Author’s Extended Edition

For wattpad.com.

To the team for providing a place to share.

To each and every member who read, voted, nagged and criticized. You shaped this story.

To Joanne and Terran, and lastly, to Soraya. You reached out to a child across the world and gave her the encouragement she needed. You started this journey.

O Rose, thou art sick!

The invisible worm

That flies in the night,

In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed

Of crimson joy:

And his dark secret love

Does thy life destroy.

– The Sick Rose, William Blake

Table of Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Epigraph

Introduction to the Author’s Extended Edition

Chapter One: Violet

Chapter Two: Violet

Chapter Three: Violet

Chapter Four: Kaspar

Chapter Five: Violet

Chapter Six: Violet

Chapter Seven: Kaspar

Chapter Eight: Violet

Chapter Nine: Violet

Chapter Ten: Violet

Chapter Eleven: Violet

Chapter Twelve: Kaspar

Chapter Thirteen: Violet

Chapter Fourteen: Violet

Chapter Fifteen: Violet

Chapter Sixteen: Violet

Chapter Seventeen: Kaspar

Chapter Eighteen: Violet

Chapter Nineteen: Violet

Chapter Twenty: Violet

Chapter Twenty-One: Violet

Chapter Twenty-Two: Violet

Chapter Twenty-Three: Kaspar

Chapter Twenty-Four: Violet

Chapter Twenty-Five: Kaspar

Chapter Twenty-Six: Violet

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Kaspar

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Violet

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Kaspar

Chapter Thirty: Violet

Chapter Thirty-One: Violet

Chapter Thirty-Two: Violet

Chapter Thirty-Three: Violet

Chapter Thirty-Four: Kaspar

Chapter Thirty-Five: Violet

Chapter Thirty-Six: Kaspar

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Violet

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Violet

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Kaspar

Chapter Forty: Violet

Chapter Forty-One: Kaspar

Chapter Forty-Two: Violet

Chapter Forty-Three: Kaspar

Chapter Forty-Four: Violet

Chapter Forty-Five: Violet

Chapter Forty-Six: Violet

Chapter Forty-Seven: Kaspar

Chapter Forty-Eight: Violet

Chapter Forty-Nine: Violet

Chapter Fifty: Violet

Chapter Fifty-One: Violet

Chapter Fifty-Two: Violet

Chapter Fifty-Three: Kaspar

Chapter Fifty-Four: Violet

Chapter Fifty-Five: Kaspar

Chapter Fifty-Six: Violet

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Violet

Chapter Fifty-Eight: Kaspar

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Violet

Chapter Sixty: Violet

Chapter Sixty-One: Kaspar

Chapter Sixty-Two: Violet

Chapter Sixty-Three: Violet

Chapter Sixty-Four: Violet

Chapter Sixty-Five: Violet

Chapter Sixty-Six: Violet

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Copyright

About the Publisher

Introduction to the Author’s Extended Edition

Welcome new readers and fellow Fangsters, to the extended edition of The Dark Heroine: Dinner with a Vampire. I have to admit, I was very excited when my editor told me that we would be doing a “director’s cut” for The Dark Heroine, returning some of my favourite scenes to the story that didn’t made the cut of the final book during the edit.

For my long-term fans on Wattpad, I hope this is a chance to reread some of the chapters that had previously been cut for length and pace. For new readers, this edition will give you even more insight into life in the Varn mansion, and into the relationship between Kaspar and Violet. But why were these scenes removed in the first place? Let me tell you an editing story…

Frantic studying, taking your last exams, going to prom, gaining a boyfriend – pretty familiar summer territory for many teenagers. How about sitting in your local library in the blistering heat with an editor, about to edit your manuscript because you had been offered a publishing contract a month after you left school? Sound a bit like something out of a book?

Oh no. This actually happened to me.

I had been writing The Dark Heroine: Dinner with a Vampire on Wattpad for roughly three years under the alias Canse12, gaining 17 million reads and what I believe is the best fan base a girl could have – the Wattpad kind, of course. I was writing serially – posting a chapter every month or so (when I managed to find the time!) and learning so much from readers and fans as I went along. That brought me to the attention of my awesome agent, Scott, and I knew that at some point I was going to have to face the editing process.

So what is the edit? Simply put, the edit is comprised of three steps: a structural edit (usually a list of revisions to do with plot, characterisation, etc. sent to the author), a line edit (word changes), and a copy edit (spelling, grammar and punctuation). The first two are the stuff of nightmares for writers. Being told you have to cut, add to and alter your precious, precious story (think Gollum from Lord of the Rings here) is something none of us want to do, but inevitably have to. And for me, it was going to be really, really hard, because:

1 The turnaround for my book, from acceptance to eBook publication, was two months. (To put this in context, contract to print, it usually takes years).

2 My manuscript was 200,000 words long. Yes, you read that correctly.

Therefore, things were going to be done a little differently: instead of an edit letter containing revisions, I got my actual editor, Amy McCulloch from HarperVoyager UK. Together, in my beautiful home country of Devon, we spent two days looking over her suggestions for the structural and line edit, drinking coffee and emailing revisions to each other at midnight. A week and an all-nighter on my part later, 50,000 words had been cut from The Dark Heroine. It made my history exam look like a piece of cake.

Now, I’m so pleased to be able to share The Dark Heroine extended edition with you all. It’s still been copy edited and proofread, but now contains even more Violet, Kaspar and Fabian…

Happy reading!

– Abigail Gibbs

ONE
Violet

Trafalgar Square is probably not the best place to stand at one o’clock in the morning. In fact, it is probably not the best place to be if you are alone at any time of the night.

The shadow of Nelson’s Column in Trafalgar Square loomed above as I shivered, the cool air of the July night rushing between the buildings. I shuddered again, pulling my coat tightly around myself, seriously beginning to regret wearing a skimpy black dress – my choice of wardrobe for the evening. The sacrifices I make for a good night out.

Jumping as a pigeon fluttered down beside my feet, I scanned the empty streets for any sign of my friends. So much for getting a ‘late night snack’. The sushi bar was only a two-minute walk away; twenty minutes had passed. I rolled my eyes, in no doubt that some guys were in their knickers by now. Good for them. Why would they have to worry about little old Violet Lee?

I walked towards the benches, sheltered by the sparse and gloomy canopy of trees. I sighed as I rubbed my hands across my knees to try to get the blood flowing, bitterly regretting the decision to wait behind.

Taking one last glance around the square, I pulled out my mobile, hitting speed dial. It continued to ring until, eventually, the voicemail cut in.

‘Hi, this is Ruby. I can’t answer right now, so leave a message after the tone. Lovage!’

I groaned in frustration as the tone beeped. ‘Ruby, where the hell are you? If you’re with that guy, I swear I’ll kill you! It’s bloody freezing out here! As soon as you get this, call back.’

I ended the call, slipping the phone back into the inside pocket of my coat, knowing that my efforts were likely to be in vain as she probably wouldn’t listen to the message for days. Rubbing my hands together and drawing my knees up to my chest in a bid to keep warm, I debated whether I should just get a cab home. But if Ruby did turn up, I’d be in trouble. Resigning myself to a long wait, I laid my head on my knees in the quiet, watching the orange haze that coated the city of London.

Opposite, late-night drinkers disappeared into a side-alley, stumbling along until their raucous laughter was lost in the darkness. A few minutes later, a red double-decker bus with the words ‘Visit the National Gallery’ splashed across its side appeared from behind the very attraction it was advertising. It followed the road around the square before disappearing amidst the maze of Victorian buildings that dominated the city centre. As it left, the dull hum of far-away London traffic seemed to fade away into silence with it.

I wondered which of the two boys we had met tonight had struck lucky with Ruby. I felt a pang of regret, wishing I could be as carefree and, well, loose as she was. But I couldn’t. Not after Joel.

More minutes passed and I began to feel uneasy. Nobody had drunkenly stumbled through for a while and the cold night air was descending like a blanket around my exposed legs. I glanced about for a taxi but the roads were empty and the square deserted, save for the light skimming over the surface of the water in the two fountains either side of the central column.

I pulled my phone back out, thinking I could call my father and ask him to pick me up, when something flickered in the corner of my eye. Almost dropping my phone I jerked up, heart in my mouth, scanning the square for any sign of movement.

Nothing. I shook my head, the panic waning. It was probably just a pigeon, I assured myself. I began to dial my home number, the cold numbing my fingers, though I glanced up every few seconds, willing my breathing to slow.

But no, something had moved.

A shadow had flitted across one of the huge fountains, too quick for my eyes to discern a shape. The square, on the other hand, was deserted, save for a few panicked pigeons taking flight. I shook my head, pressing my phone to my ear. The line crackled, ringing feebly and breaking every few seconds.

I tapped my foot impatiently. ‘C’mon …’ I muttered, glancing at the screen. Full signal.

My eyes wandered as the number dialled and dialled, lingering on Nelson’s Column, towering hundreds of feet in the air. The blazing floodlights that lit up the statue at the very top flickered, like a flame in the breeze. They stilled again, as intense and bright as before.

I shivered, but not from the cold. I prayed someone would answer the phone, but the line crackled and with one last pitiful ring, went dead. I stared at it, wide-eyed, before adrenaline began to rush into my veins and instinct cut in. I slipped off one of my heels as my eyes glued themselves to the column, watching in disbelief as the shadow I had seen just moments before swept across the statue, vanishing from view as quickly as it had come. Fumbling with the last strap, I wrenched the other shoe from my foot and snatched both up in my hands. I started forward. But no sooner had I taken a few steps than I froze, rooted to the spot.

A gang of men, clothed in brown coats and carrying long, sharpened canes were descending the steps. Their grim, weather-beaten faces were dark and heavily scarred, every brow set in an unwavering, determined line. Their heavy footfall rang in my ears, pounding out an uneven march on the paving as they moved ever closer.

Stunned, I shrank back into the shadows, silently crouching behind the bench. Hardly daring to breathe, I tried to make myself as small as possible whilst inching towards the edge of the square.

The man at the head of the group barked something and the men spread out, creating a line as wide as the square, stretching from one fountain to the other. There were easily thirty of them. As one, they came to a halt just in front of the column, only their coats moving as the wind billowed in the fabric behind them.

Not even the trees made a sound. Every one of the men looked straight ahead with unwavering concentration, watching and waiting. I glanced towards the top of the column, but the statue was bathed in light as usual, the only shadows being those cast by the men and the trees that I sheltered under. A few leaves drifted languidly to the ground, settling on the bench beside me.

Then it happened.

The square came alive in a frenzy of movement and out of nowhere something sprung from behind the trees, soaring high above my head and landing without so much as a stumble on the hard stone, about ten feet away. I blinked, not believing that my eyes had seen a person, but before I could take a second look, whatever it was had disappeared.

Taken as much by surprise as I was, the line of men staggered back a few paces in panic. Those at the very end of the line edged inwards, order only restored as the man I presumed to be the leader raised a hand. From his coat he pulled a silvery baton, one end sharpened to a lethal point. With a flick of his wrist, it became twice as long. He spun the baton a few times, as though admiring the way it glinted when it caught the light. His lips curled into a satisfied smile and he stilled, waiting once more.

The leader was quite young – twenty at the most. Tall and lean, his face was free of scars unlike those around him. His hair, cut short, was bleached so it was almost white, a stark contrast to his leathery coat and tanned skin. His smile widened as his eyes darted towards the figure that had landed so close to me. I drew in a sharp breath, expecting him to spot me, but his attention was whipped away as a man stepped out from around the fountains.

No, not a man, but a boy, not much older than I was. His eyes were sunken, skin ashen pale and almost translucent, pulled taut over hollow cheeks. He too was tall, but beneath his tight shirt I could see the rippling trace of muscles. His arms were just as pale but covered in red blotches, as though he had been badly sunburnt. His lips were stained a bright, bloody red, as was his hair, which was spiked and unkempt.

I blinked, and he was gone. I searched the square as others appeared, all with the same pale skin and haggard gaze. They circled the group in the middle, their faces twisted into a mixture of amusement and disgust. They appeared from nowhere, darting from one side to the other at inhuman speed, vanishing and emerging within a second. I rubbed my eyes, convinced that I was just too tired to focus. They couldn’t be moving that fast.

The boy with the flaming hair appeared again, leaning against the fountain as though standing at the bar. Near him stood a young man with sandy-blond hair who I thought I recognized as the one who had sprung from behind me.

In total there were five of them, casually herding the group of brown-coats into the centre like animals. The tanned men’s faces were contorted into a picture of fear and loathing as they broke their ranks, stumbling back a few steps with their stakes lowered. Only the leader remained unmoved, his smile becoming a smirk as he clasped his baton to his side and jerked his head upwards.

Suddenly, a man dropped from the column – all one hundred and sixty-nine feet of it. He plummeted faster and faster towards the ground, surely to his death. But I watched, amazed, as he landed nimbly on the stone, dropping to a crouch in front of the gang’s leader.

The square stilled and the leader, for the first time, stirred. ‘Kaspar Varn, such a pleasure to see you again,’ he said, his voice tinged with an accent I couldn’t place.

The man, Kaspar, straightened up, his face blank and unreadable. He was as tall as the leader but his bearing and well-built, muscled stature made the other man seem a lot smaller.

‘The pleasure’s all mine, Claude,’ he answered coolly, his gaze sweeping right to left. He gave a curt nod to the sandy-haired boy and I managed to steal a look at him.

He, like the others, had pallid, slightly sallow skin, devoid of any colour or blush. His dark, almost black hair was streaked with shades of brown and was windswept, his fringe falling across his forehead. If anything, his features were gaunter than any of the others; his face shadowy as though he had not slept for days.

Perhaps he doesn’t sleep, a voice in my head muttered. As the thought crossed my mind, he seemed to look past the sandy-haired boy, his brow creasing a fraction. I held my breath, realizing he was looking directly at me. But if he saw me, he chose to pay no attention as he turned back to the leader, his face clearing and becoming impassive again.

‘What do you want, Claude? I have no time to waste on you and the Pierre clan,’ the darker haired man said, addressing the other.

Claude’s smile widened, running a single finger down the sharp edge of his stake. ‘Yet you came.’

Kaspar waved his hand dismissively. ‘We were hunting anyway; it was no great distance.’

I shuddered. What is there to hunt in a city?

Claude chuckled darkly. ‘As are we.’

In a flash, he brought the stake up to the other man’s chest, thrusting forward. But it never found its mark: Kaspar reached up and brushed it away. It seemed to take no effort; he hardly blinked, but Claude lurched backwards as though a truck had hit him. The stake clattered to the ground, the metallic ring echoing in the silence.

Claude staggered, tripped, then clumsily regained his balance and straightened himself up. His narrow eyes darted towards the stake and then back to the man stood in front of him. His lips curled back into a smile.

‘Tell me, Kaspar, how is your mother?’

Out of nowhere, the pale man’s hand snatched forward, seizing Claude’s throat. Horrified, I watched as his eyes bulged and his feet left the floor, the colour draining from his face. He coughed and spluttered, his feet writhing in midair. His hands grappled with Kaspar’s wrists, but he soon began to give up as slowly, agonizingly slowly, he turned purple.

Without warning, the pale man let go. Claude crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath, feverishly rubbing his neck. I breathed a sigh of relief, but the man collapsed on the ground didn’t. His whimpers became pleas and his face seemed to show some sort of recognition as he stared up at the maddened face of Kaspar. He shuffled back, squirming and grabbing the hem of a coat one of his men was wearing. The man did not move.

Kaspar’s chest was heaving and a deranged, sick expression was twisted onto his face. He lowered his hand, clenching it into a tight fist.

‘Do you have any last words, Claude Pierre?’ he growled, the menace in his voice barely restrained.

The leader drew in several long, shaky breaths. He wiped away the sweat and tears on his sleeve, bracing himself. ‘I hope you and your bloody Kingdom burn in hell.’

Kaspar’s lips widened into a smirk. ‘Wishful thinking.’

With that, he pounced forward, his head ducking behind Claude’s neck. There was a sickening crack.

I gagged. My hands instinctively clapped to my mouth as bile rose in my throat. With it, came fear. Tears leaked from my eyes, but I knew that if I made any noise I would be next.

Self-preservation kicked in as Claude’s lifeless body dropped to the stone. I was witness to a murder and I had watched enough of the six o’clock news to know what happened to witnesses who stuck around. I have to get out of here. I have to tell someone.

If you ever get out of here, said that same, niggling voice.

I hated to admit it, but it was right: all hell had broken loose.

The pale skins jumped onto the men, a huge, bloody fight breaking out, if you could call it a fight. The men barely had time to use their stakes to defend themselves against these killers: like lambs to the slaughter, their tanned bodies dropped to the floor, blood splattering everywhere.

My stomach clenched and I swallowed hard as I felt burning in my throat. Unable to look away, I watched as Kaspar yanked yet another of the men towards him. My mind told me he must have a weapon; my eyes saw none. Instead, he sank his mouth into the flesh above the man’s collar and tore. I caught a glimpse of twisted sinew before the man collapsed to the ground, shrieking. His killer followed him, dropping to one knee and wrapping his lips around the wound, cradling the man in his arms. Drops of blood pooled on the stone beneath them and into the cracks between the paving. My eyes followed it as it seeped outwards, forming a bloody grid, joining with the blood of another man, and another, until my eyes had risen to take in the full carnage they had created.

Every one of the tanned men was dead, or dying, their necks broken or bleeding; several had sunken to the bottom of the fountains, staining the water a grim red. One man near me lay on his back, his head so contorted his ear rested on his shoulder.

Six teenagers had just slaughtered thirty men.

I whimpered on the bench, drawn as far into the shadows as I could possibly get, praying to every deity alive that they wouldn’t see me.

‘Kaspar, are we going to clean this one up or just leave it?’ said the one who stood nearest the fountain, even his fiery red hair dull compared to the water he swirled his fingers through.

‘We’ll leave it as a little message for any other hunters who think they can cross us,’ he replied. ‘Scum,’ he added, spitting on the nearest limp body.

His voice had lost its cool and had been replaced with a deep, satisfied sneer, and anger began to override the fear as I watched him carelessly kick the arm of another dying man out of his way, causing him to let out one last meagre moan.

‘Jerk,’ I breathed.

He froze.

So did I. I held my breath, stomach knotted. He can’t possibly have heard me from across the square. That’s just not possible. But slowly, almost leisurely, he turned so that he faced me.

‘Well, what do we have here?’ He chuckled darkly, voice carrying, his lips curling into that same cruel smirk.

Instinct worked faster than my mind and before I knew it I had jumped up, sprinting my way across the square. Leaving my heels far behind, my feet thudded against the cold stone as I ran, literally, for my life. The nearest police station wasn’t too far, and I would bet on the fact I knew London better than them.

‘And where do you think you’re going, Girly?’

I inhaled sharply as I crashed into something hard and cold, so cold I sprung back from it instantly. Standing right in front of me was the dark-haired man. I recoiled, eyes darting from the spot he had been stood in before to where he stood now. That really isn’t possible. I backed away, my hands grabbing at the air behind me as though they expected some magical saviour to appear. He didn’t even flinch, as though a girl running into his chest was an everyday occurrence.

‘N-nothing. I was just going to … err …’ I stuttered, my eyes cycling between the bodies, the man and the road: my only possible escape route.

‘Going to report us?’ he questioned. He already knew the answer, but my eyes widened guiltily and he leaned in so close that I could see that his eyes were a vivid shade of emerald. His voice lowered to a whisper. ‘I’m afraid you can’t do that.’

Close up, I could not help but notice how staggeringly handsome he was. Something deep in the pit of my stomach stirred. I recoiled again, repulsed.

‘Like hell, I can’t!’ I yelled, ducking around him and making another frantic getaway. Running, I glanced behind me. To my astonishment, none of them pursued me. Spurred on I kept going, the tiniest spark of hope striking into life in my heart. I was just metres away from the road when I stole another look over my shoulder.

This time he seemed to give an exasperated sigh and I didn’t allow myself to watch any longer, not wanting to slow down. My feet were just about to step out onto the road when I was yanked back, a hand clutching at the collar of my coat. I teetered, fighting for balance whilst also fighting the hand that restrained me. I wrestled, kicking and screaming, but it was no use – he held me with ease.

Turning around with my eyes ablaze and sounding a lot braver than I felt, I screeched out a threat: ‘You have ten seconds to get off me, freak, before I kick you so hard in the bollocks that you’ll wish you were never born!’

He chuckled again. ‘You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?’

As he laughed, I caught sight of his upper canines, both perfectly white. Perfectly white, and tapered to an unnatural point.

Hunting. Hunters.

Something in my brain registered that this was not normal. Not even close to normal, but just as quickly, rational thought dismissed the conclusion my mind was rapidly forming.

Struggling again, I tried to get close enough to kick him, but his grip tightened on my collar, holding me firmly away.

‘You saw all of that.’ His words were chillingly cold. It was a statement, not a question, but I answered it anyway.

‘What do you think?’ I retorted, pouring as much sarcasm into my voice as I could muster.

‘I think you’re going to have to come with us,’ he growled, taking my elbow and beginning to drag me away. I opened my mouth, but he was quicker. He clamped a hand down on my lips. ‘Scream and I swear I will kill you.’

And, thrashing and biting, I was dragged away; dragged away from the gruesome bloodbath these pale monsters had created.

TWO
Violet

We flew through the streets, speeding to a sprint as we left the square. Kaspar had a firm grip on my wrist, tugging me along in his wake. His fingernails cut deep into my arm and I felt them tearing open my skin, gouging out considerable amounts of flesh. I winced – it was like falling over and scraping my arm in slow motion – but did not say anything: I would not give him the satisfaction. We weaved from alley to alley, Kaspar at the front, leading us down roads I never knew existed. Already, I could hear the whining sirens of police cars and the side streets were awash with flashing blue lights.

‘Bloody police,’ Kaspar snarled. ‘Wait here,’ he ordered. He thrust me forward, straight into the chest of one of the other men. ‘Fabian, look after Girly here.’

For the second time that night I hit something rigid. He too was cold and I sprung back like I had been stung, toppling over into the gutter beside the pavement. But I never reached the ground. I looked down at my arm, caught in midair by a hand almost as pale as my own.

