpipe, as a steady pulse throbbed against the delicate material.

  But it was the dress that was the real transformation. It was a strapless ball gown, violet in colour – no coincidence, obviously. The neckline was heart-shaped, a figure-hugging corset clinging to my waist as thousands of tiny glass beads ran across the bust and the length of one side. The skirt flared from the hip, the material puckered and gathered with yet more beads until it just brushed the ground. I would kill to own a dress like it. Kill.

  I looked once more at my sallow-looking skin. Blush was strictly taboo in the world of vampires, so I wasn’t wearing any – it left me looking ill, but it worked.

  ‘Here, you will need these,’ Lyla said, handing me a pair of crystal-white gloves. I pulled them on and they reached just past my elbows. ‘Don’t ever take them off,’ she instructed, and I nodded, turning to look at her properly for the first time.

  Gone was the usual pink tinge from her hair, replaced by an
even shade of deep chestnut. It was pinned up, a few loose strands falling around her face. Her dress was emerald and backless, the material falling as low as the hollow in her spine. The rest of the material flowed to the floor, where it pooled in a small train. She wore very little make-up – not that she needed it.

  She pulled an emerald sash over her dress, the Varns’ coat of arms emblazoned across the material in silver. The one maid who had remained came forward, placing a dainty, not to mention very expensive-looking diamond tiara on Lyla’s head, and handing her a pair of white gloves, almost identical to the ones I wore.

  ‘Well, I think I am ready and you certainly are. I must say, you are my most impressive achievement,’ she prattled.

  ‘Thanks,’ I mumbled sarcastically.

  ‘You could almost pass for a vampire,’ she continued, as the maid helped to fasten a silver chain around her neck. I turned back to the mirror. Do I really look that different? Can I really pass as a vampire?

  The answer was no. I could still see a throbbing vein in my neck; see the natural blush colouring my cheeks; feel my steady heartbeat. I did not have the grace, or the elegance of a vampire and I completely despised everything they stood for. And of course, I knew I would smell most appealingly like a human.

  Butterflies tickled the lining of my stomach and a little dread poisoned my mind. I could hear soft sounds of an orchestra playing downstairs and the drumming of many feet moving across a hard, marble floor. Outside, it was a hive of activity as cars pulled up, butlers and valets rushing to attend to the guests. Each time I heard the incoherent voice of someone speaking far below, my stomach would do back flips, making me lurch. Even the clock seemed to taunt me, as the hands crawled towards midnight.

  ‘Who did you say you were going with again?’ I asked, anxious to preoccupy my mind.

  ‘My second cousin. Arranged of course. A favour to my aunt,’ Lyla explained in a displeased tone, clearly annoyed at her lack of choice in the matter.

  ‘Minger?’

  She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘Have you ever met a vampire who was a minger?’ I shook my head. ‘Precisely. They don’t exist. He just has an infuriatingly big ego. He will have the first and second dance and then disappear. We’ll be lucky if they find him tonight.’ She scowled, before muttering something incomprehensible under her breath.

  ‘Guessing you wish you could have gone with someone else, huh?’ I asked, nonchalantly.

  ‘Yes. And I know exactly who I would have gone with,’ she pined. Her eyes dulled, but that could just have been a trick of the light, because immediately afterwards, she straightened up and smiled. ‘Ready?’

  Just then there was a brisk knocking at the door and the maid hurried to answer it.

  Fabian strode into the room, wearing a dark tailcoat. His white shirt was well fitted, and hugged his torso until it disappeared behind a royal-blue cummerbund. His fair hair was sleeker and tidier than usual. A triangle of white poked out from his breast pocket and he also wore a pair of white gloves.

  ‘Wow,’ he breathed, his eyes taking me in. ‘Lyla, you’ve worked wonders!’ I blushed, not sure whether to take that as a compliment or insult.

  Her eyes turned a faint shade of pink, and her gaze glided to the floor. ‘Oh, it was nothing.’ I noticed that neither she nor Fabian credited the maids, who had done most of the work.

  She walked over to me and softly pecked me on the cheek, but not before she whispered, ‘Take care of him,’ in my ear, a single fang tugging at her bottom lip, which quivered. My eyes followed her as she withdrew into her enormous wardrobe, a lump forming in my throat. How could I have been so stupid? It was Fabian she had wanted to take. That explained her expression when he had asked me to the ball. But does Fabian know?

  ‘Time to go.’ He smiled, linking my arm with his and leaving me no time to ponder that question. He led me out of the room and down the stairs, where we joined the throng of people moving towards the ballroom. A few heads turned towards me and I flushed, over and over, the blood rushing to my cheeks. Fabian received a few nods from noble-looking men – vampires – and I tensed up, stricken.

  ‘Relax,’ Fabian murmured in an undertone. ‘You’re safe, I promise.’ I nodded, uncertain, not having the heart to tell him that it was just as much his touch that was causing me to become rigid

  Gradually, we moved towards the double doors that led to the ballroom. I vaguely heard Fabian complaining that people should stop loitering in the entrance, but I wasn’t really listening. My eyes were set dead straight, at a head of long blonde curls, twisted into a wreath of tumbling red flowers.