‘Don’t fall,’ a soft voice said. I followed the arm up, dazed, to find the smiling face of the boy who had jumped over me in Trafalgar Square, sky-blue eyes twinkling down at me with some sort of amusement. For a brief, ludicrous moment I admired his fair, untidy hair and muscled chest, just visible beneath the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, before my mind caught up and I pulled my hand away, horrified at my thoughts. Unperturbed, however, he carried on.

‘I’m Fabian,’ he said, holding the same hand back out.

I shrunk away, rubbing my hands and wrists on my coat where his blood-tainted hands had touched me. He frowned, eyeing me as I backed away, his hand left hanging in the air.

‘We won’t hurt you, you know.’

Four other pairs of eyes watched, tensed and waiting for me to run. But I had given up hope of that. Instead, I was relying on the fact that this Kaspar would be gone long enough for a passing police car to spot us.

‘That back there’ – he gestured along the street – ‘was necessary. I know it doesn’t look that way but you have to believe me when I say it needed to be done.’

I stopped. ‘Necessary? It’s not necessary, it’s wrong. Don’t patronize me, I’m not a child.’

The words were out of my mouth before I had time to think about anything beyond wanting to buy myself time. My hands tightened around my wrists and I stopped rubbing. They seemed shocked that I had found my voice and Fabian’s eyes darted behind me every now and then.

‘Then how old are you, one who knows so much about morality?’ He cocked his head to one side and I closed my mouth, hesitant about whether to tell them but glad they had ignored the rest of my outburst. ‘Well?’

I bit on my lip. ‘Seventeen,’ I murmured.

‘I didn’t know seventeen-year old girls wore such short dresses these days.’

Jumping at the sound of a conceited voice behind me, I spun around, my dark hair whipping behind me, heavy fringe settling over my eyes. Kaspar was leaning against a lamppost with his fingers in his pockets and his thumbs sticking out, a grotesque smirk tugging at his lips again. His eyes raked my form and I wrapped the coat tightly around myself to try to cover the flimsy dress.

His smirk widened. ‘Blushing really clashes with those purple eyes of yours, Girly.’

I flinched at his reference to my eyes – an odd shade of blue and the reason behind my name. I should have been used to the mockery. Between having freak eyes, a matching name and being a devout vegetarian, I had my work cut out dodging jokes. I opened and closed my mouth several times. But as my eyes naturally averted, his smirk vanished.

‘Go!’

The others had already disappeared, swallowed by the darkness of an alley, whilst I was thrown violently sideways, landing behind a line of bins. I looked around, dazed. The only light came from a seedy bar further down the alleyway, tucked between a fire escape and an overflowing skip. Heaving for breath, winded, I began to clamber to my feet, but a hand clamped down on my mouth, the other yanking me fully up as I was half-dragged, half-carried along the alleyway, feet coated in grime from the paving.

Just as we rounded the corner at the end of the alley, blue lights illuminated the brick walls. A drunkard, slumped against the skip, shirked away, moaning loudly and muttering curses even I reddened at. But his groans could not drown out the growing sound of sirens, rising to a crescendo just a few streets away.

‘You have to run faster,’ Kaspar told me. The panic was absent from his voice but it was written in every other feature of his face. Every face was the same. I recoiled.

‘Are you fucking crazy? Why should I run faster for you? You murderer!’ The words were pouring from my mouth, unchecked – the adrenalin was back and it was banishing the fear.

His eyes flashed dangerously and for a moment I thought they lost their emerald gleam. ‘We’re not murderers.’ Though he did not raise his voice nor change his tone it still sent shivers running up my spine, making my hairs stand on end.

‘Then what are you and why did you kill those men?’

The question hung in the air; nobody offered a reply. Instead, I was pushed onwards, tugged from alley to alley, changing direction as the police cordoned off more and more of the city, working just a road behind us as we fled the centre.

London was coming alive. Every window reflected cyan blue as the protective ring sprawled outwards.

‘Come on!’ Kaspar hissed, tugging on my sleeve.

‘I can’t!’ I screeched. And I really couldn’t. A side stitch clutched at my ribs and my breaths were coming in short, sharp rasps.

‘Tough,’ he said coolly.

‘I can’t b-breathe,’ I gasped, trying to do exactly that. A few tears leaked from my eyes, which I hastily wiped away. ‘I’m going to pass out and die or something!’

‘Oh, and what a loss that would be,’ he muttered dryly, rolling his eyes.

‘I didn’t volunteer for this!’ I winced, dropping to my knees, wondering why he had gone to the effort of keeping me alive if my death didn’t bother him.

‘No, you didn’t. But you’re a part of it now and how I see it, Girly …’ He yanked me up by my collar. ‘You don’t have any choice. Now go.’

I did not move, still rubbing my chest. ‘My name is not “Girly”! It’s Violet!’

Like a shot he was just inches away from me, forcing me against the wall as his hand wrapped around my neck. A single finger was pressed against my vein, stroking it.

‘And I’m the fucking Prince!’ he snarled, grip tightening. My eyes widened and I struggled under him but his grip just tightened further. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see his face, so close to mine and reeking of blood. A single image flooded my mind behind my closed eyes: the lifeless body of Claude Pierre, crumpled and bleeding on the stone flag.

‘I could snap that pretty neck of yours in two with less effort than it would take for you to squeal,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘So I suggest that you do what we say, because you can’t outrun us and the police won’t stop us.’

I didn’t know what the hell he meant by ‘Prince’ but I believed the rest of it. The sincerity in his voice was equal to the malice. I bowed my head, beaten.

‘Better,’ he murmured. He grabbed my hand and tugged. As I whirled around to follow him, I saw a man sprinting into the end of the street. His dull beige suit looked odd when compared to the narrow streets and sordid bars of the back alleys. His feet slowed and he came to a stop, staring straight at us, his hand shooting up to his head, almost as if in defeat. I inhaled sharply. I knew him. He worked with my father. Or rather he worked for my father.

He took a few hesitant steps forward, his eyes resting on me. For a brief moment, I met his gaze, but he averted his eyes and backed away. With a raised hand, he gestured behind him as policemen and -women rounded the corner. Their steps slowed and they came to a halt, watching us with fear burning in their eyes as Kaspar turned, allowing his gaze to roam across the officers, almost daring them. He exhaled and squared his shoulders, pulling me close to his chest. I tried to fight him and yell out for help, but he twisted my arm behind my back, leaving me yelping as though daggers were being thrust into my side where the stitch was. Entwining his arm around my waist, he backed away a few paces, dragging me with him.

He bent down to my ear and snarled. ‘Too slow.’ Without another word, he swept me up in his arms and flung me over his shoulder. I started to protest, pummelling his back, but he didn’t seem to notice as everything became a blur. The buildings were flashing by and when I looked up, the crowd had gone. In fact, we were not even in the same street. My heart sunk. He had been right. They had not chased us. Why had they not tried to stop us?

In minutes, we had left the chaos behind. I did not want to know how fast we were moving – all I knew was that it was fast enough to make my head spin. I closed my eyes to keep my head and breathing in check, but just a few seconds later my feet made contact with the ground and I landed in a heap at Kaspar’s shoes beside two very expensive-looking cars.

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.

He drew back, his body still pressed against mine, stopping my escape. He looked me straight in the eyes, and my breath caught. They were no longer emerald, but red.

‘Listen carefully, Girly. I am not just any vampire. I am vampire royalty and you will do what I want. So be careful what you say, because you never know when I might be hungry.’ He pulled away, and backed off. ‘Join us or remain here. Your choice.’

I didn’t hang around for him to say anything else. Scrabbling behind me, my hand searched for the door handle. I found it and pulled the door open, falling out of the room. I slammed it shut behind me, and leaned against the marble wall of the entrance hall. I doubled over as my breaths become shorter, hands on my knees, mind overloading. Something warm trickled down my neck and I ran a finger down my skin. Drawing it back, I stared at my now red, moistened finger in horror.

They were not murderers; they were predators.

Something clicked in my mind and adrenalin gushed into my veins and trickled down my neck. I sprinted towards the doors, thanking the heavens the butler had gone.

I had to run, and I had to run now.

Brambles snatched at my skin and my bare feet throbbed in protest as thorns and rotting needles dug into my soles. But I pressed on. I knew it wouldn’t be long before they realized I had fled and if they really were what they said they were – vampires – then they would know I had sought cover in the forest.

Twenty-four hours ago and I would have laughed at that thought. Vampires were works of fiction meant to frighten children. Vampires were mythical creatures girls drooled over. They weren’t meant to be real.

Around me, the pines were becoming taller and the gaps between them smaller. The light that did filter down was patchy and tinged with an early morning mist, meaning that as I slowed and looked back, I couldn’t see much beyond a few trees, let alone the path I thought I had been following.

How could people not know about their existence? How could six vampires waltz into the middle of London and feed on thirty men?

My throat burned and the dampness wrapping around my toes was almost welcomed. Blood trickled down my scratched legs and sweat mixed with grease to slick my fringe back, the tips sticking together. My dress had ridden up and one of the straps across my shoulder had frayed and was threatening to break.

Vampires. It’s ridiculous. Yet …

I reached up and touched the spot where Kaspar had bitten me. It no longer bled and only a few flakes of dried blood remained, which I flicked away. But below that was smooth skin. I pressed my whole hand to my throat, feeling around for a wound. I frowned. There was nothing, other than a small indent in my skin where the bite should be.

A twig snapped. I whipped around; searching for the source of the sound, yet everything was still. My breaths became deep and short, my chest rising and falling in time with each one. A breeze trailed across my skin and I toyed with my hair, staring into the gloom.

Run, the voice in my mind whispered. Or perhaps it was just the wind weaving between the trees. Run, it repeated. But I stayed put, still peering between the trunks.

The silence was broken as the sound of something crashing through the undergrowth reached my ears. Dark outlines appeared in the mist and the voice in my mind erupted with cries to run!

I didn’t need telling twice this time.

Fleeing, I glanced behind every few seconds, convinced that hands were grappling at my flesh, though they were not gaining. Yet I could hear them. Leaves rustled and branches groaned; the mist swirled as though something was moving – and moving fast – through it.

My feet carried me deeper into the forest, but I knew I could not keep this up for long. I was gulping down air but my lungs were empty and another side-stitch clung to my ribs. They would catch me and something told me they would not be so merciful this time.

All of a sudden, I broke free from the trees into a large clearing. I flung out my arms, teetering forward on my toes as I came to an abrupt stop. The earth crumbled beneath my feet and I shuffled back, raising my gaze and taking in my surroundings. I was standing on the banks of a small lake, its dark depths shimmering in the morning sun, a low mist clinging to the opposite bank.

An eerie silence descended. There was no crashing, no sound of footsteps, nothing. I took a lengthy look behind, searching the forest for any sign of the killers I was sure were following me.

The quiet was even more unsettling than the noise and I began to edge around, speeding up to a bolt as my hairs stood on end. As I started moving again, the crashing returned, definitely footsteps this time and they were following me around. As I sped up, so did they, and reaching the opposite bank, I realized they were circling on the other side too. I had nowhere to run.

I backed up as far as I dared, waiting, like prey herded into a trap.

Without warning, six figures leapt from amongst the trees, and in fright I scrabbled backwards, forgetting that I stood on the very edge of the bank, and with a shriek, I was sent floundering down into the water.

Before I even hit the surface I felt its chill and saw my skin turn an icy blue. As the water erupted around me, it poured into my still shrieking mouth. I coughed and spluttered, gulping down even more. My legs flailed and searched for the bottom, more resembling an octopus than a human being. Nevertheless, I broke the surface long enough to snatch a breath. But it wasn’t long enough to scream as something that felt like seaweed wrapped around my ankle. With one yank, it pulled me back below the surface. Looking down, I realized it was a tentacle wrapped around my leg, and that I was face-to-face with what looked like a giant squid.

I groaned in my mind. Why can’t my life be normal?

Panicking, I started attacking the tentacle, trying to pry it from my skin but the squid didn’t seem to notice and just pulled me deeper. My lungs began to burn and scream for air and I realized there was nothing I could do but give up.

My mind became fuzzy as something white flashed in the corner of my eye. A white light. How very original. I vaguely recognized that it was moving and that its blurred outline resembled a body before my eyelids fluttered and then shut.

Kidnapped by a vampire, death by squid. How tragic.

FOUR
Kaspar

‘Violet! Wake the hell up!’ Fabian said, bending over her limp body and slapping her cheek. He raised his hand to hit her again when her eyes flew open, water spewing from her mouth. I caught sight of the fleshy roof of her mouth and her teeth, fangless. Fabian sprung back, yanking his hand away. But I stepped forward, finishing the job for him. My hand came into contact with her skin with a satisfying crack and her cheek became a bloody red.

Fabian turned to me, his eyes becoming black. Kaspar, he growled in my mind.

I shrugged, pushing my dripping fringe from my forehead. ‘Just making sure,’ I replied, aloud. Her dress had become sheer and my eyes roamed over her body, wondering what I had done to have such a good specimen cross my path. Fabian pulled his jacket off and slung it around her shoulders as she sat up, his consciousness lingering around the edge of mine.

But she didn’t miss my gaze either. ‘Oh, Kaspar, my hero,’ she said between gasps of air, her voice thick with sarcasm.

‘And yes, you are the damsel in distress,’ I answered, equally sarcastic, pulling my soaking T-shirt up and over my head.

‘That’s all the thanks you’re getting, so I suggest you take it,’ she muttered, clearly thinking I wouldn’t notice her stealing a glance at my chest. I ignored her, shouting to Cain and the others to start heading back. Two of us should be able to handle a half-drowned human girl, even if she was a little feisty.

Fabian offered her a hand and she got to her feet, only to drop again, her eyes – such an unusual colour for a human – becoming unfocused. Fabian caught her and I stepped forward, sighing, resigned to the fact I would have to carry her. Her eyes slid back into focus and back out again as she squirmed and buried herself deeper in Fabian’s arms.

‘You take her,’ I said to him, figuring she would be less likely to kick up a fuss. He whispered a few words in her ear and picked her up. Sure enough, she was good as gold. I raised an eyebrow at him and he winked, his hand wrapping around the back of her bare knee. I turned away, stepping into the shadow of the trees.

Behind, I heard her question him about the squid. His reply was vague as he glossed over the details of where it had come from and who had given it to us.

Around us, the mist was lifting and the main grounds came back into view. I extended my mind, curious, and touched upon hers. Right away I was hit with a barrage of emotions, the first being fear and the second anger. Images of the water and her phobia of swimming blurred with those of Trafalgar Square, which floated again and again to the forefront of her mind like a stuck record player. Snapshots of her friends and family passed through too and one of an ageing man in his fifties caught my attention. I focused on it and then recoiled from her mind like I had been slapped.

I stopped and whipped around. ‘Girly, what is your surname?’

‘Lee,’ she said. ‘I already told—’

‘Who is your father?’ I demanded.

‘He’s a very powerful man,’ she retorted.

‘Quit with the damsel stuff, it really doesn’t suit you,’ I growled. ‘And besides, I would bet my inheritance that my daddy could beat the crap out of your daddy. But what is his name? What does he do?’

She raised her chin, triumphant. ‘Michael Lee and he is the Secretary of State for Defence.’

I exchanged a glance with Fabian who looked as though he might drop her.

‘Shit,’ I said.

‘You’ve done it this time, Kaspar,’ Fabian groaned in my direction, his eyes changing to become colourless, matching my own and betraying his worry. The girl stared openly; as soon as I met her gaze she looked away and I was glad that despite her sharp tongue, I retained power over her. ‘The King won’t like this,’ he added.

No, of course he won’t. Neither will the council. I said nothing and surged back towards the mansion, Fabian following at a slight distance as he fussed over her, adjusting her body in his arms so he wouldn’t hurt her.

The run allowed time for panic to set in. I was already on thin ground with the council, where a no-confidence vote against my position as heir was only ever a misdemeanour away. Bringing the daughter of a man so high up in government into our world, therefore breaching multiple treaties, was definitely in the sin category.

Why didn’t I just kill her?

When Fabian caught up I immediately grabbed her wrist and dragged her up the steps. She winced and trod lightly, and I briefly took in her battered feet. With a resigned sigh, I tugged harder.

‘What are you doing?’ she demanded, digging her heels in despite the obvious discomfort.

‘Getting out of this mess,’ I responded, relieved to see my sister, Lyla, waiting at the bottom of the staircase inside.

‘Do you think you could get out of this without slicing my wrist up?’

My stride was shorter than usual as I faltered slightly, struck by a sudden admiration at the ease with which she accepted our existence, mixed with irritation at her boldness. This girl just does not give up.

Lyla – more irritating than any sopping wet human girl could ever be – worked her features into a scowl, which was particularly effective on her usually doll-like face. She took Violet’s wrist without a word to her, instead focusing on me.

‘You really screwed up this time, little brother,’ she growled. Violet stared up at the other woman – who was almost a head taller and considerably slimmer – with utter awe. Lyla ignored it. She knew the effect she had on both sexes. Have fun with your fucking human war, she finished in my mind, sweeping upstairs with Michael Lee’s daughter in tow.

I wasn’t concerned about any war. I was highly unlikely to survive to see it, with the King’s wrath progressing across the entrance hall.

Fabian dropped to his knees in a very low bow, screwing his eyes shut and crossing his fingers at his sides. ‘Your Majesty.’

I straightened and clasped my hands behind my back, looking at anything but the hollow grey eyes piercing me. Pleading ignorance of her namesake wasn’t going to work, and so I accepted the brewing storm with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. ‘Good morning, father. I brought breakfast.’

FIVE
Violet

‘Here,’ said the girl who introduced herself as Lyla. She smiled as we stopped by an open door about halfway down the corridor. She stepped through. I hesitated but, after a moment, followed her.

The room was huge. The wooden floor gleamed, although a large black rug covered most of it; on that rug a mahogany four-poster bed stood, deep indigo drapes falling to the floor. Black and purple voiles hung around French doors, boxed in by iron railings on the outside. Beside them were several arched windows with ledges just large enough to sit on.

I soaked it all in as Lyla began bustling about, pointing out different things, although I was only half-listening. ‘That’s the wardrobe – walk-in – over there. We’ll get you some stuff, but until then, you can have some of my clothes. I mean, you can’t be that much bigger than me. The bathroom is just across the hall.’ She frowned. ‘We thought you probably shouldn’t have an en-suite, but there’s a washbasin if you need it in the wardrobe,’ she added, brightening. She smiled again, but it faded as she turned back to me. ‘Don’t say much, do you?’

I stared at her. If she thinks I’m going to start having a friendly chat, she has another thing coming. Especially as I was beginning to feel quite sick: I wasn’t sure I had coughed up all of the water I had swallowed in the lake.

She shifted. ‘Well, you should get out of that dress, so I’ll leave you.’ She began to back away and then stopped. ‘I’ll get the servants to bring some food up to you too. You’re a veggie, right?’ she asked. My eyes widened even more. How can she know that?

I didn’t reply and after a while of just standing there, she headed towards the door. But just before she left, I spoke.

‘You don’t seem like a murderer,’ I blurted.

She laughed, like an adult who laughs at a child asking a stupid question. ‘That’s because I’m not.’ With that, she closed the door and left.

As soon as she had gone I dashed towards the wardrobe, diving in and finding the basin in a small room within the wardrobe, which was as large as my bedroom at home. I leaned over it, gagging a few times and wishing I could just throw up so the horrible lurching in my stomach would go away. Eventually, I did.

Splashing my face with water, I sipped a few drops from my cupped hand, holding them beneath the cold tap. My eyes never left the mirror but all I could see was Claude Pierre falling to the paving, dead, over and over again.

You shouldn’t dwell on that, the voice in my head said. Focus on your own survival.

It had a point and I wrenched my gaze away from the mirror, walking back into the wardrobe. A full change of clothing had been laid out for me and I flung it on, glad to take off the soaking and torn dress. The jeans were a little tight around the hips, digging into my skin and it took some effort to pull the T-shirt down over my breasts. But they were dry, so they would do.

When I went back out, a tray had been left on the bedside cabinet. On it was a plate of sandwiches cut into minute triangles, a rectangle of paper and a glass of water, which I drained in one swig. Picking up the paper, I left the sandwiches untouched. I unfolded it, revealing a note written in a sprawling and almost illegible script.

Violet,

You are free to roam the house whenever you please, but do not go into the grounds. If you come across my father, curtsey and address him as ‘Your Majesty’. I will do what I can if you need anything – just ask the servants to call me.

H.R.H Lyla

P.S. Murderers kill for pleasure. Vampires kill to survive.

I read it through twice more before crushing it into a ball and throwing it into the corner of the room. ‘Screw you,’ I muttered, walking over to the French doors. I tried the handle, fiddling about for a minute. It was locked. I guess they’re not taking any chances. Not that I would come out too healthy dropping from the first floor anyway.

I leaned my head against the cool window, smashing my palms against the glass, frustrated, feeling the huge barricades I had thrown up around myself beginning to crumble. I knew I could not be strong much longer and my eyes stung as tears started to prick them.

The hope I had maintained dissolved, replaced with an increasing sense of frustration as I realized I had no control of the situation.

I walked back and pulled the huge silken blanket from the bed, wrapping it around my shoulders as I curled up on the ledge of one of the windows, listening to the gentle tapping on the window as rain started to fall. It lulled me in my exhausted state. After a while, the drizzle became great sheets that battered the grounds, which in the sunlight had looked lavish, but just looked bleak and hostile now; or maybe that was because I now knew what stalked those grounds.

How cliché, I thought as the first claps of thunder sounded, shaking the window. A storm. I closed my eyes, holding the tears in as somewhere deep within the mansion a clock struck nine times.

I will not cry over a bunch of messed-up murderers. Never.

SIX
Violet

The rain still pummelled the glass when I woke up. It was dark outside and the blanket that I had pulled from the bed had slipped off my shoulders, piling in a heap on the floor. A few drops of water slid down my cheek as I prised it away from the window-pane, which I had steamed up with my breath. I slipped off the ledge and reached down to pick the blanket up. As my fingers closed around the silken sheet, there was a sharp jab in the underside of my wrist, like someone had thrust a needle into my arm. I dropped the blanket, hissing, and squeezed my wrist between my thumb and forefinger until the pain began to ease. My fingers twitched, leaving behind a dull ache, as though I had just had an injection. Clutching one arm to my chest, I inched over to the bed, patting the bedside table until I found the switch on the lamp. Flicking it on, I placed my wrist under the light.

Large welts coated my arms where Kaspar’s nails had dug in and a network of cuts and grazes extended all the way down both. My hand wandered to my neck. Vampires. It was surreal to think I was sat in a house full of them; it was all completely crazy.

Yet you can’t deny it, the voice said and I shook my head, trying to mask it with other thoughts.

A few drops of rain plummeted from the top of the window outside. I blinked. Drip, drip, drip. Behind my closed eyelids, I could see a stained body lying on the pavement.

No, I can’t deny it. I don’t want to deny it. If I do, that would mean a human had done that to another human. Vampires are monsters. Monsters do horrible things. Humans don’t.

The clock beside me read 5 o’clock in the morning. I rubbed my eyes, realizing this was the earliest I had been up in years and that it must be the next day, August 1st. One day. One day would be long enough for the police to find witnesses, set up a search party and start to find me. There was so much evidence. The friends I was with. My heels. The man who worked for my father had even seen me. Yet he had done nothing.

An uneasy feeling crept through my chest. What if he had known about vampires? Had he kept away because he knew he would put his own life at risk? It wasn’t too far a stretch to assume that people within the government would know about vampires – someone must know about them. If he knew and he didn’t do anything, does that mean they won’t come after me? I didn’t want to think about it. My father would come find me. My father wouldn’t abandon me, not even to vampires.

Or would he? said the voice in my head.

I glimpsed Lyla’s note, on the carpet. Picking it up, I read it through once more. She had mentioned being free to roam the house and I was desperate for a wash to get rid of the grime on my feet.

I dropped the note and darted towards the door, stuffing one of the sandwiches – dry and stale now – into my mouth. Pressing my ear flat to the door, I listened. It seemed to be silent outside, but the door was wooden and probably thick so that didn’t mean much. I took a deep breath and opened it, to find the corridor empty. A little way down on the opposite wall there was a door, which must lead to the bathroom that Lyla had mentioned. Opposite that, on the same wall as ‘my’ room, there was a set of double doors. They were panelled and would have blended in with the wall if they were not set back a little into an alcove. Two gas lamps hung on brackets, one either side, although they were not on, leaving the corridor to be lit by the natural light that was beginning to stream in from the window at the other end of the corridor. I edged down, tensed and ready to spring back into my room if I needed to.

Nobody came and I began to relax, allowing my hand to wrap around the knob of one of the doors. It was smooth and warmed at the touch like glass, although it had the same appearance as the marble downstairs. I placed my other hand on its twin and turned. The one on the left glided around and clicked with no effort, but the one on the right was stiff and would not turn. The left door swung open a fraction. I stared at it. Should I? The temptation was strong but curiosity really would get the cat killed this time.

Just as I started to shut the door again I heard footsteps coming from the stairs. My heart hammered and I jerked forward, bursting through the doors. Shutting it with as little noise as possible, I kept hold of the handle to stop it from turning and clicking shut.

I waited, petrified, and only when everything went silent again did I allow myself to take in the room. It was huge – much bigger than the one I had slept in. All the walls were wood-panelled, and an all-black, wrought-iron four-poster dominated the one side and a fireplace the other. Above the mantle, which was strewn with magazines, there hung a painting of a man and a woman. The man resembled Kaspar, although he looked older. I took a guess that it was his father in his younger days. The woman beside him must be his wife, Kaspar’s mother, judging by the hand of the man placed on her bare shoulder. She sat upon a stool, her emerald dress hugging a curvaceous figure, dark chestnut curls tumbling down to her waist, which was so tiny it must have been encased in a corset. Her eyes were wide and bright, full of the same colour and sheen as her dress. But what really caught my gaze was her skin: whilst her husband’s was pale and papery, her skin had a tinge of olive in it, although the sunken sockets of her eyes were encircled by deep purple rings – she was without doubt a vampire.

I trod as softly as I could around the bed, almost tripping over a guitar that poked out from under the bedstead. A breeze stirred my ankles and, as I neared the fireplace, the black drapes that hung around the open French doors moved. A feeling of unease crept up my arms. Doors are left open when someone is not far away. The lamps dotted about the room had been left on too, although first light was beginning to filter through the trees and across the grounds.

Forcing myself to be calm, I reached up on my tiptoes and ran a finger across the canvas of the painting. It was thick with dust and as I wiped it off it floated away in clouds, smelling heavily of musk mixed with that of expensive cologne, which already hung in the air. I waved my hands in front of me, coughing and spluttering. I can see – or rather smell – why they left the doors open. I grabbed one of the magazines to try waft the dust away, but took one look at what was on the cover, blushed, and dropped it, realizing just who this room must belong to.

‘Crap,’ I breathed, backing away towards the door. I didn’t bother to check whether anyone was outside as I practically fell out of one door and through another into the bathroom. It slammed behind me and I was relieved to find it had a chunky bolt for a lock, which I slid across.

Turning, I was once again struck by the grandeur. The whole room was almost entirely made out of red marble, even the bath. The shower was of the same larger-than-it-needs-to-be proportions and would fit three and still leave room to move. It was spotless too: there wasn’t an old toothbrush or squeezed-to-death tube of toothpaste in sight.

I fiddled about with the shower dials for a while, confused by the settings until water poured from the shower head. I began to strip down, but caught sight of my reflection in the mirror and stopped. I was not a pretty sight.

My hair looked as though electricity had been passed through it and bits of twig clung to the knots. There were countless cuts and grazes dotted about my neck and mud was smeared across my face, mixed in with my smudged make-up. The rest of my body did not look any better. Dried blood caked my arms and my feet were brown and muddy and I realized I must stink. But it was my eyes that looked the most pitiful. They looked old and weary, as though they had seen a hundred years of suffering, not two days.

I shook my head and turned away, disgusted and angry. I continued to strip down and stepped in, letting the water run over my sore muscles.

I got out when the water ceased to feel warm on my skin. I grabbed a towel, dried myself and got dressed, slipping back into the T-shirt and jeans. I wrung as much water as I could out of my hair and darted back to ‘my’ bedroom, freezing as I noticed somebody had been in and tidied up.

The blanket that I had moved the day before had been spread back out on the bed, the sheets tucked in. The plate of food had been removed and, right on cue, my stomach growled. I ignored it, dropping onto the bed. But it only got worse and I realized I would have to go and search for Lyla to get some more food. She didn’t seem that bad, but the prospect still wasn’t a great one.

Outside in the corridor, things were still quiet, although I sensed that wasn’t because everyone was asleep. I passed the double doors, unnerved at the fact the room must belong to Kaspar. When I reached the top of the staircase, I leaned over, thinking I could ask the butler where Lyla was. Just as I did, Fabian emerged from the downstairs corridor. I jumped, trying to scamper back into the shadows but he spotted me and smiled.

‘Morning,’ he said cheerfully, stopping. I didn’t reply but eased back towards the banisters, eyeing him with caution. ‘Hungry?’ he asked. The mention of food set my stomach off growling again and he chuckled. ‘Guess so. Come on, I’ll find you something.’ He gestured for me to follow him and started walking towards the living-room door. When I didn’t follow him, he paused, smiling again. ‘I’m not going to do anything to you. I promise.’

He looked sincere enough and I scrambled down the stairs until I caught up with him. He opened the door and led me across the living room and through another door. It was like stepping through a time portal. Whereas the main entrance hall didn’t look as though it had changed in hundreds of years, the passage we walked down was thoroughly modern and, as we entered the kitchen, I was hit by an array of stainless steel and glass counters, cabinets and tables, although the floor was made of the same marble as the entrance.

Fabian rounded the breakfast bar and began searching through the cupboards. ‘Do you like toast?’ he asked, his head popping up above the counter. I nodded, hoisting myself up onto a stool. ‘Toast it is then,’ he said, dropping a couple of slices of brown bread into a toaster. I watched him as he pulled a plate from another cupboard, fascinated by his fluid movements. He met my gaze.

‘Hey, I know I’m inhumanly hot, but you don’t have to stare.’ A huge grin appeared on his face and he winked.

I blushed a tomato red and my eyes hit the floor before bouncing back up to him. ‘I wasn’t staring.’

He put his hands in the air. ‘Sure,’ he chuckled. ‘Good to see you talking though. You don’t strike me as the shy type.’

He’s right, I thought. I’m not usually shy, but then again, I’m not usually being held captive by vampires.

I continued to watch him as he pulled the door of the fridge open and took the butter out. Before he closed it again, I caught a glimpse of several tall bottles containing a red liquid that didn’t look like wine. I shuddered.

‘I’m sorry I can’t do anything nicer than toast, but we only keep snacks in here,’ he nattered, spreading the butter on the bread, which was burnt around the crust. ‘The servants usually cook downstairs when we actually want food and not blood.’

He slid the plate towards me, took one look at my face and then spoke again. ‘Okay, you have questions.’

I nodded, biting on my lower lip. ‘Can I ask anything?’

For a second, a flicker of doubt crossed his face, but it soon disappeared. ‘Of course,’ he replied. I didn’t speak for another minute or two as I rehearsed what I wanted to say in my head. He said nothing, pouring a glass of juice and pushing that in my direction too.

‘It’s real, all of this, isn’t it?’

He placed his elbows on the counter and rested his chin in his hands, watching me with as much fascination as I had watched him. ‘Yes. Why?’

‘I don’t want to believe any of this, but I do. I’ve seen too much not to.’ I tugged on a strand of hair, picking out patterns in the marble floor.

‘‘How many have you killed?’

‘I’m not sure I should tell you that,’ he murmured.

‘How many?’ I repeated.

‘Hundreds, thousands, maybe … I lost count,’ he said. I felt my eyes widen and I leaned away from him. That many? He shook his head. ‘Don’t look at me like that, that is a pretty good track record considering I am two hundred-and-one.’ The calm blue of his eyes dissolved and became black.

‘What about the others?’ I managed to whisper, my voice hoarse as I fought back the horror.

‘Kaspar, thousands, and Cain, around thirty, but only because he isn’t full-fledged yet. I’m not sure about the others.’

My fingers gripped the edge of the steel counter, warming the spot they touched. ‘Can’t you drink donor stuff?’

‘We could.’

‘But you choose to kill people instead.’

‘No,’ he hissed and I was taken aback at his sudden change of tone. ‘We choose to drink from humans. We don’t set out to kill them.’

‘Oh, I see,’ I breathed. ‘Was that the plan when you killed all those men in Trafalgar Square? Because it didn’t look like you were just dropping by for a pint to me.’

His eyebrows lowered. ‘That was different.’

‘Was it?’

He didn’t answer and I went back to my toast. Aware that he was watching me, I lowered my head and hid behind my hair, which was drying and twisting into ringlets. It chilled me that he could talk of the people he had killed as though they were just numbers and not people with loved ones and hopes and dreams. It chilled me even more that he wanted my approval. But they were his prey and it was probably easier for him to think like that.

‘I know you think that we’re murderers, Violet. And I know you would do anything right now to get out of here, but maybe, for your own sake, it would be better if you hold judgement until you know us better.’

I didn’t move my gaze away from the plate, afraid he might see my eyebrows arching in disbelief. I’m not going to get to know you any better, I thought. I’m not going to hang around for long enough.

Don’t be so sure, the voice in my head chuckled. It wasn’t my mind imagining someone chuckling, but the actual sound, bouncing off my skull. I heard Fabian say something and I blinked a few times, coming back to my senses.

‘What does full-fledged mean?’

He walked around the counter and pulled up a stool beside me. I shifted my stool back. ‘Changing the subject, are we?’ His eyes had returned to blue and a watery sheen coated them, making them twinkle in the light that slipped through the small windows high up the walls. ‘A fully-fledged vampire is an adult vampire.’

Seeing my confused face, he smiled. ‘A vampire born into vampirism – yes, most vampires are born and not turned,’ he added, interrupting himself. ‘A born vampire ages normally until he or she is eighteen. As in each year, they look a year older. They are not fully grown yet, so they are slightly weaker and not as thirsty. Cain is sixteen, so he won’t be full-fledged for another two years. Get it?’

I flicked a crumb across the plate. ‘Sort of. But what happens when a vampire reaches eighteen?’

I went to flick another crumb, but the plate tipped and fell off the edge of the counter. I cringed, waiting for it to smash. But the sound never came as Fabian reached down and snatched it from midair. Unfazed, he placed it back on the counter, brushing the remaining crumbs onto the floor.

‘We get faster and stronger,’ he said in a low voice, watching me watching him, my mouth ajar. He had moved so fast; so effortlessly. ‘And we start to age, but very slowly. Centuries pass and it doesn’t put a year on us.’

‘So vampires aren’t immortal?’ I asked, feeling a slight spark of interest.

‘Theoretically, no. But it’s such a slow process, we practically are. The oldest vampire in the Kingdom is hundreds of thousands of years old and he is still going strong.’

‘Wow,’ I breathed. I couldn’t even grasp being that old. A thousand questions popped into my mind, as I buried the initial repulsion. ‘Can you go out in sunlight?’

‘Yes, but we’re at risk of getting really bad sunburn. So pushing me outside won’t kill me if you are thinking about it,’ he said, pulling funny faces and making it look as though he was melting. ‘And if you are thinking of bumping me off, feeding me garlic bread will just make my breath smell; buying me a necklace with a cross on it will just make me look religious and giving me a shower in holy water will make me smell rather pleasant.’

I snorted into my drink at his mockery. ‘How do you kill a vampire then?’

‘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.

SEVEN
Kaspar

‘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.

EIGHT
Violet

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.

Tucked away in what must be the back of the mansion, I came across a large wooden door. Scratches lined the frame and someone or something had gouged chunks out of the wood, exposing the paler rings below. The brass doorknob was blotched and smeared, like it had been used over and over. Unlike the ones downstairs, it didn’t warm up as I wrapped my fingers around the metal.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I glanced each way down the corridor, as what sounded like a whisper floated along the walls. Far away, a door slammed shut and the gas lamp flickered and with a pop, went out.

Startled, I ripped my hand from the brass and turned and fled. I didn’t stop, even when I realized I must have taken a wrong turn. I wasn’t superstitious, but something about that corridor had chilled me to the bone and I didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

I was getting more and more lost when 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. I doubled over, catching my breath.

‘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.

After a minute, I recovered my voice. ‘You’re Kaspar’s little sister?’ I asked, bending down to her level.

‘And Cain’s and Lyla’s and Jag’s and Sky’s,’ she chimed, doing another pirouette.

‘Who are Jag and Sky?’

‘They are my big, big brothers. They are really old,’ she stated with pride. ‘I like them better because they are fun when they come and visit from Romania.’ She pouted, looking down at the ground. ‘All the others are mean when I ask to play games.’ Her bottom lip quivered and I panicked at her complete change of mood.

‘Hey, don’t get upset.’

Her little eyes filled with hope, and she looked up at me. ‘You’ll play a game with me, won’t you?’ She tightened her grip around my hand. ‘Will you carry me?’ She didn’t wait for me to answer, but took a few steps back and made a running leap – I only just caught her in my arms. Realizing I didn’t have much choice, I complied and followed her directions down the corridor.

‘Do you have a sister?’ Thyme asked, twiddling with my hair.

‘I have a little sister,’ I answered. ‘She’s thirteen.’

‘What’s her name?’ she asked with vague interest, more preoccupied with my hair.

‘Lily,’ I answered.

‘That’s a pretty name. Do you have a brother?’ she carried on.

‘I did. But he died,’ I mumbled.

‘That’s sad,’ she replied.

‘Yeah, it is,’ I breathed.

‘Do you have a mummy and daddy?’ I turned my head and saw her cute little face twisted with something I couldn’t read and she tugged a strand of my hair, making me wince.

‘Yes, I do.’ I stopped myself, wondering why I was volunteering so much to a little girl. My eyes misted over and a sick feeling clutched at my throat. Homesickness. ‘What about you? Do you have a mummy?’

‘Mummy can’t be here at the moment,’ she said with a blunt tone far beyond her years. ‘My daddy is always too busy to play with me. He is always in a bad mood.’

We fell into silence for a while. She started playing with my hair again, twisting it around her finger.

‘You’re really pretty.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, unsure how to take the compliment. ‘You’re really cute,’ I replied.

‘I know.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘I wish I had a sister like you. You are nicer than Lyla and much nicer than those horrible girls Kaspar keeps bringing home,’ she muttered darkly, again sounding far older than she must be.

‘Girls?’ I asked, trying not to seem too interested.

‘His friends. But they always stay for the night and they are really mean to me,’ she blabbered.

It didn’t take much brainpower to work out what these ‘friends’ were here for. Again, she seemed content to play with my hair until I felt a cold breeze on the back of my neck and I almost dropped her.

‘What the heck are you doing?’ I screeched as she ran her teeth up and down my neck. She pulled away, giving me a toothy grin.

‘I’m not going to bite you, silly!’ She giggled. ‘I’m smelling you.’

‘Well, don’t do it. It’s not very nice.’ I replied, trying to keep my cool whilst eyeing her with suspicion.

We wandered through the corridors until she finally pointed out a door, telling me it was her playroom. We went in and she soon had her dolls lined up, ready to attend a tea party. She kept me captive for what seemed like hours, although it can’t have been much more than one.

‘Thyme, I think I had better go back now,’ I announced at last, setting aside my imaginary cake and tea. Her eyes became round and a sheen coated them, but she gave in when I remained firm.

‘Okay,’ she said in a wistful tone. Taking a hold of my hand, we headed off again. She led the way as I had no idea where we were until we broke out into the light of the entrance hall. We crossed and were just passing the staircase when Kaspar appeared from behind the banisters.

‘Thyme! Why aren’t you with your nanny?’ he barked. I froze. Thyme wiggled out of my grip, scurrying behind me and peeking out from behind my leg.

‘Give her a break, she was looking after me,’ I explained, trying to dislodge her from my jeans.

His face went from blank to furious in less than a second and I saw his eyes become black. ‘Thyme, go to your room. I need to have a word with your friend here.’ His voice echoed across the hall and Thyme disappeared in a flash. Although his tone remained steady, there was a steeliness to it that made me regret opening my mouth. I knew he meant business when he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me through one of the grand doors that mirrored the entrance.

Wow, talk about a ballroom. The door we had just entered through was raised on a balcony overlooking a huge room, at least the size of several tennis courts put together. The walls were made of white marble flecked with gold and the huge pillars that were embedded within the walls were coated in gold leaf. The floor was wooden and so well varnished it resembled liquid more than anything else. At either end there were two arched, cathedral-style windows and to the left a throne had been set upon a slightly raised platform. But what really caught my eye was the chandelier dangling precariously from the ceiling. Hanging from a central ring, tiny baskets woven from glass cupped thousands of black candles, all unlit. As Kaspar shut the door behind us, a gust of air whipped through the air and stirred the glass. A few of the baskets jostled each other and they were so delicate that I half-expected them to break. Instead, they chimed and continued to ring long after the baskets had stopped moving, chased by the echo of the door closing.

‘How dare you tell me how to treat my own sister?’ He only needed to whisper as his voice travelled across the empty room. ‘You know nothing of my family! Nothing!’ he hissed, as he clenched and unclenched his fist.

‘I know enough.’

He narrowed his eyes and the dark circles below them became even darker and the area between his nose and the corner of his eyes became shadowy too. He stared and something began to feel out of place in my mind. I searched through, feeling restless all of a sudden. I thought he might say something, but he just kept staring and as the bugging sensation increased, it hit me. He is in my mind.

I realized he could see every memory and struggled to focus on one thing. Thoughts seemed to slip through my grasp like water and, giving up, I settled on the word jerk. I screamed it in my head and pretty quickly, I felt him withdraw.

‘Jerk? I suppose Fabian told you how to guard your mind. Pity.’ He placed a hand on the wall beside my head and I went to sidestep away, but he placed his other hand on the other side of my head, trapping me. ‘No. You know nothing of my family.’ His body pressed up against mine and my nose wrinkled in disgust as I tried to fold into the wall, away from him. He bent to my ear and spoke. ‘Do you fear me, Violet Lee? Do you know what I could do to you?’

I could smell blood on his breath, copper and iron, mixed in with the heavy musk of cologne that smelt identical to the one that hung in the air of the bedroom with the painting.

‘I know what you can do.’ The tip of my tongue ran over my lips and I could taste salt. ‘But I’m not scared of you.’

He hummed a low, disbelieving note, which I could feel rumbling in his chest, pressed to mine. ‘Do you lust for me, Violet?’ He might have said something else, his voice was so low, but there was no mistaking that smirk as he drew away to enjoy my reaction, allowing his lips to brush my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I forced myself to keep my voice steady. ‘No.’

‘Then why is your heart beating at twice the rate it should be?’ I bit my lip, realizing he was right. It was pounding against my ribs like there was no tomorrow. ‘And why are you flushing?’ My cheeks were hot like I had stood in the sun for hours. ‘And why,’ he said, roughly grabbing one of my wrists and pulling it up to my eye level, ‘are your palms sweaty?’ I didn’t want to look, but I stole a glance. Right again. I averted my eyes.

He hummed again, satisfied this time. ‘Humans. You hide nothing.’ I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he let go of my wrist and ran a hand through his hair, pushing his fringe back, which just flopped right back into place. ‘Don’t be ashamed of it though, Girly. I’m royalty, I’m rich and I’m damned good looking. I’m designed to be attractive to humans. But you’re resisting.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Why is that?’

Oh, where to begin? ‘Because you are a bloodsucker and a murderer. And a jerk. The list goes on.’ My body might betray me, but I wasn’t truly attracted to him: I was repulsed.

His head snapped up, and his eyes, a dark, forest green around his large pupils, met mine. ‘Is that so? Well I will get to you, Violet Lee,’ he lingered on my name, drawing his sentence out. ‘You will give in to me; I will make sure of it.’

‘No. You really won’t get me.’ I made to move to the side, away from him, but he placed his hands either side of my head again, dragging his nails down the wood, making a horrendous screeching sound, like chalk on a blackboard. He ran his hands all the way down, until they reached my waist. His hands moved around to my back, pulling me into him, and he began to close his fist around my waist, pinching the skin just below my ribs.

‘Get off me! You have whores for this!’ I shrieked. His eyes found mine in an instant and I saw recognition in them.

His irises became as black as his pupils. They lost all shade and tone – they were black, just black. ‘You will pay for that one, Girly,’ he said, his voice trembling.