  Again, we inched a metre or so forward. I was afraid that if we didn’t keep moving, my feet would stiffen and refuse to move, or worse, my knees would buckle from under me. I was sure that if I went down, I wouldn’t get back up again – the bodice of the dress had been laced so tightly that I had to maintain a completely straight back or face being stabbed by one of the stays.

  I found that if I rolled up onto my toes, I could just see the sparkling light of a thousand black candles in the chandelier. The roar of voices in the entrance hall mingled with the muted sound of violins and a choir and the echo of what seemed like thousands of yet more voices.

  In one wave, the crowd loosened and those in front of us surged through the double doors and onto the wide balcony where Kaspar had confronted me over Thyme. Fabian, perhaps mistaking it for fear, pulled me closer.

  We crossed the threshold into the ballroom and the woman with the blonde curls and her partner veered to the left, descending one of the two sets of steps onto the dance floor. With that, the view of the room opened up.

  I gasped.

  Hundreds of couples were gathered about the glittering room, the ladies in elegant ball gowns and gentlemen in dress suits. The only source of light came from the chandelier, which threw a pool of light onto the centre of the room. Waiters, dressed in white, weaved about the guests, carrying tall flutes containing a liquid that I’m sure wasn’t wine.

  Heads turned as we entered the room, eyes of every colour staring curiously up at us.

  ‘Is that her? The human?’

  ‘She doesn’t look human …’

  Voices broke through the low murmur, as more and more people turned to look. But I didn’t care. Everywhere I looked there were dark flowing dresses, almost all wearing blood-like crimsons and maroons, blacks and shades of midnight blue and I gripped the banister of the balcony on which we stood with a sort of feverish excitement, breathless as my childish imaginings of fairytale balls were proved true.

  Every person in the room looked so dark, so compelling, as the soft light illuminated their haunting, emaciated faces. They were not perfect, like the stories always said: they were not moral enough to be perfect. But they were as damned near as nature could get.

  ‘Violet?’ I turned to see Fabian beaming down at me, hand on my arm as he took in my animation.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ I whispered.

  ‘Like you,’ he whispered back. My smile faltered and my eyes flickered up and down as they struggled to meet his.

  ‘I—’

  ‘Come on,’ he said, pulling me by the arm towards the left-hand set of steps. We descended and began to meander through the crowd. Some parted as we came their way with a respectful silence; others turned away in disgust. Fabian was guiding me, and glancing around; a frown appeared on his face. He muttered something that I could not hear and suddenly his expression was clear again. He grabbed my hand, and started pulling me back through the swarm of people again, who buzzed like flies.

  ‘Fabian, where exactly are we going?’ I asked, sensing he was leading me somewhere.

  ‘To my parents.’

  ‘What?’ I exclaimed. My expression must have looked panicked, because he shot me a ‘be sensible’ glare. I dug my heels in and put up a protest anyway until he gave up.

  ‘Later then,’ he warned above the sound of the orchestra on the far side of the room
, retuning with the grand piano. Gone was the soft, soothing music. Instead, the violins drew out three long, clashing, spine-chilling notes and launched into the most haunting fanfare I had ever heard.

  The marching beat of a huge timpani drum sounded, and the violins followed, notes crisp and unforgiving as deep, resounding horns echoed around the room.

  The crowd parted, creating a winding path leading from the grand door to the throne at the far end of the room. The hairs on my neck stood on end, as the bloodcurdling sound of a choir joined in with the strings.

  My blood ran cold.

  ‘What’s happening?’ I muttered in an undertone to Fabian, extremely conscious of the vampires opposite staring at us. Whatever was happening, I didn’t like it, as an unwelcome spirit began to take over my flesh, making me shiver, my stomach roll, my legs go weak.

  ‘The Varns are arriving,’ was all the reply I got.

  A compelling thrill rippled through the crowd as they waited with such electrifying excitement that the room seemed to churn like multicoloured water, swaying as one. It struck me that most here probably only saw their rulers on very rare occasions, and that this must be such a long-awaited appearance. And I get to mutter some new curse at the Prince every day. Lucky me.

  A bitter draft worked its way up, stirring my hair and dress, tickling my skin. High above us, the candles spluttered in their holders. The room moved from light to dark to light as the soft autumnal glow of the candles returned.

  Run! my voice suddenly cried.

  My throat was constricting, my skin crawling as all-consuming, vice-like anticipation took over. I had no will left, no strength to stop this irrational desire; this irrational want to set eyes upon them; them, the predators so well suited to destroying my own kind.

  Run from the rose!

  My breathing came in short, sharp rasps, not enough oxygen reaching my head. My hand tingled and I felt something cold through the gloves. A gentle pressure. I looked down to see Fabian’s white-gloved hand clutching mine, holding onto me as though I might blow away at any second.