In one swift movement, he had brushed away the hair from my neck and pushed my head away. In the corner of my eye, I could see him lowering his jaw to my neck and I began to duck away. But he grabbed a fistful of my hair and tugged. I yelped, seeing him bare his fangs as he forced me onto my tiptoes.

‘Don’t!’ I begged, cowering away from him.

‘I will teach you to fear me,’ he growled, taking no notice of my pleas for mercy. ‘And I will make you regret the day you ever stood in Trafalgar Square.’ With his taunting words, I felt pain as his fangs pierced my skin. They drove deep into my flesh, ripping my skin. I cried out in pain, unable to stop curses spewing from my mouth as stars flickered in front of my eyes. But every time a word formed my jaw moved and the skin on my neck stretched taut over his fangs, releasing a dribble of something warm, which trickled down to the round collar of my T-shirt.

He extracted his fangs and his tongue chased the drip, leaving a trail of saliva. He sucked at it, his lips forming words against my skin. ‘Sweet,’ I thought he said.

He rubbed his thumb across the material of my collar and brought his eyes up to meet mine once more, but my eyes flicked to his lips, which I saw were coated in blood. My blood.

I felt weak and my knees began to buckle. Only the force of him pushing me into the door kept me upright. ‘The Princes of this Kingdom always get what they want,’ he breathed and drew away from me, leaving me to crumple to the floor, pale and sickened. He watched me slide to the ground and, unable to bear the smirk on his lips, I buried my head in my arms, drawing my knees close to my chest.

‘Keep denying me and you could make your time here very unpleasant. And believe me, Violet Lee: your time here shall be long.’

With that, the door slammed, leaving me whimpering on the floor, very quickly learning how to fear him.

NINE
Violet

‘How about this?’ Lyla jabbered, pulling clothes down from the racks of her gigantic wardrobe and passing them into the arms of a waiting maid – Annie. ‘Seems like your style.’

She held up a black skirt – more like a belt – and pressed it against her stomach, modelling it. It was short, to say the least.

‘I think the dress I was wearing the other day was a one-off.’

She hummed with an obvious tone of disbelief and added the skirt to the growing pile in Annie’s arms. I shifted, uncomfortable, leaning up against one of the mirrors. ‘Listen, Lyla, you really don’t have to lend me all this, I—’

She cut me off. ‘Violet, you might think we are all murderers, but we have a basic standard of hygiene here and that includes changing your underwear. So while you’re here, you play by our rules.’ She shot a warning look in my general direction and I closed my mouth. There was nothing I could say to that.

My thoughts wandered as she continued to pick out clothes for me, insisting they were cast-offs she never wore. The scene with Kaspar yesterday preoccupied my mind as it kept playing itself over and over like a stuck record, tormenting me. I hadn’t told anyone about it. I didn’t plan to. Not out of consideration for him, but for the sake of avoiding even further humiliation. It felt private.

‘Earth to Violet,’ an exasperated voice called. ‘I said try them on. You’re bigger than me and I want to know they fit.’ She pushed me into the washroom and one by one, Annie handed the outfits through.

When I emerged, she was draining a glass of something red that smelt faintly of alcohol. ‘All good?’ she asked, turning to me as I walked out. I nodded. ‘Vodka and blood,’ she explained, noticing that I was eyeing the drink. ‘Enough of that and that’s about as close as a vampire can get to sleep.’ She drained the last few drops and handed Annie the glass. ‘Fetch me another one. I’ve got a blasted headache.’ Annie curtsied with the faintest trace of a disgruntled expression, but Lyla didn’t seem to notice the rudeness in her words.

I began to pick up the clothes when she piped up again. ‘If you ask me, it would be far easier just to buy you more clothes – I mean, you’re going to be here a while – but Kaspar doesn’t seem to think you’re worth it.’ My hands balled into fists around the handful of clothes I was carrying. ‘No offence, of course,’ she added, watching me.

It wasn’t Kaspar’s lack of concern that bothered me, (although I was keen to avoid the subject of him) but the assumption that I was hanging around. I nodded, trying to look unbothered.

‘So vampires can get headaches? You’re not immune to all that?’

She laughed. ‘God, no. We can get headaches, stomach aches, sore throats, that type of thing, but not anything serious or complicated. And not any STDs, luckily for the likes of my brother. Still, vigilance at all times. Use condoms and all that.’ I blushed at her reference, trying not to think too much about it. She walked into her bedroom and I made for the door, clothes in hand.

‘Hey, no rush,’ she said, smiling. ‘I get bored of just having the guys around. Female company wouldn’t go amiss.’ She patted the cream sofa in the corner of the room and, after hesitating, I joined her, letting the pile rest on my lap. After a moment of awkward silence, I spoke.

‘Do the others live here?’

‘Fabian and Felix and the rest of them? Yes. This is their second home,’ she answered.

‘Why?’ I probed.

‘Oh, they like to go hunting together, kick slayer butt, that sort of thing. Passes the time.’

‘Right,’ I replied, pretending that her answer sounded normal. More questions bugged my racing mind, but I knew better than to ask them. I had to be tactful with those questions if I wanted to remain alive.

Back in the relative privacy of my own room, I curled up on the ledge beside the window. It was raining again – what little sun we would get for the year had been and gone in June. My eyes began to droop, and I walked over to the bed. I couldn’t be bothered to change, so I just slipped off my shoes and swung under the covers. I hadn’t even shut my eyes, however, when there was a loud bang, which sounded as though it came from the walls itself.

There was a second bang and I sat bolt upright. I stared in fear across the dim room; I was sure it was coming from the opposite wall, and therefore, the walk-in wardrobe. My fingers tightened over the sheets.

But there was no other sound and I plucked up the courage to slip out of bed and investigate. Taking a deep breath, I pulled the door open and dove for the light switch in one move, not wanting to look up until there was light. Yet there was nothing there and my hammering heart calmed a little. Glad of the carpeted floor as it cushioned my steps, I crept forward, until … bang!

I jumped back, startled as I realized it sounded like a door slamming, or heavy furniture being pushed across the floor in the next room – Kaspar’s room. With it, came a voice and my cheeks flushed so bright that I would put a tomato to shame.

‘Oh, Kaspar,’ someone giggled. A woman. ‘You’re so dirty.’

I back-pedalled out of the wardrobe, followed all the way by groans I didn’t want to hear. I bounded back into my bed and tried to muffle the sound by smothering myself with a pillow. But it didn’t work. I lay awake, my eyes wide like I had placed matchsticks under my lids, pulling out my hair in frustration as I was forced to listen as they went on and on and didn’t stop.

TEN
Violet

‘Annie!’ I screeched, running flat out down the downstairs corridor. ‘Annie!’ I repeated as I slowed down at the servant’s staircase, which spiralled downwards into the bowels of the mansion. At their bottom was a vast network of kitchens, used to cook for the royal family upstairs at formal events. Beyond that were launderettes and small, dim rooms for the servants to sleep in. It was here that I was spending most of my time, away from Kaspar and Fabian and the others. Here, no one took any notice of me, nor lusted for my blood because most of them hated drinking it as much as the idea revolted me – it was here, at Varnley, Annie had told me, that the vampires who never wanted to be vampires came. The vampires turned, not born.

I followed the walls of the unlit kitchens, hearing my footsteps echo off the stone walls and curved ceiling, shaped like a cellar. I knew Annie would have heard me a mile off, and sure enough, she stood at the opposite end, arms folded and her tone a little exasperated.

‘You shouldn’t be down here this late.’

I brushed her off. ‘But I have a favour to ask.’

She nodded her head, the blonde curls that she tried so hard to maintain – a throwback to when she was a teenager in the 1940s, she said – flat and dropping around her ears. Her usual cap and pinafore had gone, but the black dress remained.

‘You clean the bedrooms, right?’ I asked, biting my lip because I didn’t know how she was going to react. She nodded once more. ‘Could I help out?’

She gave me a puzzled look. ‘Why?’

‘I have a little surprise for Kaspar,’ I blabbered; keen to get it out as fast as possible.

A sceptic smile grew into an excited grin on her face. ‘What are you planning?’

I had not slept a wink in three nights. Every night had been interrupted by various moans and groans. Each morning, a girl would leave. The previous morning, I’m pretty sure it had been two girls. In the end, I resolved to do something. I hadn’t expected Annie to agree, but she hated the Prince: he treated the servants like the dirt beneath his feet and worse. But when we reached his door, my resolve began to weaken.

Annie knocked and called in a timid voice through the door. ‘Your Highness?’ There was no answer. Again she knocked, harder this time. We waited a minute, and there was still no answer. She poked her head in.

‘All clear,’ she muttered and, entering, quickly began sweeping up.

‘Where did you say he kept them?’ I said in a hushed tone, afraid he might return at any minute.

‘Try the drawers in the bedside table, under the bed, behind the clock and the bathroom cabinet.’

In the back of my mind, I questioned what the hell I was doing, knowing that pushing things too far with Kaspar could get me hurt or killed, yet getting revenge on him for bringing me here, even in the smallest way, was just too tempting.

Besides, they would have hurt you by now if they wanted to, wouldn’t they? my voice said, putting into words what I had become more and more sure of over the past few days.

I began dashing about, pulling open drawers; checking under the rugs. Sure enough, in the bathroom cabinet there was a box, three behind the clock and two boxes in the drawers.

I lay down on my stomach and crawled under the bed. I fought the urge to scream as something scuttled in the shadows and disappeared between the skirting boards and floor. But I hit gold: there were boxes and boxes here, all unopened. I gathered them up and piled them on the newly made bed, along with the others. I did one last sweep of the room, checking to see if I had missed any. I hadn’t.

I returned back to the bed and began ripping the packaging open, emptying the boxes of their contents. I tipped each upside down and chucked all but one of them into the empty boxes into Annie’s rubbish bag and stuffed what had been inside them into my pockets.

‘I’ll be right back,’ I whispered. I slipped out, stopping to check if the coast was clear. I tried to walk casually down to the kitchen, knowing my eyes were shifting from one shadow to the other; sure someone was going to appear. When I reached the kitchen, I headed straight for the fridge and pulled an almost empty bottle of blood from the shelf, pouring the thick ‘drink’ down the sink. There was a definite sweetness to the smell, although that was overshadowed by the pungent stench of congealing blood. And they drank this stuff? Rank.

I left a few drops of blood in the bottom before taking the packets out of my pocket and ripping them half-open. I poked each one into the bottle, before tightly screwing up the lid and shaking it, coating each packet in the sticky liquid. I placed it the back of the fridge and headed back upstairs.

I think I know someone who won’t be screwing tonight, my voice said, dripping with glee and interrupting my thoughts. It rung in my head with no tone, no timbre, but it did not belong with my thoughts, so to save my sanity I was going to assume it was my subconscious.

Running back up the stairs two at a time, I bolted back into Kaspar’s room to find Annie finishing off and tying a knot in the bag that carried the empty boxes.

‘Are you sure he won’t just go ahead anyway?’ I asked.

‘No, ’cause if anything goes wrong, then he’s in trouble.’

I nodded and scrawled a note out on a slip of paper I had found on the mantle – ‘Always use protection, sucker!’

I placed it into the one remaining empty condom box and slipped it back into the drawer of his bedside cabinet, before darting back into my room to wait.

It was near midnight when I heard the first giggles and, peeking out from my door, I could see it was the same leggy blonde who had been over a few times. Charity, I think she was called – she was anything but.

About fifteen minutes slipped by before I heard movement and frustrated exclamations followed by a roar as my door was flung open. Kaspar stormed into my room and glared, his eyes a bottomless black.

‘Recognize this?’ he said between heavy breaths, holding the condom box up, the note scrunched in his hand. I shook my head, trying to focus on that action rather than his eyes, or worse, on Annie, in case he tried to get in my head and read my thoughts.

Charity came in behind him, dishevelled as though she had dressed in a hurry. Her bleached hair stuck out at odd angles and her bright pink lipstick was smudged across the corners of her lips. She glared at me through narrowed eyes. ‘What the heck is your problem?’ she whined, like a child who had lost her favourite toy.

‘No problems. Why, do you have one?’ I pulled my most innocent smile, aware that Kaspar looked a little more than angry.

In a blur he had launched himself across the room. He collided with my side to take me with him and I was sent rolling across the bed, coming to a halt when my head hit the bedside cabinet. I let out a scream as he landed on top of me, pinning me to the bed. I winced through gritted teeth as the corner of the cabinet dug into my spine.

‘Get off me, you horny git!’ I screeched, kicking and flailing, revolted at his closeness.

‘Why, am I making you uncomfortable? Maybe I will use you instead!’ he snarled, a tormenting smirk twisting his face. His eyes were devoid of any emotion – he meant it. Straddling me with one leg either side of my stomach, he forced me deeper into the mattress, pinning my hands above my head. He began to pull my shirt up and I heard squeals of protest from Charity, which merged with the protests of the mattress as I tried to fight free.

But then he was gone. I raised my head a little to see Fabian and Charlie wrestling him away, gaining quite a few scratches. With the tiniest sigh of relief, I scrabbled back up and pulled my shirt down back over my stomach, blushing and full of more anger than ever.

‘What the hell is going on?’ Fabian bellowed. He looked Kaspar and Charity in the eye, as though daring them to lie. ‘Are you all right?’ he added, glancing in my direction. I nodded, wrapping my arms around my middle without thinking.

‘Never mind if she’s all right, she stole Kaspar’s condoms!’ Charity accused, pointing at me.

At that moment, Lyla entered, laughing. ‘Tragic,’ she muttered, but everyone heard. Kaspar shot her a furious look and shook himself free of Charlie’s grasp.

‘Is that true, Violet?’ Fabian asked, assuming the role of the diplomat. My expression of guilt must have answered his question, because he continued. ‘Where are they?’

I shook my head, refusing to answer. A second later, several very powerful, very intrusive minds entered mine and my thoughts became displaced and chaotic. I fought to hide everything, but somehow, the details of my plan slipped through. I could do nothing but hope they hadn’t realized a maid had helped.

‘Kitchen,’ Fabian grunted and Kaspar raced out, followed by Charity. I didn’t plan to follow, but Fabian’s look of indignation corrected that.

‘You idiot,’ he scolded. ‘Why couldn’t you just keep your head down? You’re going to make your life here hell.’

I pushed past him as he held the door open for me. ‘I don’t want a life here,’ I muttered. Not waiting to see if he replied, I headed down the stairs and towards the kitchen. But maybe he’s right. Maybe I have gone too far.

When I got to the kitchen, they were pulling the bottle from the back of the fridge. Fabian tipped it upside down over the sink and a few drops of blood dribbled out. The condoms collected around the neck, ruined.

Charity turned to me, her expression moving from stunned to disappointed to murderous and it was at that point that I knew I was in for it. I turned to run, but she was already flying towards me, razor-sharp pink-acrylic nails bared. Grabbing my shirt she yanked me back and swiped at my face. I felt her nails gouge my skin and howled as she went to take another shot, but came to my senses long enough to throw my full body weight at her. It didn’t do much, but it was enough for Charlie and Lyla to grab her.

‘You’re just a fat jealous cow,’ she spat, wiping her eyes and smudging her make-up so she had a grey ring around each eye.

‘Excuse me?’ I hissed.

‘I said, you’re a fat jealous cow!’

‘I heard what you said,’ I jeered back.

She shrugged free from Lyla’s grip and straightened her skirt, which had ridden up. ‘Whatever. Just keep out of other people’s business, will you? Come on, Kaspar.’

‘Wow. I didn’t know they made bitches and whores rolled into one,’ I muttered as she was just about to pass through the door, Kaspar following like an obedient dog. She froze.

‘Take that back,’ she snarled, her eyes moving from blue to black.

‘No,’ I said coolly and she let out a cry, lunging for me with her eyes transfixed on my neck. I yelled, trying to throw her off. She scratched me once more, but, before she could do any more, we were being yanked apart – Fabian’s strong arms were wrapped around my stomach, as Kaspar pulled Charity away. She wasn’t struggling, but she threw insult after insult at me, which I ignored until she struck where it hurt.

‘You should have killed her while you had the chance, Kaspar. I know what these human girls are like. They’ll come on to anything with legs.’

I surged forward, but Fabian held me firm. ‘Don’t worry; I wouldn’t touch your kind with a bargepole.’

‘Yeah, right,’ she replied, squirming into Kaspar’s arms, stroking the side of his face. Kaspar didn’t respond with the same affection, but pulled her closer, in a mechanical fashion. She didn’t seem to notice. ‘Come on, baby, let’s go hunt for humans; I’m sick of animal blood.’ She eyed me as she said it, knowing what effect it would have.

‘You’re sick.’ My voice was becoming hoarse. ‘Sick parasites.’

Charity didn’t notice. She was staring at the door as the King entered. With downturned faces, the vampires bowed and curtsied. Fabian stood straight with difficulty, his arms still clenched around me.

I did nothing, turning away. Why should I curtsey?

He turned to Charity first, who extracted herself from Kaspar’s grasp and hung her head, managing to throw me a scathing look every few seconds.

‘I will remind you, Miss Faunder, that your father’s position in the council and court is subject to the actions of both himself and his family.’ His deep voice did not waver with anger, but contained a clear menace. ‘Go,’ he instructed, and she disappeared, not waiting to be told twice.

Then he turned to me and I shrunk, pierced by his grey eyes, so cold they sent a shiver running down my spine. Fabian loosened his grip, realizing I was not going to try anything now. ‘You play a dangerous game, Miss Lee. You will end up injured, or worse, if you are not wary of your actions.’

‘Better dead than one of you,’ I shot back, going to leave, but Fabian caught my arm. It seemed as though the King wasn’t finished.

‘Your sentiments will change when you have grown accustomed to our ways, which will happen in time. And time you shall have, Miss Lee, for your father is not foolish. He knows of our power and will not attempt to free you for a considerable length of time, at which point it will be too late.’

My eyes widened. Does he mean what I think he means? ‘My father doesn’t know about vampires.’

Behind the King, Kaspar laughed. It was a cold, hollow laugh, full of mocking. ‘Your father is in charge of the defence of this country, Girly. Of course he knows about us. He knows it was us who killed the slayers in Trafalgar Square and he knows it is us who have you.’

The King raised a hand and Kaspar quietened. As he did, his shirt sleeve slipped down, revealing arms scattered with raised, mottled veins.

‘No charge will be brought against us, Miss Lee. The case will be quietly closed by the Metropolitan Police once the media interest has died down. The idea that your disappearance is linked to you witnessing the killings will be fastidiously denied by your father, as instructed by my ambassadors, and if your father tries anything rash, such as to reveal our existence to the greater population, you will suffer. Unless you turn to become a vampire, you will remain here so you cannot reveal our existence. If you become a vampire and then reveal our existence to humans, you will suffer as we do.’

My mouth opened and my heart dropped through the pit of my stomach. They have everything covered, I realized. ‘You can’t do that. How can you do that?’

‘We are above the law and as I’m sure you can tell, Miss Lee, your situation is rather dire,’ the King said, turning to Kaspar. ‘Miss Faunder is welcome to stay as long as she likes. Whilst she is here, however, Miss Lee is to be confined to her room.’

I started to protest but the King ignored me and left the room, leaving a smirking Kaspar behind to gloat.

‘Is revenge sweet, Girly?’

I scowled at him, and laughing, he left the room. Fabian looked down at me, sympathy shining in his eyes as he led me back to my room.

That night, the groans from the room next door were even louder.

ELEVEN
Violet

It was the morning of August 7th when Fabian came in. One week and the hope I had of getting out had faded. On the bright side, Charity the whore had left.

‘There is something on the news about your family. Do you want to come and see it?’ he asked after explaining I could leave my room again. I followed him, a small spark of hope reigniting as we entered the living room and I saw my photo – a school photo, of all things – plastered across the screen. Above it was the word ‘missing’. The others were gathered around the sofas, watching the screen as the news theme blared and images of various stories flashed up.

The music finished, and the female news anchor on the left looked up from her laptop. ‘Violet Lee, daughter of the Secretary of State for Defence, Michael Lee, was today officially reported as missing.’ My face popped up once again. ‘Miss Lee was last seen on July 31st at around 1 a.m., in the area around Trafalgar Square. Fears have arisen that she may have witnessed the murder of thirty men, dubbed London’s Bloodbath, and been abducted by the murderers. This claim has not been verified by the Metropolitan Police, who are widening their search to include the Greater London area.’

The screen switched to footage of several police officers with sniffer dogs, searching the outskirts of London. My hands gripped the back of the sofa as my knees ceased to feel so solid.

‘It has been confirmed that a high-heeled shoe found at the scene of the murder belongs to Miss Lee, although police have dismissed the idea of her being a suspect.’ A picture of my shoe in a clear plastic bag appeared behind the male anchor’s head. ‘Questions have been raised as to why Miss Lee’s disappearance was not reported earlier, and today the Secretary of State gave in to public pressure and made a statement.’

My father appeared, clutching my mother’s hand. They were sitting behind a table, a rabble of journalists snapping pictures and holding dictaphones. A large picture of me as well as the hotline to call with information scrolled along behind them on a blue screen. I choked a little as I saw them, especially as I saw tears roll down my mother’s cheeks. My father’s expression was calm; controlled.

‘We are working with the police to try and find our daughter, and we would like to thank them for their support,’ he said, speaking without wavering, into a microphone.

A journalist stood up, calling over the buzz. ‘Do you think this may be linked to anti-war protestors, who oppose your decision to send more troops to the Middle East?’

My father shook his head. ‘I refuse to comment on policy. This is not the time or place. We just want our daughter back. We miss her.’ At this point, my mother broke down into sobs; through them, I could hear her begging for me to come home.

My eyes stung as my own tears formed. I wanted to reach out and touch her. I wanted to comfort her; to tell her I was okay, even though I wasn’t; even though I wouldn’t come out of this human. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I was frozen to the spot, wanting to stop watching, but unable to tear my eyes from the screen. Fabian placed a hand on the small of my back. I pushed him off.

‘Since Michael Lee ascended to the position of shadow defence minister and then took up the role with his party’s election three years ago, the family has suffered unparalleled grief. Four years ago, at the age of just seventeen, the Lee’s eldest child, Greg Lee, died after taking a heroin overdose. In October of last year, Lillian Lee was diagnosed with leukaemia and is currently undergoing treatment.’ The reporter finished and I felt the blood drain from my head. Air stopped reaching my lungs as I forgot to breathe.

‘We now have a message from Lillian.’

Lily – my beautiful sister, Lily – came up on the screen. She was lying in a hospital bed, all sorts of wires attached to her wrists. She was paler than the parasites beside me, her arms seeming to have a faint green tinge. Her eyes were sunken and bloodshot and she looked thin and frail, save for her cheeks, which were swollen from the steroids. She was bald, but it didn’t matter. She was my beautiful little sister, cancer or not. She looked so ill, but I knew that was from the treatment.

A microphone was placed under her mouth, and she began to rasp her words. I could tell it took effort.

‘V-Violet. I know you’re out there. T-they’ll let you go and come home.’ She closed her eyes, a peaceful expression taking over her face.

The screen changed back to the newsroom, and the anchor people, looking awkward, began explaining how to contact the police with information.

Hours later, I was still numb. Numb and cold. I couldn’t feel anything: no pain and no hope, no happiness and no fear. Just nothing.

Fabian was holding me and I let my head fall onto his frozen shoulder. His arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into him. I was beyond tears, which I knew he would be glad of: his T-shirt was damp. A thousand and one tissues lay in the bin nearby, and my nose was sore, my eyes red and puffy. My muscles were protesting, hating the contorted positions I had forced them into to escape the pain.

I could feel Fabian’s breath on my hair and for once I was glad he was here. I felt his lips brush the skin on my forehead, and I tensed up, waiting for sharp canines to pierce my skin. But they did not come. Instead, he kissed my forehead, pulling me as close to him as possible.

‘It’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll look after you,’ he whispered, his voice soothing like a lullaby. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Lyla whirl around, eyes ablaze and her fangs bared. A picture of Lily formed once more in my mind and a felt a lump form in my throat. Too soon, Lyla was forgotten, pushed from my mind as the pain threatened to return.

Big mistake, the voice that stalked my subconscious said. But you learn to ignore voices in your head.

***

Hours later again, I woke up from a restless sleep, splayed out across Fabian, who had descended into the half-dream state vampires experience instead of sleep.

Tears pricked my eyes and I wrapped my arms around my chest, as if to hold myself together.

Fabian’s eyes flew open, their enticing blue revealed. He pulled me upright at once and turned my head so my eyes met his. I immediately felt myself calming down, as I fell into their depthless colour.

‘No more crying, okay? I won’t let you cry any more. Your family would want you to be strong, wouldn’t they?’ Concern etched his angular face, twisting it into beautiful contortions.

I nodded and rubbed my nose; his face lost a little of the worry. I blinked and noticed that the others were surrounding me. The King, Lyla, Kaspar, Cain, Thyme, Charlie, Felix, Declan and two men I didn’t recognize. Two beautiful women clung to their sides, a baby in the arms of one, a child clinging to the other hand of the same woman. Both of the men and children all shared the same mesmerizing emerald eyes.

Sky and Jag, I thought. They have to be, with those eyes.

The one with the family looked older and I guessed he was Sky – Thyme had said he was the eldest. The beautiful women I could only assume were their partners. Not one of them looked a day older than twenty-five. Once I had taken in the newcomers I lowered my head to stare at my lap, feeling like a fish in a fishbowl.

Kaspar cleared his throat and I looked up to see him holding a phone in his hand, which he offered to me. ‘Two minutes, no more.’

I stared at it in disbelief.

‘Go on, knock yourself out,’ Fabian murmured, a small smile crossing his lips. ‘You need it.’

I looked down at the phone, uncertain, not sure of whether I wanted to do this. What if it made me hurt more?

Oh, but you want to, don’t you? my voice taunted and I knew it was right. I snatched the phone from his hand and hurried from the room, working the stiffness out of my hands as they gripped the phone like a newborn child.

‘Remember we can hear every word you say,’ Kaspar called as I closed the door of the living room behind me, settling on the staircase. I didn’t really listen and dialled my home number, listening to it ring with baited breath. My heart peaked and stayed there as two rings became three, and three became four. I was nervous. I didn’t know why.

‘Hello?’

My heart fell through my gut and I made a whining sound, and choked out, ‘Dad?’

‘Violet?’ the all too familiar voice replied, astonished.

‘Yeah,’ I murmured in a feeble voice, words failing me.

There was a crackling down the line as though he was covering the mouthpiece and I thought I heard voices at his end, talking heatedly. Then there was another crackle and he came back, speaking with an unnerving urgency.

‘I’m going to assume you’re being listened to, so I can’t tell you much. I know it’s the Varns who have you and I know what they are. It must be a shock to you to discover about all of this and I never intended for you to know about it at all. I know your situation must seem impossible, from what I’ve heard from these bloodsucker ambassadors.’ He spat out the last sentence with such venom, even I was shocked – and I had heard him angry. ‘But it’s really important you don’t give up. Don’t turn, whatever they say or do. Do you understand, Vi?’ When I didn’t answer because I was trying to absorb his hurried words, he pressed the question: ‘Do you? Promise me you won’t turn.’

I stared at the marble floor. Do I understand?

‘I promise,’ I murmured. I heard the door open in front of me and glanced up to see Kaspar slipping through. Leaning against the wall, he folded his arms and eyed me. My two minutes were running out. Meanwhile, my father carried on.

‘We’ll get you out of there, Violet, but it’s going to take time and I need to know some things. Have they bitten you or taken any blood at all?’

Kaspar’s eyes flickered up and met mine. I hesitated and stared. He stared back.

‘No,’ I lied. The tiniest crease of surprise appeared on his brow. Why did I lie?

‘Good,’ my father said. ‘Make sure they don’t try and give you any of their blood whilst taking your blood. That will turn you.’

I shook my head and a few more tears pricked my eyes, which I wiped away, conscious of the fact Kaspar was still frowning at me. ‘You can’t leave me here, Dad. You can’t,’ I muttered, jumping as a small sob escaped. ‘They kill people!’

I heard him sigh – it wasn’t much, but I clung onto it, savouring the sound. ‘I have to, Vi, for the moment, anyway. But we won’t give up, I have contacts and—’

I cut him off as Kaspar started walking towards me. I clutched at the phone with two hands, as though that might stop him taking it and asked the most burning question I had, realizing it was my last.

‘How’s Lily? Quickly,’ I added, trying to put across the urgency.

He picked up on my panic and didn’t hesitate. ‘Weak, but the doctors say she’s doing well and should make a recovery by—’

Kaspar whipped the phone away from my ear, pressing it to his own. As if my hands were nailed to it I followed him, refusing to let go until I found I was clutching at thin air: he had flitted back into the living room and rejoined the rest of his family.

The door was slammed in my face before I could follow him and when I tried the handle, it was locked. Falling against it I tried to listen, but heard nothing.

I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.

TWELVE
Kaspar

‘I think that’s enough time talking, don’t you, Lee?’ I spat, closing the door to the living room behind me and shutting Violet out.

‘Put her back on, Varn.’

I chuckled, aware that my father was stood back, scrutinising my words. ‘I don’t think so. We have to talk business.’

The sound of his breathing down the line stopped: I assumed he pulled the phone away from his mouth. In the background, I could hear him discussing what to say, presumably with one of his poisonous advisors who were so determined to make our life difficult as government policy.

‘I refuse to speak directly with anyone other than your ambassadors or the King,’ Lee eventually replied, coolly.

‘Well, you are out of luck then, Lee. I’m heir and any business of my father’s is mine too. If you have a problem with that, take it up with my father’s advisors. Oh, wait, that’s me.’

I imagined the cogs turning in his head. Sky’s wife, Arabella, took both their children, the eldest only two, into her arms and out of the room, muttering something about disliking the politics. She had made her stance on Violet quite clear – she disapproved of the whole thing; so much so, she had initially refused to visit with Sky from Romania.

‘Then you will do,’ he mocked. He sounds like the girl. ‘You know of John Pierre, I presume?’

John Pierre? Yes, I know him all right.

‘Of course.’

‘And I will assume you are aware that it was his son you killed in Trafalgar Square?’

‘Clearly.’

‘Then I am sure it will not come as a surprise to you to hear that he is not particularly pleased.’

No shit, Sherlock. ‘No surprise whatsoever.’

‘Men fuelled by revenge are the most dangerous. Watch out, Varn,’ Lee snarled.

The whole room stared at me, my father’s gaze the most prominent, listening, waiting for my reaction. ‘That’s not much of a threat, Lee. You are aware that our Kingdom could halve the population of this country in a day, aren’t you?

Tick, tick went the human mind. ‘You might be a leech, Varn, but somehow I don’t think you’re cut out for genocide.’

‘Perhaps not, but I would happily make a start with your daughter.’

The words had hardly left my mouth when Sky held his hand out for the phone, obviously deciding I had done enough damage. I gave it to him gladly and he continued the conversation, Father diverting his attention to him. Jag sauntered up and nudged me below the ribs.

‘Look at you, little brother, talking politics. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have had a personality overhaul.’ Then he lowered his voice and turned so he was no longer facing Mary, his girlfriend. ‘Nice catch for a human.’ He winked at me and left to shower Mary with compliments. So he hasn’t changed in the time he has been away then.

I slipped from the room, tired of the talk. Girly sat curled on the bottom step, her head buried in her arms. I couldn’t hear sobbing, although as she raised her head her eyes were still red and blotched, but gleaming with a hope that changed to an accusing stare once she realized there was no phone in my hand. She scrabbled up and backed into the banister as I passed, her stare following me as I thought I heard her mutter that I was a jerk.

THIRTEEN
Violet

Hours merged into days, every day as insignificant as the next, time passing in a blur, nothing standing out.

I spent almost all of my time cooped up in my room, amusing myself as best I could. It had been a week exactly since that short phone call, and it still troubled my thoughts. I had hoped that I would be able to call my family again, but had given up on that. Nobody talked to me, apart from the occasional, brief exchange.

I sighed, and looked back down at my drawing. I wasn’t much of an artist; I had only just scraped along in Art at school. But the ovals I had sketched resembled a pair of narrow eyes and I knew if I had colouring pencils that they would be emerald green. Beside them was the outline of another pair, rounder yet sunken. Blue. A smaller pair, scribbled in the corner, awake and alive. Violet.

My fingers closed around the sheet and scrunched it into a ball.

It would be my birthday in thirteen days. I would turn eighteen a hostage. My fingers tightened into a ball as I felt a familiar lurch in my stomach and my throat closed up.

A brisk knock at the door interrupted my thoughts and I quickly wiped my eyes, just in case they looked teary. Without waiting for a reply, the person entered as I was standing up. To my surprise, it was not Fabian, who seemed to be the only one interested in me, but Sky.

He cleared his throat, filling the room with a definite awkwardness. I shifted from one foot to the other. ‘You’re wanted downstairs. Now.’

‘Why?’

As he left, his gaze glided up and down my body, taking in my attire – a scruffy pair of Lyla’s old pyjamas. ‘You have two minutes.’

His deliberate avoiding of the question unnerved me, but I was already in the wardrobe when I heard the bedroom door close. I grabbed something a little less inappropriate and changed.

I left the room, wondering what the great urgency was. I had never been requested to be ‘seen’ in the fifteen days I had been here and Sky had never spoken directly to me.

The eldest Varn child was much older than the other five: a thousand, Fabian said, but he was not the heir to the throne. No, Kaspar was heir. Sky was married to Arabella, a few years his junior and they had two daughters. They lived in Romania mostly, as did Jag and Mary; I suspected it was my arrival that had prompted their visit.

The entrance hall was a frenzy of activity when I reached the top of the staircase. It seemed as though most of the household had gathered, all wearing long black cloaks, even tiny Thyme. Servants rushed about, passing various objects around, before hastily bowing and darting off to their next task. I spotted Annie, who gave me the smallest of smiles.

‘It’s like trying to get an army on the move,’ Fabian said, coming up to greet me, grimacing at the bickering of the Varn siblings below. Unlike the others, he wore normal clothes.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked, leaning over the banister.

He grimaced again. ‘It’s a hunt.’ My lips pursed and I swallowed back a gag, realizing why Sky had avoided my question a moment ago.

‘A hunt for what?’ He shot me a look that said, ‘As if you don’t know.’ I closed my eyes. ‘But what do I have to do with that?’

‘They’re going for the weekend, so I’m staying to keep an eye on you.’

Below, Kaspar and Cain snapped at each other, unbothered by what they were about to do. ‘I don’t need babysitting. What the hell would I do? It’s not as though I could go anywhere.’

He shrugged, heading down the stairs. ‘You tell me. But it could be worse. Kaspar could be staying.’ He gave me a knowing look.

That is true. I would be an idiot to trust Fabian, but he was a lesser of two evils when compared to Kaspar.

The King strode forward and, as he did so, the butler rushed forward, swinging both of the enormous doors open. He disappeared down them and one by one, the others filtered after him. Kaspar, however, hung back, waiting for Fabian at the base of the stairs. We both descended.

‘Don’t let her out of your sight.’ He jerked his thumb towards me and I dropped my gaze to the floor.

‘I am perfectly capable of looking after a human, Kaspar,’ Fabian replied testily.

‘Perhaps.’ He went to leave but I dived forward and grabbed his wrist in a sudden burst of energy as my heart leapt. The floor squealed beneath his boots as he swung back around; his cloak slung away from the loose linen shirt he wore underneath, revealing a coat of arms emblazoned on the breast: a black rose, dripping a drop of blood into a large ‘V’ below.

‘Please, don’t kill anyone,’ I whispered.

I thought I saw his eyes soften for a moment. But he tore his wrist from my grip like I was no more than a child, which I realized I must be to him. A child. He walked down the steps after the others, who were already halfway across the grounds, stopping once he reached the lawns, turning back towards me as I stood watching from the open doorway, inhaling the first fresh air in weeks.

His eyes rose from the floor to meet mine. He held that gaze for a moment, before he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, casting all into shadow, save for his glistening emerald eyes. His dark figure lingered for a little longer, until he swept around into the sunset that had bathed the world in pale gold. As he reached the other cloaked figures, they all sped up, becoming a dark blur on the landscape, running into the falling sun and on the hunt as they had been the first time I had set eyes upon their kind.

The moon soon replaced the sun and stars dotted the clear night sky, untainted by the orange glow of the built-up areas. Somewhere, a clock chimed, telling me it was getting on towards midnight.

‘There’s far more to this world than humans think, isn’t there?’ I asked, turning to face Fabian from my window seat.

His face was framed by the dancing fire, which roared in the hearth. It was eerie, watching the orange flames light up his pale skin, lapping at it as though it longed to burn his unnatural presence away.

‘Far more. This is just one royal family of many,’ he continued. ‘But you don’t want to know more. Ignorance is a blessing. Treasure it.’

I nodded. He’s right.

Unfolding my legs, I slipped off the seat and moved myself to one of the armchairs. He looked up in anticipation, by now used to my quizzing.

‘What happened to the Queen?’

I instantly regretted asking, because whatever it was, it had stirred some deep, forgotten emotion in him. He sank back into the chair and his blue eyes flashed to black, and then to grey, where they remained. They were pitiful, lost of all the life they usually contained. If colour could drain from his face, it would.

‘I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,’ I stammered. His eyes glazed over and he didn’t move. ‘Fabian?’

His head snapped up and the greyness in his eyes seemed to melt away, returning to their usual sky blue. His stiff body loosened and he ran a hand down the back of his head.

‘I’m sorry, but when you know someone that long … you …’ he trailed off. ‘I will tell you on the condition that you never speak a word of it to anyone but me.’

I didn’t hesitate. ‘I won’t say a thing.’

‘I will start from the very beginning. It’s a long story.’

I shifted a little, trying to make myself as comfortable as possible, never taking my eyes off his saddened face.

‘Vampires have been around for millions of years, roaming the Earth millennia before humans. Nobody knows how we came about. There are no theories. But we were a peaceful species, and for many centuries, we lived alongside nature without any conflict. We drank the blood of any animal we could lay our hands on, and in turn we were respected as the ultimate predator. We were primitive – but still far more advanced than any other animal at the time.’

He paused for a moment, thinking.

‘If the theory of evolution is indeed correct, then about two million years ago, the first ape-type creatures appeared and, for the first time, the vampires met an animal similar to themselves. But vampires treated them like they did any other: they continued to hunt them. But it all changed when you lot arrived.’

He stopped, looking me in the eye. You lot. Us.

‘These creatures were clever, resourceful and, most importantly, were able to adapt. For the first time ever, vampires had met their match. But they continued to feed from them as they had done with every other animal and quickly developed a taste for their blood. Within a couple of centuries, the only acceptable blood was human; the only blood that would quench their thirst. Most vampires still hunted animals, but it wasn’t the same. But what our ancestors didn’t realize is that they were creating a situation that would cause problems forever more.’

He stopped once more, allowing that to sink in.

‘How can you know this if it was so long ago?’ I asked.

‘Like I said, the oldest vampire is, well, old. He remembers a lot of our history and what he doesn’t know was passed down through his family,’ he answered, before carrying on. ‘As I was saying, the early humans eventually learnt to fight back, and the vampires realized their mistake. The most powerful vampire clan at the time ordered all vampires to go into hiding. They were told to try not to kill a human when they fed, and to hunt at night wherever possible. It was a drastic last minute attempt to prevent the destruction of both species. This powerful family continued to govern the vampires and they eventually became the first royal family. That family was the Varns.’

I nodded. ‘But I don’t get what this has to do with the Queen?’

‘It will all make sense in a moment. Humanity was growing, and fast. Forced by the humans’ relentless fighting, the Varns and a few hundred others fled to Romania – what is modern day Transylvania. The vampires – only a few hundred in number by this point, followed them. They hid in the mountains, ruling from there. They took advantage of the unsuspecting people of Eastern Europe, unaware of the threat living in their lands. Around the same time, it was discovered that humans could be turned and the Varns’ ancestors ordered a mass turning. Thousands became vampires in just one night. Stronger, more confident, they branched out.’

He paused for a breathy sigh, which I realized he hadn’t been taking.

‘But the old rules still stood and no vampire would dare hunt during the day; most rarely went out into the daylight. Unseen, the vampires were gradually forgotten, and stories told by fathers to sons turned into myths and legends. Vampires graced by the old, original ways, remained the top predator on Earth. No other creature lived as long, or possessed the same qualities, not even the...’ He stopped, seeing my panicked eyes, which were screaming for him not to tell me about what else was out there. He seemed flustered himself.

‘But there were always those who never forgot. Those who refused to stop believing. These are the humans who became the hunters and the slayers, and they vowed to protect humanity; to take revenge on vampires for their ruthless hunting, hundreds of thousands of years before. Indeed, they managed to drive most of the vampires from Transylvania about three hundred years ago. Most settled here, in England. A lot went to the Americas too, in search of the wealth it promised. Not that most of the vampires needed it,’ he muttered.

‘King Vladimir, the current king, has ruled for millennia now. But when he was just a Prince, he met a young vampire who lived in what is now Spain. She was called Carmen Eztli. Over time, they fell in love and with the blessing of both families, they married a century later. The match was perfect and together they ruled for almost ten thousand years and had six children.’

He rested his chin in his hands. ‘She was the perfect antidote to the King’s pessimism and temper and, in turn, he tamed her sharp tongue. You don’t find love like that every day.’

I couldn’t help but notice that he kept using ‘was’, but it seemed as though he was about to explain that.

‘Just over three years ago, a new human government came to power. Outwardly, they seemed more sympathetic to our cause, so the Queen, seeing an opportunity, quickly sought the passing of a new treaty to update what had already been signed. The government agreed on the condition that their slayer allies, the Pierre clan, would also sign it.’

He didn’t seem to notice me slipping onto the coffee table as I tried to catch his hushed words, which were becoming quieter and quieter.

‘The Queen went on a state visit to Romania to open up discussions. She went to the Pierre’s ancestral home in Romania, and before she could even … they had leapt on her …’ He was choking up, sobs escaping his lips but no tears falling. ‘They leapt on her, and pushed a stake through her heart!’

My hands flew to my mouth and I took in a sharp breath. ‘She was murdered?’ I didn’t know what I had expected, but it wasn’t that. I felt something wet drop into my lap and, astonished, found tears falling from my own eyes. I glided to his side and hovered beside the arm of the chair, hardly knowing what I was doing.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered. ‘I shouldn’t have brought it up.’ He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his head against my stomach. I tensed at the sudden contact but he didn’t seem to notice how uncomfortable he was making me.

‘It’s okay,’ he murmured back, ‘You couldn’t have known. It was two-and-a-half years ago now but for us that feels like yesterday. It ruined us. She was so loved. Thousands went to her funeral.’ His sentences were disjointed and clipped, his pain at recounting what had happened clear. ‘It was the worst day of my life. So many people cried and, Violet, vampires don’t give up their tears easily. But they did. It was awful. I’m used to people dying, but this … this was different. It was like I had lost a part of me, like half my heart had died.’

I nodded, knowing the exact feeling.

‘Afterwards, everything changed. Nobody was ever the same. The King moved out of the main bedroom and Kaspar had it instead. The King never smiles any more and locks himself up in his study most of the time. He hates royal events, and he will avoid them as much as he can. He died along with his wife.’

His eyes filled with more remorse; more pain; more regret.

‘There were mass killings at that time. Did you ever notice that?’

My eyes went wide. The newspaper article had compared Trafalgar Square to the Kent Bloodsuckers incident, which had happened around that time.

‘And Kaspar?’ I prompted.

‘He took it hard. Harder than the rest of us. He was so close to his mother. But it wasn’t just that. Only fourth and seventh children can inherit the throne, and her death means there will never be a seventh child and he is indefinitely heir.’

His eyes flashed a black-grey once more and his hold around me became unbearably tight. I let out a little whine as my ribcage felt like it was being crushed. He loosened his grip, but his fists remained clenched.

‘His grief changed him. He isn’t the Kaspar I used to consider as good as a brother any more.’ He laughed hollowly. ‘Sure he was a womanizer even then, but that was nothing compared to now. Now he uses and abuses his power, bedding everything that walks, and he thinks nothing of taking a life …’ he trailed off, too traumatized to carry on.

Yes, I knew that Kaspar. But somehow, through my loathing, through everything he had done to me, I felt pity. I knew how he felt. I knew how grief shaped and remoulded your life. I knew how it could make you hate the ones you love with such a passion. I knew how you would do anything just to ease the pain for a single moment.

‘I wish, Violet, that you could have seen us all before it happened. You would think of us differently then.’

I said nothing. I couldn’t agree. That hate of vampires was embedded deep within me, passed from generation to generation, all the way back to those first humans, who had first learned to fear these powerful creatures.

‘And with her died any hope of peace with the humans and the slayers. Now the war is just getting worse.’ He squeezed me, as though I wasn’t on the opposite side of this so-called conflict. ‘It will destroy us, unless you’re one of those who believes in the Prophecy.’

I prised myself away and lowered onto the arm of the chair. ‘Prophecy?’

‘The Prophecy of the Heroines. Some eighth-century crackpot predicted that if nine ‘chosen heroines’ find each other and learn to work together, they could create a lasting peace between us and humanity. But why leave something so important to fate? Everyone believed that the Queen could do it … but now we have to wait for the impossible,’ he finished in a bitter undertone.

‘But do you know what the worst thing is, Violet?’ he asked after a long pause, which included the flexing of his fists. ‘It was planned. We had an anonymous tip that someone within your government ordered her murder. We don’t know who. But I swear, if I ever find out, I will drain someone they love, so they know what it is like to lose someone. So they can feel that pain too.’ He finished, growling, lips rolled back. His eyes were blood red, but flashing to black and back.

I drew back, scared of this side of Fabian I knew of, but had never seen. He looked down at me, his blond hair falling over his livid eyes. Immediately, his expression softened, and his eyes returned to their airy blue.

‘I’m sorry, Violet. You don’t want to know this,’ he murmured softly. He pulled me back to him and I sank onto the arm of the chair, letting the onslaught of information sink in, fitting its way around what I already knew. It made so much sense.

‘You need to go to bed,’ Fabian’s musical voice chimed in my ear. I nodded, my eyes dropping.

I felt him begin to lift me and, in seconds, I was being lowered onto soft sheets. My eyes were just about open when I saw him sweep down. For a moment, panic swept through me, but it faded as his lips, as cold as they would be on a winter’s day, brushed my cheek.

‘Sweet dreams, Violet.’

I heard a click and the lamps went out. Lazy thoughts drifted in and out of my mind, forming the beginnings of dreams.

My father had entered government just three years ago. He didn’t like vampires. My eyes flew open, and I sat bolt upright in bed.

He couldn’t have, could he?

It’s a coincidence, I told myself firmly. A coincidence. Anyone could have ordered her death. Desperate, I placed all thought of it into a box in my mind, locked it and chucked away the key. I would not think about it again.

I must have sat up all night, because before I knew it, the sun was seeping through the delicate voiles covering my window. My eyes blinked furiously, not used to the glaring light creeping its way across the room. I slipped the ruffled covers off myself and slid out of the bed, realizing I was still wearing my clothes from last night. I shuddered, disgusted. My top stuck to my stomach and beads of sweat ran down my back.

I walked towards the window, hoping that it might have unlocked itself. It hadn’t. I smacked the glass in frustration and my stomach knotted up, although that might be something to do with the stomach-ache that was beginning in my gut. I slid down the wall, as homesickness overtook me. Thoughts of my family rushed through my mind: my friends; my room; my home. As every image flashed through my mind, more and more sobs escaped my throat. I just wanted to go home. That isn’t too much to ask, is it?

Sighing, I felt the heartfelt longing ebb away. I hauled myself up and with some reluctance, headed for the shower.

When I got out some time later, I tripped over the rim and by the time I had got dressed, half the bottles on the sink had ended up on the floor too.

Butter fingers, I thought. I snatched them off the floor and placed them back upright. As I stood up, I had to grip the sink for balance as stars appeared in front of my eyes and my temples began to thump. When it had faded, I walked back into my bedroom and dropped onto my front, crawling under the bed to cross off another day on my makeshift calendar. I grabbed a pencil off the floor, and made a small mark on the wall. 16th August. That date rang a bell for some reason. I screwed my forehead up, trying to remember the significance.

Dropping things? Dizziness? Stomach cramps? Messed-up emotions? Panicking, I started counting twenty-eight days back. ‘Crap,’ I breathed.

***

Lyla was away. It was a Sunday, so the maids had the day off. That left Fabian. Great.

I searched most of the mansion – at least the parts I knew about – until I found him swimming lengths in the indoor pool. He broke the surface and seeing me standing there, he smiled, hoisting himself out. My mouth formed a large ‘O’. He was wearing nothing but swim shorts and his stomach was toned. Very toned. Droplets of water ran down his body, gliding over his smooth skin. His almost-white hair was plastered to his face, falling over his eyes and he jerked his head to the side, flicking it away. Oh man. It was like a cologne advert, right in front of my eyes.

‘Morning,’ he said in his usual cheery tone, not even a hint of colour in his cheeks, despite the fact he had just been swimming. He grabbed a towel off a chair nearby and flung it around his shoulders. Before I knew what was happening, he had dropped his shorts, and was pulling a pair of boxers on. I spun around, facing the opposite wall, moving so fast I almost slipped on the wet floor. I screwed up my eyes and felt my cheeks go red hot.

‘A little warning next time!’ I squeaked, mortified.

He chuckled. ‘You don’t strike me as the type of girl who hasn’t seen it all before. So, come on, how old were you?’ My eyes widened, but there wasn’t any point denying it. He was right. I heard the closing of a zip. ‘You can look.’

‘Fifteen,’ I muttered as I turned back around.

He arched an eyebrow. ‘Honestly, back in my day and you would have never seen the light of day.’

I shrugged. ‘But it’s not back in your day. Besides, I have a question.’ He gestured for me to carry on. ‘If I was bleeding, would you be able to resist it?’

He picked a towel up from the ledge that ran around the wall and rubbed it over his hair, drying it. ‘Well, that depends on how hungry I am. I mean generally, I like to think I could exercise enough control. Why?’

‘W-well,’ I stuttered. ‘It’s kind of embarrassing.’

‘Can’t be that bad.’

I grimaced. ‘Well, I might be, you know, on.’

He shook his head, throwing the towel aside. ‘On?’

‘What I mean is, it’s that time of the month when I might be starting, my, you know...’ I made odd gestures with my hands, as though that would explain it. He raised one eyebrow and tilted his head to the side, trying to understand. He shook his head slightly, still not getting it. I grimaced. ‘Period,’ I muttered through gritted teeth. His eyes widened in alarm and became pink, like he was flushing. ‘So, what am I going to do about it?’ I asked, snapping him back from his mortified state.

‘Erm, yeah. Have you, you know, started yet?’

I shook my head. ‘No. But I might today,’ I explained in a hurry.

He nodded. ‘Well, I think Lyla might have some stuff for that.’ His tone made it sound as though it was some disease and he rushed from the room like it was the plague. He came back five minutes later, his arms full of sanitary towels and tampons. ‘Never say a word of this to anyone. I’ve already had a weird look from the butler and Kaspar would never let me live it down.’

‘Trust me, I won’t,’ I promised, piling the tampons into my arms. ‘I’m surprised you know what a period is, actually.’

‘Vampires get them too. Well, obviously only the girls,’ he added, his eyes becoming pink again. ‘But only every few years. They have a longer cycle than humans, which means they are more fertile and can we stop talking about this? It’s grossing me out. And you better go and do whatever you need to do.’ Again he motioned with his hands, implying his meaning. I took the hint and left, hoping I wouldn’t smell like a walking lunch.

FOURTEEN
Violet

So much time passed here unnoticed, as if the sands of time seemed to take pleasure in dropping when my back was turned. Before I knew it, the sun had set over the Varns’estate, Varnley, and the moon would be rising, if it were not covered by menacing storm clouds that rolled in over the forest-covered hills. It had started raining earlier, just as it had on my first night here. I gave the weather merit – the rain persisted right through the afternoon and well into the evening and still fell as night drew in.

Just as I changed for bed, the first flashes of lightning illuminated my dark room. Great shadows were cast on the walls, and I watched, almost in awe, as forks were sent rocketing to the ground. Seconds later, great clasps of thunder echoed over the valley. The voiles covering the French doors swayed a little, as the fierce winds found there way through minute cracks in the frame. I slipped into bed, forcing the childhood fear of a storm aside and pulled the sheets tightly around myself, banishing the cold. I screwed my eyes shut and waited until I fell into an uneasy sleep.

A cloaked figure swept his way through the forest, deep into the parts where rogues ruled. Rogues like himself.

He didn’t make a sound as he walked, his movement fluid, graceful as a lark, but stealthy as an eagle and as fast as a falcon. He had been compared to them all and he enjoyed that.

The figure knew the path well, so he need not look down. Instead, he focused on the ever-nearing building: his destination. It was an ornate building, but quite insignificant considering what it concealed. It was not large and was built entirely of grey stone – granite, perhaps. The figure did not know, and he did not care.

A breeze blew through from the open door, and eager to be done with his business, the cloaked figure descended the steps inside, taking three at a time, impatient. When he reached the bottom, had he been human, he would have felt the considerable drop in temperature and the chill in the still air.

He bowed his head, not out of respect, but to prevent bumping his head on the low roof, and walked quickly down the long corridor, passing the resting place of charred corpses of long-dead vampires. His footsteps were the only sound in the darkness and even he admitted he had to strain to hear them. He smiled to himself. Not even the rats dared venture down here. His ego swelled, knowing only he had the courage to explore the dark depths of the catacombs.

He came to a room and allowed his eyes to sweep across it until they came to rest on a young girl, tied to the legs of the stone throne that guarded the tombs. Her head drooped and there was no colour in her cheeks. Huge gashes on her neck oozed blood and her clothes were ripped, leaving her almost naked – he could see that her young, once-smooth breasts were covered in small scratches and her stomach looked red and swollen, like she had been punched several times. The frayed rope tied around her wrists had gauged out chunks of skin, and a bone penetrated the skin where her ankle should be.

He looked on, disgusted. The rogues could have at least brought him something a little more appetising. He would think her dead if he could not see the pitiful rising and falling of her chest.

He stepped forward. His footsteps echoed in the silence and, startled, the girl raised her head, her eyes searching the gloom and struggling to focus.

‘W-who are you?’ she croaked.

‘Who I am is of no concern to you, but what I am is,’ he taunted, parting his lips to reveal his two sharpened canines.

Her eyes widened in fear, and she attempted to scrabble back, but the ropes binding her prevented her from doing so. ‘Please—’

He cut her off. ‘What is your name?’

‘S-Sarah.’

He smiled once again, revealing his gleaming fangs. ‘Well, Sarah. I have a proposition for you.’ He stooped down to her level. ‘You and I can have a little bit of fun and you can become like me – once I am done with you of course. Or you can become my dinner and … die. Your call.’

Her eyes widened, and tears trickled down her cheek. ‘Just kill me. Please,’ she sobbed – at least, he thought it was sobbing. It sounded more like the whine of a dog.

The smile dropped from his face. This was not what he wanted. Lust and thirst were pumping through his system, driven by his dead heart, and he wanted to have his way. He wiped her tears away with his thumb, grimacing as grime coated his fingers. He stroked her cheek, rubbing his thumb in small circles, fighting to keep his calm demeanour.

‘Are you sure, Sarah? We could have so much fun,’ he prompted breathily.

‘It hurts too much! Just end it,’ she sobbed, her head drooping once more. He knew unconsciousness would soon envelop her, sheltering her from the pain. He would not let her get away that easily. He took hold of her neck with both hands, wrenching her free of the ropes.

‘You’re lucky that I am a merciful vampire.’

With that, he broke her frail neck, almost snapping her in two. The crack echoed in the stillness as he felt her go limp. So thirsty now, he yanked her neck towards his waiting fangs and began to drink.

Her blood was bitter and nowhere near satisfying, but it would do for now. He picked up the mangled body in his arms and walked outside, tossing the corpse into the dark forest.

A tiny trickle of blood escaped his lips and slid down his chin. He wiped it away, smiling to himself, already wishing for more.

I sat bolt upright in bed and screamed, the horrendous sound echoing off the walls. Cold beads of sweat ran down my forehead and I was shivering, gagging for breath between shrieks.

‘Violet!’ The door burst open to reveal Fabian, wearing a panicked expression. ‘Violet, are you okay?’ He rushed over to me, untangling me from the mass of sheets that had wrapped around me whilst I slept. Dry sobs tickled my throat and I took several short and shallow breaths, desperate for air, trying to nod my head but failing.

‘What’s wrong? What happened?’ he quizzed, placing an arm around my shoulders.

‘I was asleep …’ I began, confused, my eyes darting about the room, searching for nonexistent answers.

‘Was it a dream, Violet?’ Fabian cooed, peeling himself away from my sweaty side and looking at me through his soothing blue eyes. I nodded.

‘What was it about? Why was it so bad?’ he asked as I took deep, shuddering breaths, unsure of whether to tell him. He wouldn’t understand. How could he? He never slept; never had dreams; never had nightmares.

‘There was a man. And a girl. H-he killed her,’ I sobbed, the tickling feeling returning. Bile rose in my throat as I thought of her begging to die and I gagged a couple of times. ‘It seemed so real.’

‘It was just a nightmare, Violet.’ Fabian muttered sternly; unconvincingly. ‘But tell me if you have any more, won’t you?’

‘Only if you promise not to tell anyone that I have nightmares.’ It was a strange request, but I didn’t want anybody knowing, especially Kaspar.

‘You have my word,’ Fabian assured, extracting himself from my sheets and getting up to leave. ‘Are you okay now?’

I smiled and nodded, and he left my side reluctantly.

But I wasn’t okay. Even as my eyes closed and I tried to drift back towards sleep, a far more disturbing thought crossed my mind. If they were real, then an innocent girl had just died and somewhere out in the darkness of the night, a true monster prowled the nearby forest.

FIFTEEN
Violet

I woke up early the next morning, my dream still troubling me. I was groggy and tired, but eager to be awake before the Varns returned. The sun was breaking through the fluffy white clouds and the day had more of a summer feel to it – finally. I got ready, and headed out, only to stop dead in my tracks when I reached the top of the stairs. My mouth fell open. The Varns had returned. But they weren’t alone. I darted back into the shadows and stared wide-eyed at the opposite wall. I need to go back and change.

‘I saw you, Girly,’ a voice sneered from the bottom of the stairs – Kaspar. All pity that I might have reserved for him after learning of his mother’s fate evaporated with his tone of voice and I groaned. ‘Don’t be rude. Come down.’

Reluctantly, I edged back around the corner of the wall and teetered on the top step, folding my arms around my middle. First to look up was Fabian, who smiled. In a flash, twenty other vampires were staring up at me.

They were mostly men, but there were a few women too, Charity amongst them, shooting me murderous looks. They were a mix of ages, some looking as young as Kaspar, some looking like they should be lying in a coffin.

There was a wolf-whistle from the bottom of the stairs and I looked down, searching for the source of the sound. Leaning against the bottom step was a man, his tussled blond hair cut short, a little stubble on his chin and his skin an odd pale orange in colour. He looked up casually at me, not bothering to hide the fact that he was staring at my breasts.

‘Well, who’s this then, Kaspar?’ He had an American accent – a complete contrast to the Varns’ upper-class British voices.

‘Who’s the leech?’ I muttered, not intending for them to hear, but of course they did.

‘The human?’ The man’s voice filled with glee as he quizzed Kaspar, who nodded. ‘Well, come on down then. I’m sure Kaspar won’t mind sharing.’

I wasn’t going to move but Kaspar’s glare made me think otherwise. I didn’t have to hang around long until his glare turned into a weapon as his eyes scanned the writing on my – well, Lyla’s – T-shirt:

‘SORRY, I DON’T DO SPARKLES. BUT I WOULD TAP VAN HELSING ANY DAY!’

‘Kitchen. Now,’ Kaspar growled. He pointed towards the living-room door and followed me through, rounding on me as soon as we reached the counter.

‘What the hell?’ He pointed at my T-shirt.

‘It’s Lyla’s!’ I protested.

He rested against the countertop and ran a hand down the side of his face. ‘That’s half the council out there and you had to wear it today! God, you are more trouble than you are worth.’

‘Vampires have councils?’

‘Plainly; you were just looking at it,’ Kaspar retorted. ‘Go, just go. But you’re to be down for dinner later. Wear something nicer than that.’ He gestured at my clothes and motioned for me to leave at the same time.

I gave a disinterested humph, and left, climbing the stairs. But as I climbed the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I was compelled to glance behind me. Someone was watching. Sure enough, a young man in the far corner of the room was studying my back with unwavering concentration. He had long silver hair, tied back, and an extremely angular face, with prominent cheek bones. He was not plain, quite handsome in fact, but there was something that made him repulsive. Perhaps it was his stance, looking up at me through his slit-like eyes, expression cold. Or maybe it was his crimson cloak, the same colour as blood. I turned away and sped up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

I crashed on my bed, thumping the mattress in frustration. Dinner with a vampire. Joy.

The clock was nearing six and, reluctantly, I slipped off the bed, sleepy after my afternoon doze. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but I was paying for the early mornings. Lyla had already laid a short, dark brown dress out, which I changed into, disgruntled by how low the cut of the lace neckline was.

It wasn’t long after when there was a knock at the door. Thinking it must be Fabian, I got up to answer. But when I opened it, I did a double-take as I saw who was outside.

It was the vampire from the far corner of the entrance hall. His dark blue eyes were wider now, warmer, and a smile adorned his face. He wore a black suit with a red tie and his long hair was loose.

‘Forgive me, Miss Lee, but I have been sent to escort you to dinner,’ he said in a smooth voice. I blushed.

‘Right.’ I nodded, trying to remember what to say. ‘Err, just give me two minutes, I’m nearly ready,’ I said, backing away and darting back into the wardrobe.

‘Of course,’ he called after me. I ran back in and scrabbled around, searching out a pair of shoes.

‘So who are you?’ I called from the wardrobe.

‘I am the Honourable Ilta Crimson, second son of Lord Valerian Crimson, the Earl of Wallachia.’

I sprung up as I heard his voice right behind me.

‘Do not be scared, Miss Lee. I will not hurt you.’ He reached out and took my hands in his. ‘I am simply inquisitive about your most intriguing future.’ He smiled, a little too nicely, revealing his sharp fangs, which I could have sworn were far longer and pointier than any of the Varns’ or their friends’ fangs.

At that moment, Fabian appeared in the doorway, surprise then anger covering his face. ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded, turning to Ilta. I glanced at our hands, still joined, and wrenched them away.

‘I am here because I was sent by the King to escort her to dinner,’ said Ilta.

Fabian arched an eyebrow. ‘Well, Kaspar sent me, too. Are you all right?’ he asked me, shooting me a look as if I should be shaken.

I nodded, ‘Lead the way, I guess.’

SIXTEEN
Violet

I walked into the dining room, Ilta leading me, Fabian just behind. Candles flickered in their holders on the walls, bathing the room in a soft light. Red drapes were closed over the windows, and in the centre of the room was an extremely long table, covered with a deep red tablecloth and laid with elaborate cutlery – and just a single plate of the china must have cost the earth.

Ilta led me to the middle of the table, where he pulled out my chair for me. I sat down and in a blink he was opposite me, pulling his own chair out. Other vampires filed in after us, taking their seats. Sat next door to me on the left was the American and to my right was Fabian.

After a few minutes everyone was seated and a dull chatter filled the room. I turned to Fabian. ‘Why am I here?’ I whispered, trying to keep my voice as low as possible.

‘Well, as the council are discussing what to do with you in the morning, they wanted to actually meet you.’

‘Why are they discussing me?’ I answered in alarm.

‘There have been … developments.’ He twiddled with one of the many knives and, catching my ever-so-slightly horrified expression in the gleaming blade, he placed it down. ‘Oh, don’t look so worried. You won’t be shot of my wonderful company that easily.’

I wasn’t worried about that. I was worried about the ‘developments’.

‘What sort of developments?’

‘It’s worth more than my inheritance to tell you that. Anyway—’ He glanced towards the door before hooking an arm under my elbow and hoisting me up onto my feet. ‘The show is on the road.’

The door opened and the King entered. Everybody hushed, shifting as they stood, waiting as the chair at the far end of the table was pulled away a fraction and then pushed back in once the King had sat down; only once he was seated did the other thirty guests – including the Varn children – sit down.

I leaned forward, absorbing his presence, noticing that both he and Kaspar wore the same suit, embroidered with the coat of arms. The only real difference between father and son was the arrogant smile that Kaspar wore as he winked at Charity, who giggled, twirling her hair and returning the gesture. As I stared at him, his gaze flickered my way. His smirk widened, but he was distracted as a waiter poured him a glass of blood.

A waiter appeared at my side too, offering me wine. I accepted and he returned within seconds – after only a minute or two, they had filled every glass and they moved to the side of the room, where they retrieved large platters of food. It didn’t look very substantial – there were small canapés and tiny bowls of soup, one of which I took, staring down at the assortment of knives, forks and spoons laid out in front of me, unsure of which to use. I glanced to my right for help, but Fabian and Ilta were already engaged in conversation with those sat on their other sides.

‘Work from the outside in,’ a soft American voice whispered from my left. I looked up, startled to see the vampire I didn’t know talking to me.

‘Thanks,’ I hissed back, taking up the spoon at the very edge. The vampire dipped a spoon into his soup, scooping away from him. I copied his actions, watching how he ate exactly. I grimaced as I took my first mouthful. Asparagus. Yuck.

He smiled a little, amused. ‘I’m Alex,’ he said.

‘Violet,’ I replied, returning his smile.

‘Oh, I know,’ he chuckled.

I raised my eyebrows, displeased that everyone knew my name, but he just laughed once more.

‘So, tell me, Violet, what do you think of the royal family?’ he asked. ‘Honestly,’ he added.

My face fell. ‘They’re all right, they haven’t done anything to me, but Kaspar is …’ I trailed off. He looked taken aback. ‘What?’ I asked.

‘Kaspar and I are friends.’

Oops. ‘Oh,’ I breathed, awkward. ‘Well, I guess he is kind of—’

‘It’s fine, you are entitled to an opinion.’ He smiled, but it looked forced. We fell into silence for a while, then Alex began to start talking animatedly to Fabian, across me. Guess they are friends too. Small world.

I was saved from my solitary vigil by the arrival of the main meal. The vampires all had steak, cooked so rare that blood still oozed from the tender meat. A plate was placed onto the table in front of me and I was surprised to see something vegetarian-looking, which I poked at with my fork, not too sure about it. The room became quiet for a while, as everyone ate. I watched others eat, and I had to admit, it was really quite weird watching vampires eat human food with knives and forks. Very civilized.

‘I hear, Violet, that you were accepted at university. Do tell us what you were planning to study?’ Ilta asked, his slick voice breaking through the stillness.

‘O-oh,’ I began with a nervous stutter, aware that most of the vampires were now looking at me, interested. ‘I was going to study politics, philosophy and economics actually,’ I gushed, knowing it wouldn’t go down too well – it was obvious that meant I was going to follow in my father’s footsteps.

A black box rattled deep within my mind and I frowned a little, trying to lock away what I suspected about my father.

‘Ah, I see,’ Ilta replied. I looked at the floor, embarrassed.

‘You must be an intelligent student,’ Fabian intervened.

‘I guess …’

‘Who are you kidding? Anyone can get into university these days!’ Charity cut in with disdain.

Kaspar raised his glass and I was sure I heard him mumble ‘you couldn’t, Charity’ into it.

‘Indeed. Education is no longer simply for the elite,’ an old man said. His wispy white hair was tied in a long ponytail, his beard flicked over his shoulders. He spoke to Charity, but watched me with an increasingly pensive stare.

Fabian noticed the man’s stare and shifted. ‘Violet, this is Eaglen. He is the vampire I told you about the other night. The old one,’ he mouthed. The man, Eaglen, smiled.

‘Yes, the old one,’ he echoed, finishing off the last drop in his glass, which was hastily refilled. He chuckled and turned away, seemingly satisfied. I arched an eyebrow at Fabian, who shared my puzzled expression.

‘He’s like that sometimes,’ he muttered.

Glasses continued to be filled at the King’s order, but as the waiters moved forward, bottles now empty, they paused, staring at me – the next nearest blood source. I saw Alex and Kaspar exchange worried looks and Fabian did the same whilst discretely shuffling his chair closer to mine. Conversation died away and the room rippled into hush.

‘Violet, go,’ Ilta said, as Fabian pushed my chair back. ‘Quickly.’

I didn’t need telling twice. I scrabbled out of my chair and backed to the wall, feeling my way across the room, too scared to turn my back on any of them. Every bloodthirsty pair of eyes followed me until I reached the door and fell out, slamming it behind me.

I leaned against the wall of the corridor, breathing heavily. A couple of tears escaped my sore eyes and I wished for nothing more than my bed, at home, where it was safe. A knot of homesickness formed in my stomach once more. At that moment, the door opened and Kaspar slipped out. I wiped the tears away before he noticed I was crying.

‘You okay?’ he asked, stiffly. I shrugged, trying to act offhand.

‘They won’t attack you, you know,’ he said. I looked up at him disbelievingly. ‘If they kill you, there could be an all-out war. Believe it or not, we don’t want that,’ he replied, glumly.

‘This meeting is about me and that is why the council has assembled,’ I replied, equally as sullen. He nodded mutely. ‘Why now?’

Sighing, he leaned up against the wall beside me. ‘Because we have been informed that the slayers have made a truce with a group of rogue vampires. They plan to attack us, take you, and God knows what else.’

‘I—’

‘Don’t bother, no slayer will set foot here,’ Kaspar interjected. He stared blankly at the opposite wall, deep in thought.

‘Life is so crap sometimes,’ I mumbled to myself.

‘Tell me about it,’ I heard him say, ever so softly. I turned to him, surprised. He felt my gaze and turned too.

‘I won’t be safe here any more, will I?’ In an instant, he was right in front of me, breathing on my neck, his chest rising and falling in time to mine. My heartbeat quickened.

‘You were never safe here, Violet Lee.’

He lowered his head to my neck, his hands settling themselves on my hips. I backed as far into the wall as I could, but he just pushed himself further into me. I was shaking and my hands clenched into fists, my body tensing, waiting for the onslaught of pain. I tried pushing him away, but he didn’t move – I doubt he even felt me trying to escape. His fangs met my neck, grazing the skin. I whimpered and turned away. He took a deep breath, inhaling my scent. His mouth opened wider and I prepared for the bite.

‘Don’t. Please.’ A single tear rolled down my cheek, as I resorted to begging. ‘Kaspar,’ I whispered. To my surprise, he pulled away, his eyes opening. Another tear slid down my cheek and he caught it with the back of his thumb, wiping it away.

‘I don’t understand why you don’t get it.’ His hand ran down the length of my neck and side, until it came to rest on my hip once more. ‘We lust for you and your blood and your body. You want it too. I can see it in your eyes and feel it in your heartbeat.’

My eyes searched for the floor, but I could only see him.

‘You don’t get that right now I could snap you in half and suck you dry. You don’t get that you are food and that we struggle to see you as a living creature. An equal. Because you’re not.’

‘And you don’t get that I am a person with feelings,’ I breathed.

He backed away a little, taking his hands off me, searching my face with his eyes. ‘No, I don’t,’ he murmured back. ‘You are never safe here, Violet Lee. Remember that. Never.’

He turned his back to me and I could hear him breathing; see his hands balling into fists, fighting the urge to bite. He turned back, placing his hands against the wall either side of my head. ‘Stay away from Ilta Crimson,’ he said, his eyes burning and menace fuelling his words.

‘Why?’ I asked, surprised at his complete change of tone.

‘Because I don’t trust him,’ he growled.

‘You don’t trust him?’ I mouthed, surprised. ‘In case you didn’t notice, he wasn’t trying to bite my head off back there. He is the least of my worries.’

‘Goddamn it, Girly! Why don’t you just listen to me? Just trust me!’ he yelled back, all softness in his nature gone, disappearing so quickly I flinched and hit the back of my head on the wall.

‘Trust you?’ I squealed. ‘Why would I trust you? You kidnapped me! You constantly try to suck my blood! I’d much rather trust Ilta than you!’

‘But you don’t know him! You don’t know what he is capable of!’ Kaspar roared back, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me like a ragdoll.

‘No. You’re right. I don’t know him,’ I replied, more calmly, taking deep breaths. His hands unsnapped from my shoulders like my skin was made of hot coals. I sidestepped away from him. ‘But I’ll take the risk, thanks,’ I spat.

His face lit up with anger, his eyes turning pure black. I turned and walked away, fuming.

‘Where the hell are you going?’ he shouted down the corridor after me.

‘To my room!’ I screamed back, spinning to face him. Our eyes met, and I glared at him for a full minute.

‘On your own head be it, Girly. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ he snarled.

I turned on my heel and stormed up the hall, towards the stairs. But as I reached the end, I couldn’t resist having the last word. I spun around to see Kaspar staring at me, anger still evident in his face.

‘You know what, Kaspar? I wish you had just killed me back in London! Just ended it there. Then I wouldn’t have to suffer this. Why didn’t you? Why?’ I shrieked, and ran, but not before I caught his expression, which spoke a thousand words.

He didn’t know why.

SEVENTEEN
Kaspar

Council meetings really are the best fun one can have, I thought bitterly, staring out the window at freedom. I sat at the far end of the table, hardly listening as my father debated with Ilta Crimson over something or other. His whole family were swindlers. They thought the sun revolved around them, but Ilta was the worst. Quiet, calm and controlled, he was always the charmer. It wasn’t hard to see how Girly was fooled by him. He was a snake. He would slither in, hiss at you until you were lulled and then he would rise up and bite you. Especially if you were much younger and female.

I suppressed my thoughts as the meeting progressed. My only consolation was the firm grasp on my leg, which came from Charity, who sat next to me. She looked up at me with adoring eyes, batting her eyelids, giving me the occasional seductive wink.

She began stroking the inside of my leg and I shuddered, enjoying the feelings of lust gushing through my system. I shuddered again, as her hand reached for the fly on my trousers.

‘Ghost pass over your grave, Kaspar?’ Ilta sneered from the other side of the room, false concern in his voice. His dark blue eyes were crinkled with amusement.

I snapped back from my trance. ‘No, quite fine, Ilta,’ I answered.

My father turned to glare at me. He gave the tiniest shake of his head and I knew he was perfectly aware of the whereabouts of Charity’s hand. I discretely slipped one of my own hands under the table and moved hers back down to my knee. She looked up at me for a moment and feigned hurt. But I knew she was faking it. She always faked it.

‘How do we even know Lee will retaliate with the help of the slayers? Until then, I refuse to even consider a plan of action,’ Lamair declared, placing his hands on the table as though that was that.

I sighed. We had been over this twice already.

‘My dear Lamair, as I said before, we have reliable sources,’ my father said.

Mutterings erupted throughout the room and I resolved to stare at the bookshelves of my father’s study, desperate to entertain myself. I wonder how long it would take to read all of them?

A while, my voice answered.

I gritted my teeth. Nobody asked you.

But you’re still talking to me, it sniggered, which always beat me. Voices aren’t meant to snigger.

Well, you get used to it after eighteen odd years, I finished and it fell silent. It never had an answer to that one.

‘Well then, I say we just kill her. That way all our troubles our over.’

‘No, Lamair. That will cause problems with the human government. We have to be diplomatic.’

‘Surely—’

A vampire I should probably know the name of cut in on him. ‘Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I don’t understand why we are risking the Kingdom for the sake of one human girl? She is not worth a fight with the slayers and a possible loss of good relations with the human government, is she?’

There were several calls of ‘hear, hear’. I noticed Eaglen was unusually quiet. He leaned on his hands thoughtfully, but almost as soon as I looked at him, he raised his eyes to mine and I turned away.

‘This is the daughter of one of the greatest antagonists vampire kind has ever faced. We cannot afford to be rash, for fear of starting something we will long regret,’ my father explained. That one crucial fact – who she was, or rather, who her father was – still didn’t seem to have sunk into their thick skulls. My father turned to Eaglen. ‘You acted as one of our ambassadors to the human government most recently. What is your opinion?’

Eaglen sighed. ‘The government’s and, crucially, the Prime Minister’s stance on us is a no intervention policy – in other words, they turn a blind eye. The PM refused to see Ashton or I whilst we were in Westminster, although he sent his assurances that the investigation into the London Bloodbath will be quietly closed, alongside an insistence that he will not be so compliant in the event of a similar incident.’ He looked pointedly at me. ‘But he is not our problem. Lee is.’ He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table, flicking his hair back behind his shoulders. ‘Lee cannot make a move yet. He has direct orders from the PM not to do anything to threaten national security – he is afraid that any attempt on our lives will result in retaliation and the consequent loss of innocent life.’

Cain, who had looked just as bored as I was, sat bolt up, a spark of alarm in his voice as he spoke. ‘It wouldn’t though, would it?’

Father shook his head.

Eaglen continued, pointing in Cain’s direction. ‘Ah, but we’re better off letting them think that, because as long as we do, Lee won’t do anything. To disobey that order would end his career.’

‘And no job, no power,’ I interjected, following his train of thought.

‘Exactly, young Prince!’ he exclaimed, turning his crooked left forefinger to me. ‘We must remember that Lee doesn’t just want his daughter back, he wants to bring about our downfall.’ That was no secret. Ever since the current government had come to power just over three years ago, Lee had made his intentions towards us quite clear. ‘But he is fully aware that bullets and guns won’t achieve that. So he needs the hunters and the rogues. But the hunters will not liaise with him unless he has power, influence and money.’

Or access to the taxpayer’s money, I thought.

‘The Prime Minister’s orders are to not intervene unless we make any threat or show of violence. If we do, Lee will be ready.’ A blanket of silence descended upon the room and wrapped itself around the table. ‘We need to avoid confrontation at all costs. We cannot kill the girl or force her to turn and we cannot threaten Lee or his government, and presumably the hunters, either.’

‘So what do we do then?’ was Lamair’s uneasy question. I was sure it was one almost every person sat in the room shared.

‘We do nothing and wait until the girl turns of her own free will,’ Father replied. There was a badly hidden gasp of shock. The idea of doing nothing was not one anybody in the room had entertained, clearly. But I gawped at my father for a different reason. If he thought Girly was going to turn anytime soon, he had another thing coming.

‘Quite agreed,’ Eaglen said. ‘We carry on as normal and give them no reason to suspect we know of their plans and no reason to attack. Meanwhile, I suggest we keep Miss Lee as sheltered as possible – there is no need for her to know of the other dimensions with all these prophecy rumours circulating among the Sage. A human knowing the strength of our seers and the Prophecy of the Heroines is the last thing we need. I’m sure the inter-dimensional council will agree to that.’ He waved his hand dismissively. ‘I also propose, Your Majesty, that to ensure her life and her blood are not threatened, you place the King and Crown’s Protection over her.’

Father nodded. ‘It will be implemented with immediate effect.’

‘I think it might be wise not to let her know of that, or about anything to do with her father,’ Sky added. ‘She strikes me as the sort who would act rashly if she knew. Neither do we want to give her any hope of leaving Varnley. She would never turn if that were the case.’

Finally, some sense!

My father cleared his throat. ‘Agreed. Nothing that we spoke of today leaves this room. But for now, this meeting is adjourned until we receive further news.’

I sighed again, exasperated. Chairs scraped and people began to leave the room, bowing and curtseying. Charity skipped off after them, exclaiming excitedly that she was going dress-shopping for the Autumnal Equinox.

‘Try and stay focused next time, Kaspar,’ my father scolded from the opposite side of the room, where he stood waiting for me to join him. Reluctantly, I walked towards him, waiting for the lecture I would undoubtedly receive.

‘Five hours, Father! Five hours and the only thing they could agree on was that Violet should choose to turn. You do know that is not going to happen, don’t you?’

‘That is where you come in, young Prince,’ Eaglen chuckled, limping around the table towards us. I frowned. Eaglen never usually had a limp. He might be old, but he wasn’t frail. Yet he had aged over the summer. His hair was whiter and the fine lines that appeared around the corners of his eyes didn’t disappear when he stopped laughing. ‘And you too, young Earl,’ he added, addressing Fabian who was hanging back, waiting for me. He came forward.

‘You two interact with her on a daily basis, correct?’ my father asked. We nodded.

‘Then you are what she sees of our kind. Give her a reason to believe we are not murderers, which is doubtless what she thinks. Convince her that this is a life she could lead,’ Eaglen instructed. Fabian nodded, almost eager, but I scowled, sceptic.

‘It will take more than that to persuade her to turn.’

Eaglen smiled. ‘When she has lost hope of returning home, it will take far less leverage.’

‘I won’t do it.’

I saw my father’s eyes become black. ‘You will do it. It’s time you took responsibility for your actions—’

‘And accept the consequences of my rash escapades. Yeah, I’ve heard it before. It’s getting old,’ I snapped, turning on my heel and leaving the room. The door slammed behind me with a satisfying bang. But it opened just as quickly again and Eaglen appeared, limping after me.

‘Give it a try,’ he said, patting me on the back. ‘You might have more in common than you think.’

I arched an eyebrow, but said nothing, walking away before I really did get angry. Yet I couldn’t resist one glance back at the aging, but by no means foolish, man, who watched me retreat with a knowing smirk.

What are you playing at, Eaglen? I thought. What do you know this time?

EIGHTEEN
Violet

August 28th brought my eighteenth birthday, and with it little reason for cheer. I had kept my mind well-guarded since I made the connection between the Queen’s death and my father, so nobody realized I was a year older.

I should have been out partying, enjoying my first legal drink of alcohol; instead I was stuck in a living room full of vampires, because sitting up seemed a better option than running the risk of experiencing yet another dream. They were endless, and I didn’t believe Fabian for a single second: they were real. The chill I felt every morning told me that.

Today was August 27th. Which meant tomorrow was the 28th and therefore my eighteenth birthday.

I propped myself up against a couple of pillows, staring blankly into space. I should be out partying, opening presents and having my first legal drink of alcohol, not lying on a bed in the middle of nowhere, afraid to go to sleep.

I glanced at the clock. It was going on 10 o’clock. I didn’t want to sleep. I was too afraid of the nightmares I knew would ensue as soon as I closed my eyes. But I had no choice. My body was screaming at me to close my eyes, disgusted at my self-neglect. I grabbed a tank top and a pair of shorts, changed, and climbed into bed. I tugged the sheets right up to my chin, hoping the warmth would somehow drive away the dreams. I reached over, switched the lamp off and closed my eyes.

But the dream never came. In fact, I fell into a peaceful, unbroken daze until far away I heard bells chiming, resonating in the stillness. Twelve times they rang.

I seemed to be rolling and rolling and I shivered. The air had got cooler. Far, far cooler. Then it went sub-zero.

I scarpered up, screaming at the top of my lungs. My sheets were plastered to my legs and I was soaked: someone or something had poured freezing cold water onto my bed. I heard several suppressed giggles and a low chuckle. In the darkness, I could just make out numerous dark figures surrounding my bed, outlined by the moonlight shining through my windows.

‘What the hell was that for?’ I screeched, shivering.

‘Happy Birthday!’ Fabian sung, a little too delighted.

‘Go away,’ I groaned, kicking the wet sheets off the bed and rolling over.

‘Nope!’

‘It’s midnight,’ I told my pillow, smothering myself with it. When they didn’t go, I grabbed the other pillow and chucked it at the end of the bed in their vague direction. Immediately, it came back my way and landed on my back. I sighed. ‘What?’ I snapped, sitting back up and placing the pillow in my lap. ‘Can’t you just let me sleep? I need sleep, remember?’

As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I could see Fabian and Cain glancing at each other, grins widening. ‘Oh, I don’t think that will be possible,’ Fabian said.

‘To hell it is.’ I threw myself back down onto the mattress and was just curling up when a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and hoisted me up.

‘Hey! Let me down you stupid leech!’ I screeched, pummelling Cain’s chest as he lifted me up into his arms. My legs flailed and I wriggled, but he wasn’t going to let go.

‘No,’ Cain replied, still grinning as we passed Kaspar, who held an empty bucket. I glared at him.

‘But–’

‘No.’

He sped up and everything hung in the air for a moment before we were downstairs and standing outside a room I didn’t recognize. He let me down and I landed on the cold floor.

‘You might think we are totally heartless, to quote you, “murderers”, but we’re not. And to prove that, we decided we can’t ignore your eighteenth birthday.’ A wicked grin spread across Fabian’s face, and my stomach clenched in dread, suspicious.

‘Bah, stop looking so worried,’ Cain said, placing his hand on the doorknob. ‘And don’t tell father. Or Sky or Arabella.’ With that he threw open the door, revealing a large living room I was sure I had never seen before. He stepped through and after Fabian motioned, I followed, apprehensive about what I was going to find. But my face soon lit up when I saw what was waiting on the table: bottles and bottles of alcopops. A bottle of champagne came flying my way and I caught it clumsily, almost dropping it.

‘Many happy returns and all that shit, Girly,’ Kaspar said, twisting off the cap on a bottle of vodka. ‘And crack open the bubbly before I get old, will you?’ he added, gesturing at the bottle in my hands. I shook it and pressed my thumb against the cork, holding it as far away from my face as I could get. I screwed my eyes shut, waiting for the resounding pop which turned out to be a bit more pitiful than I hoped. Instead of going flying, the cork landed at my feet and a few bubbles dribbled from the rim – not exactly Formula One worthy.

‘Less wasted, I suppose,’ Kaspar said, taking the bottle from my hands and pouring it into several glasses, handing them around. ‘To Violet’s first legal drink!’ He raised his glass in the air and everyone followed. I stared at mine and blushed. Kaspar must have already had a bottle or two. He was far too jolly. I watched as he downed the champagne in one and then picked up the bottle he had just opened, taking a long swig from that too. Staring at the label, I realized it was neat vodka.

Fabian turned to me, pouring himself a second glass of champagne from the bottle which was practically empty now. ‘How do you feel about getting totally wasted?’

Something in my brain said vampires, but something else far more overwhelming said alcohol. I smiled. ‘I’m totally fine about it.’

***

Four shots of vodka, three alcopops and two glasses of champagne later, I wasn’t so fine about it. My head was swimming, my vision wavering and my words didn’t sound the same as they did in my head. I clutched at another alcopop, sipping it whilst watching Felix down his sixth bottle of neat vodka – he wasn’t even tipsy. Stupid vampire tolerance to alcohol.

I leaned against the back of one of the sofas that had been pushed against the wall, swaying to some music I knew but couldn’t name. I watched as Lyla flirted outrageously with Fabian, her usual vodka and blood substituted for the straight stuff. Fabian kept flashing me looks and something seemed to click in my brain, but it didn’t register. I shook it off, refusing to think.

Kaspar sauntered over, but in my not-quite-with-it state, I didn’t give a damn. The clock struck one and he reached me, resting up against the sofa.

‘Hey babe,’ he slurred. ‘You’re not wearing very much, are you?’

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. ‘Eww, how much have you had to drink?’

He immediately sobered up and smirked. ‘Not enough.’

I inwardly groaned as I realized he was nowhere near as drunk as he was feigning.

‘Why are you doing all this?’ I asked, gesturing with my bottle towards the other side of the room where the pile of alcohol was growing as more people arrived. ‘My’ party seemed to be in full swing now – vampires I didn’t recognize were dancing at the far end of the room where a large space had been cleared; the lights had long been switched off and the music turned up. Girls and guys openly groped, kissed and grabbed, regardless of gender and watching them, I felt my heartbeat quicken.

‘You only turn 18 once,’ Kaspar said, shrugging and taking another mouthful from the litre bottle of vodka he was holding. I didn’t even want to know how many of those he had already emptied. ‘And besides, it’s an excuse to drink.’

‘And there was me thinking you did it out of the kindness of your heart.’

‘Do I look like a saint?’

I chuckled. ‘No, not really.’ There was an awkward silence for a few minutes, which I filled by sipping more of my drink and watching as Felix tugged at the skin on a girl’s neck with his fangs. Pressed up behind him, a guy, his features strikingly caught between male and female, groped at the chest and crotch of the fiery-haired man. I felt intrusive for looking, yet it was so alluring as his face split into a smile and he took their hands, leading them from the room. I felt my cheek burn and glanced to my right to see Kaspar’s gaze darting between the door and my face, a smirk playing on his lips. I stared at the floor, waiting for him to make a snide remark, but none came.

I tried perching on the back of the sofa but slid right back off again, struggling with the concept of balancing. ‘You know, next time you don’t have to use cold water to wake me up,’ I complained.

‘Oh, that was just a last minute idea of mine,’ he shrugged, taking another swig of the vodka. ‘We were going to shout boo, but you were snoring so loud you wouldn’t have heard.’

I went bright red and crossed my arms across my chest. ‘I don’t snore.’

‘Do.’

‘Don’t!’ I punched him on the arm, annoyed. He did the same back, but I wasn’t expecting it and the bottle I was holding fell to the floor, shattering. It splashed everywhere, drenching me. ‘Idiot! Now look at what you made me do!’ I exclaimed, gesturing at my tank top that was now dripping wet. I side-stepped out of the way of the glass, conscious of the fact I was bare foot. ‘Why is it that when I am around you, I always seem to get really wet?’

He laughed, side-stepping the glass too and pressing me up against the back of the sofa. ‘I generally have that effect on girls,’ he growled into my ear, clearly amused. For the second time that night, I groaned in embarrassment. ‘No need to be ashamed, Girly. It’s all natural,’ he added, stroking my flushed cheeks and then wrapping his arms around my neck.

‘Get off me, you manslut.’ I pushed him away and he stepped back, chortling.

‘Manslut? Seriously? That’s not really a comeback.’

But this is, I thought, raising my hand to slap him. He caught my wrist – of course – before I got anywhere near his cheek.

‘Whoa! Ease off. Don’t want to get on my bad side now, do you?’ he said, winking. I felt a sharp pain in my mind and knew he was trying to invade my thoughts. I threw up walls around my mind, not sober enough to really hide anything beyond the padlocked box I had stashed the knowledge about my father in. He shrugged and stopped trying, taking a long swig of vodka until the bottle was empty. Without saying anything, he left, dumping the bottle and returning with a new one. I eyed it, amazed at how much he could drink and not even seem tipsy. He caught me watching and stepped around the shattered glass on the floor.

‘Dare you,’ he said, holding the bottle out to me. I stared at it, hesitant. My rational self said no. It was neat vodka. The other part of me said beat Kaspar.

‘Whatever,’ I replied, sounding more confident than I really was. Snatching the bottle from his hands, I tipped it up and gulped several mouthfuls down. It burned my throat and I shuddered, feeling it strip away all the moisture in my mouth. I took another mouthful and another, trying to quench my growing thirst, but it didn’t work and as stars appeared in front of my eyes, I thrust it back into his chest, feeling the room spin. The music faded away, the voices becoming louder, confusing, overwhelming and I grabbed onto something solid in front of me, steadying myself. After a minute, the dizziness passed and I stood up straight.

‘See?’ I smirked at Kaspar, who I realized I was gripping the shoulders of. I let go, but then decided it was a bad idea as my legs threatened to give way. I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to steady myself, not even thinking about what I was doing. I felt breath on my hair and a voice whispered something in my ear that sounded like, ‘Want to dance?’

I nodded eagerly and felt a hand take mine, leading me towards the far end of the room. Something pulled me around and in a blur I was pressed up against someone, hips swaying to the beat, hands on a hard chest. I forced my eyes to re-focus and recognized that the hard chest belonged to Kaspar. I frowned and froze, a little rational thought breaking through the haze. What am I doing?

‘Relax, Girly,’ a voice purred in my ear.

Before I knew it, I had spun around, my back to his chest. A pulsating beat filled the room, pounding against my ribs and sending my heart into my mouth. It was slow; too slow almost. Hands rested themselves on my waist, following my movement as my body instinctively followed the beat. My head rested in the curve of his neck and I could smell the same musky, expensive cologne that his room and half the corridor always smelled of. He was wearing too much; it tickled my dry throat, yet it was alluring. Maybe that was the drink. Yes, it’s the drink. I could feel how warm my skin was compared to his and louder than the music, louder than the voices, louder than anything was the sound of his breath in my ear, like a rush of wind amongst the trees.

He wrapped an arm around my stomach, pulling me closer. His other hand reached down and hooked itself under my arm, sweeping it up until it circled his neck. The other followed as his arms trailed after mine, starting at my neck, sending shivers down my spine. They ran over my shoulders, lingering around my breasts – were people watching? – over my hips, stopping at my thighs. I barely noticed as they slowly worked around to my inner thigh; I hardly cared. My breath came out in short rasps and I could have sworn his breath wasn’t as icy as usual.

‘What do you say we–’

His low voice was interrupted, his hands abruptly leaving my legs. They settled themselves around my waist, spinning me around with him. I giggled and squinted, recognizing Fabian in front of us. He looks angry, I registered. Even in the gloom and through my alcohol-tinted gaze I could see his eyes were black followed by a vivid green.

‘I think you have had your fun, Kaspar,’ he growled. Kaspar stood perfectly still, eyes cold. He didn’t loosen his grip on me. Fabian narrowed his eyes and they paused at black. ‘A word if you will,’ he continued, addressing Kaspar. He grabbed my hand and I toppled into his arms as he pulled me back towards the sofas and away from the music just as the song changed.

‘I love this song,’ I moaned, tugging on Fabian’s hand. He ignored me, as did Kaspar, who walked silently behind us. We stopped and spotting a sofa, I slumped down against the back; any clear thoughts that remained were fast leaving now and I just wanted to close my eyes, which I did, just listening instead.

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ Fabian spat, his voice venomous. ‘What would have happened if you had lost it? If the King knew, he would kill you.’

‘But he doesn’t know,’ Kaspar replied. His voice seemed distant. ‘Christ, I was just having a bit of fun. It’s not as though she minded.’

‘Of course she didn’t mind. She’s drunk! And it was you who got her that drunk. I saw you. When will you get that you can’t treat every girl you come across like this? Especially her,’ Fabian bellowed. ‘Alcohol can kill humans, you know that right?’ His words echoed around my mind, but I didn’t really hear them. My head felt like lead and I slumped even further, only just managing to stay upright.

‘I can treat girls anyway I like, I’m the Prince. And yes, I did get her drunk. So what? It’s not as though she’s dead, is it?’ I cracked open an eye at that and saw him gesturing towards me without really checking to see whether I was all right, which I wasn’t: the room was spinning and I felt sick.

‘Guys, I don’t feel so good,’ I groaned, as my vision funnelled. Before I knew it, I was tumbling over the back of the chair, landing with a thump on the soft cushions. Two faces loomed above me, one concerned, the other amused.

‘Kaspar, how much did she drink?!’ I heard Fabian roar before I passed out.

NINETEEN
Violet

Birds chirped outside and I could feel the warm sun filtering through the huge windows. It was peaceful and the perfect remedy to my pounding head. Why did I drink so much? More pressing than my headache though was the thought of what I had done with Kaspar the night before. I cringed, regretting every moment of it.

I opened my eyes. The sight that greeted me was not a pretty one. Littered about were empty bottles, shards of glass coating the once sparkling floor. Most of the uninvited ‘guests’ had left, or at least were not in the room, but a girl and a boy lay in the chairs opposite, draped across Felix. They weren’t asleep, but unnervingly still. Cain and Charlie were nowhere to be seen and I didn’t want to know what they had been up to.

Lyla was lying on the same L-shaped sofa as I was, her head resting on Fabian’s leg, as he sat slumped against the arm of the chair. Shocked, I realized my head also lay in Fabian’s lap.

But what really unnerved me was the fact one person was unaccounted for. I raised my head and looked towards my feet. Something cold was pressing into my bare leg and I was pretty sure I knew what it was. Lying beside my hips, legs draped over mine, was Kaspar. He blocked my escape off the sofa and I shifted a little, hoping he would move. But he didn’t budge, so I kicked him hard in the stomach.

‘What the hell was that for?’ Kaspar groaned from beside my legs, eyes opening, revealing their emerald, not quite as glassy as usual. ‘I do have a fucking headache you know.’

‘Just get off me, okay?’

‘I’m good here,’ he shrugged, not moving. He was saved from another kick when Cain entered, making a beeline for us.

‘Man, you guys reek of alcohol.’

‘So do you,’ Kaspar snapped, standing up this time and adjusting his shirt. ‘What about father?’

‘Out hunting.’

‘Well that’s something,’ he sighed and I only just moved my legs in time as he flopped back down on the sofa. I swivelled around, sitting up and dropped my head against the plush white velvet, wishing the continuous pounding in my head would go away.

‘So what do vampires do to get rid of hangovers?’ I asked, massaging my temples, the bright sunlight hurting my sensitive eyes. ‘Because I have one.’

‘We drink coffee. Does anyone want one?’ a stern voice asked.

‘I’d love one, thanks,’ Fabian chirped, piping up. But his smile faded as he turned. Kaspar’s head whipped around, before he very quickly stood up, nervously running a hand through his hair. The others stood up too and the two vampires I didn’t know made a hasty departure from the room.

‘Arabella, how, err … nice to see you,’ Kaspar stuttered, still running a hand through his hair. I turned around. Stood beside the door was a very cross-looking Arabella, hands on hips, flashing us the most livid expression possible. Noticing that my top had slipped down over my bra a little, I pulled it up, averting my gaze as a scowl came my way.

‘Yeah … about this … we can explain,’ Fabian faltered.

‘It was all Violet’s fault,’ Kaspar blurted, pointing in my direction.

***

‘Stupid, stupid, arrogant vampires,’ I muttered darkly under my breath as I swept tiny shards of glass into the dustpan and brush I was using. I crawled across the floor, picking up every last piece of bottle known to man. Kaspar was doing the same over the other side, a frown creasing his normally faultless brow as he too cursed under his breath. My only consolation was that I knew the spoilt brats were being made to clean instead of the servants, though Fabian had slipped away after chucking a few empty bottles into a black bin liner. Nobody had questioned his disappearance, or even seemed to notice it.

‘That should do it,’ Lyla announced, as she placed her weight on the broomstick she was using. ‘Father won’t notice the odd little patch.’

‘You missed a spot,’ a low voice rasped. I stood up, just in time to see the King flitting into the room, a black travelling cloak wrapped around his shoulders. He stopped, facing us all, anger twisting his face. Fabian appeared behind him.

If colour could tint the King’s pale skin, then he would most definitely be purple. He opened his mouth and pure venom seemed to pour out.

‘I leave you for one night. Just one night. As responsible adults, that should not be a problem. Yet I return to find that yet again, you have engaged in behaviour not fitting to your status, humiliated me, and made a complete mess.’

‘We tidied up!’ Kaspar protested, glaring at Fabian who wore a smug smile.

The King silenced him with a raise of his hand. ‘Enough. You have some explaining to do.’

Kaspar gawped. ‘Me?’

‘Yes, you. Violet too. My study, now.’

***

I trailed behind the King, throwing filthy looks at Kaspar. His face was blank, apart from the occasional grimace and I was sure he and his father were having an angered conversation in their heads. I could even detect some fear in his manner, all usual signs of arrogance gone. His fear only added to mine. I knew the King was not one to cross.

My bare feet slapped on the stone flag floor, as we weaved our way through unrecognizable corridors. Torches were hung high in brackets, their burning fuel the only source of heat in this part of the mansion that I never wished to visit again.

After a few minutes, the air began to warm a little and more light flooded in. We passed through a wooden door back into the main corridor, heading towards the double set of doors halfway down, which were opened by a manservant. The King made an abrupt turn and entered. We hurried after him and, in an instant, he was stood behind a great desk, a floor-to-ceiling window framing his figure as a silhouette against the bright light, which bounced off shelf after shelf of books.

Here, it was clear he was King – the one creature who wielded such awesome force over a species far superior to our own, who exercised such restraint; such compassion upon every other being ever known to live. He could end us, if he wanted; a wave of his hand and humanity would be mincemeat. Yet here he was, about to lecture his ‘teenage’ son, along with me.

‘Sit,’ he ordered. I followed Kaspar forward to where three wooden chairs were placed in front of the desk. As I sat down, the legs scraped against the floor.

The King closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to calm himself. ‘I am told by Kaspar, Miss Lee, that it is your eighteenth birthday today.’

I nodded. And what a great one it is turning out to be.

‘Then many happy returns.’

I hesitated. ‘Thanks.’

‘But what you two did last night was unacceptable and dangerous for you, Miss Lee. I am not angry at you for it, as my son has already confessed to supplying you with drink with corrupt motive. Under the influence of alcohol, your actions are forgivable. But let me stress this to you: do not do it again, for I may not be so merciful on another day.’

I nodded, surprised at his calm demeanour. But he didn’t need to worry – I would definitely not do that again. But something else bothered me. Kaspar owned up.

‘As for you, Kaspar, I tell you time and time again that your behaviour is unacceptable; that you jeopardize the Kingdom with your womanizing ways. But you never seem to listen. I understand that you are of the age when you feel the need to... experiment... find your own legs, as one might say, and that is quite alright, but only behind closed doors and not under any circumstances with Miss Lee.’

I blushed bright tomato red. Kaspar didn’t react.

The King went to sit down, but changed his mind. Instead, he leaned on the desk, and sighed. ‘Sometimes, I wonder Kaspar, if you would have been different if your mother were still alive.’

Immediately, I went rigid. I had never heard the King mention the Queen before. I glanced at Kaspar. He sat deathly still beside me, his eyes a stormy grey.

‘Perhaps she would have been able to talk sense into you, as I cannot. Or perhaps you would not have to despise this power you possess … perhaps you would not be heir,’ he seemed to mutter to himself. He turned away and walked towards the window, his head hung low. As he turned, I caught sight of his eyes and suppressed a gasp. There was no colour in them. They were an empty white. It was repulsive to look at, but too compelling not to look. I glanced at Kaspar. Still, he did not move.

The King turned back to the window and I shifted uncomfortably, feeling as though I was an intruder on a conversation I was not meant to hear.

‘You are not to do anything of this kind again to Miss Lee, do you understand, Kaspar?’ the King demanded rather than asked, his harsh, authoritative voice returning.

‘And if I do?’ Kaspar challenged.

‘When one plays with fire, one gets burned.’

I frowned, looking from one man to the other. I’m not a fire of any kind and I can’t ‘burn’ them, so what does he mean? But Kaspar seemed to understand and he got up, storming towards the door when the King spoke again.

‘You may go.’

I shot up and scrambled after Kaspar, passing him in the doorway as he hung back.

‘Why do you have to lecture all the time? Mother never did,’ he spat at his father in a bitter tone, sweeping passed me without a second glance. I hurried after him. He was already halfway down the corridor when I called after him.

‘Kaspar, wait up!’ He stopped, turning slowly. I jogged to catch up and looked up at his eyes. Their usual emerald green was tainted with grey and each watched me coldly. ‘What did your father mean about the fire?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Yes, you do know. Why else would you leave like that?’

He closed his eyes and forced a breath through his gritted teeth. ‘Look, Girly. Maybe I do know. But either way, I’m not going to tell you.’ He marched away but I caught up with him again and touched his arm.

‘What?’

I paused, uncertain. ‘You owned up.’

‘Yes, I did,’ he grunted, pushing my hand away and turning on his heel.

‘But why?’ I questioned, talking to the back of his head. He didn’t answer and when he disappeared around the corner, I slouched against the wall, defeated. Why were vampires so bewildering?

The fire flickered lazily in the hearth, the warmth burning my legs. The long red-and-black drapes were pulled across the windows and whistling could be heard outside as a faint chime on the wind. The moon was at half, dully lighting the pond at the edge of the grounds.

I walked away from the window where I had been peeking through the curtains, watching as yet more clouds rolled in. I had never known an August like it, weather-wise. Storm after storm seemed to persist in ruining the summer and any thoughts of hot days had been given up long ago. Not that the vampires minded. I collapsed into the squashy armchair by the fire, the only person in the room to realize just how much heat it was throwing out.

I listened as Cain, Charlie, Felix and Declan played poker in the corner, occasional exclamations of ‘Cheat!’ breaking through the quiet. Lyla lay with her phone on the sofa, her fingers darting over the screen, smiling to herself. Kaspar sat in the darkest corner, aimlessly plucking strings on his guitar and averting his gaze whenever his name was called.

I looked back to the fire, seeking solace from the tongues lapping at the grate. Mesmerized, I gazed at it for a minute before I sensed someone watching me. Fabian, sat in the chair opposite me, stared at me through curious eyes, as though he was trying to decipher something.

‘You haven’t had a very good birthday, have you?’ he asked, keeping his voice low.

‘How do you know that?’ My mind was guarded, wasn’t it?

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘Looked you up online.’

I slumped back into the chair, which moulded to my back. ‘As you ask, no, I haven’t.’

The grin remained. ‘I think I might know what will cheer you up.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s not dinner, is it?’

He chuckled. ‘No, nothing like that. There’s a royal ball coming up in a couple of weeks’ time. Humans can go if they are invited,’ he gushed. I narrowed my eyes, having a sneaking suspicion of where this was going. ‘It’s good fun and there is dancing and all sorts of music and it will cheer you up; maybe you’ll even see a different side to us and the Kingdom. Anyway, I was wondering if you would maybe like to go? Possibly?’ he finished.

I raised an eyebrow again. ‘Do you mean go with you?’ I asked.

‘Well … yeah.’

I grimaced. ‘Well, I have a very busy schedule of avoiding being sucked dry, so I will have to check my diary. But I can pencil it in, if you like?’

A huge beam spread from ear to ear on his face and he laughed, getting to his feet, pulling me onto mine too. The four boys had stopped playing poker to watch and Lyla peered over her phone, her lips parted a little in surprise. Even Kaspar looked out from his dark corner, studying me with his piercing gaze.

‘I would like that … I would like …’ He swept down into a bow and took my hand, planting a kiss on my knuckles. My eyes widened in embarrassment. ‘I would like you, Miss Violet Lee, to do I, Lord Fabian Marl Ariani, Earl of Ariani, the honour of accompanying me to the ball? Glass slippers and all?’

There was a pause as I digested his overkill. ‘If I must,’ I replied, rolling my eyes. His smile became wider and he jumped up. I glanced over at the others, who were all smiling, save for Kaspar and Lyla, whose faces were totally blank.

My heart fluttered for a moment, both in fear, disbelief and a little in excitement. ‘There is only one slight problem,’ I said.

‘What’s that?’ Fabian asked.

‘I don’t know how to dance.’

Fabian smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief once more. ‘Oh, we can fix that.’

TWENTY
Violet

‘What do you mean you’re going to give me dance lessons?’ I screeched, head whipping around from one vampire to another.

‘It means exactly that. Dance lessons. Would you like me to spell it out for you?’ Kaspar leered.

‘I am perfectly capable of spelling it, thank you very much. I am sure I am far more intelligent than you anyway,’ I replied.

‘Sure thing, Girly,’ he retorted, laughter curling his lips into a lopsided smile. ‘I have years on you. Now come on, I don’t have all day.’ He grabbed me by the elbow and marched down the corridor. I glanced over my shoulder, looking for some pity from Fabian and Declan, but both just shrugged and followed.

‘You are a total jerk, you know that, don’t you?’ I told Kaspar, not bothering to hide the disdain from my voice.

‘Yes. But you will thank me one day,’ he replied, his characteristic smirk forming on his blood red lips.

We arrived outside the music room and stepping inside I saw Sky, Jag and Lyla stood beside a jet-black grand piano, placed at the edge of a square of varnished floor.

‘Here, put these on,’ Lyla said, throwing a pair of super-high, shocking-red heels at me and, fearing impalement from the stilettos, I let them fall to the ground. I glanced at them and then back at my flat shoes. I caught Lyla’s glare, however, and decided it would be best to do as she said. I slipped them on, the thin straps digging into my skin. Straightening up, I glanced at the ground, noting that it was a lot further down than usual.

Sky sat at the piano and Fabian grabbed my hand, pulling me onto the dance floor. I teetered on the spot, grabbing him for balance. I blushed wildly and an apologetic look formed on my face.

‘Violet, have you done any dancing before, other than this grounding?’ Sky called from the piano, where he sat playing scales up and down the piano, not paying the slightest bit of attention to his hands but never missing a note.

‘Grinding,’ Kaspar, Fabian and I corrected in unison.

‘Well, whatever it is called, it is merely a filthy excuse to procreate in public. Young people these days … He trailed off, his voice full of disgust. A stifled snigger escaped my mouth and I saw Fabian’s lips twitch. ‘I will take that as a no, you have not danced before. Well, Violet, listen carefully. I am an impatient teacher. I will not wait for you to fall over.’ I sobered up, smile wiped from my face. ‘We will start with the box step for a waltz. Now, stop slouching and imagine there is a box on the floor. You are starting at the bottom left-hand corner. On beat one, step forward to the top left-hand corner … yes, like that,’ he said as I took a step forward. ‘On beat two, step to the top right corner with your right foot and on beat three the left foot follows.’ I did as he instructed. ‘And yes, bring them together! Good! Now, step back with your right foot and take your left foot back to your original position, the right foot following, and thus, you have completed your box. Good, now, try again …’

Over and over I did this, Sky barking orders as the others watched from the sidelines, occasionally correcting a step. After a while, he told me to start rising and falling and whirling, which left my feet in a tangle but once ‘Box, remember the box!’ had been shouted at me a few times, they seemed to find their way and I was sweeping across the floor without any trouble.

He stopped all of a sudden. ‘I think you are ready to try it with a partner, don’t you? Fabian, if you will.’

I froze. This was the bit I was scared about. Fabian stepped forward, taking my right hand in his left. He placed my other hand just below his shoulder and his hand snaked around my waist, resting just above my hip. I tensed up as soon as he touched me, afraid of the contact.

‘Relax,’ he mouthed, eyes full of warmth. As he breathed, I felt his cold breath stirring my hair and I was aware that we were close, very close – so close that I blushed again.

‘Now just do what you were practising before, but allow Fabian to guide you,’ Sky called, turning back to the piano. The music began to play and we were frozen for a moment, before I felt Fabian gently push me back a step, his feet following mine as he guided me around the room.

‘I don’t know what you were worrying about,’ Fabian said, smiling. ‘You look like you were taught in the nursery, just like the rest of us.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re just saying that.’

‘Really, I’m not,’ he retorted, beaming.

‘I think we can leave the waltz for now, but there are many more dances for you to learn. Are you familiar with the dances of the late eighteenth century?’ Sky asked. We came to an abrupt halt and I wobbled on the spot, relying on Fabian’s steady hand to keep me upright. I looked at Sky, dumbfounded and mute. There was a wistful sigh from the corner.

‘Ah, the minuet. My forte,’ Jag said, coming forward.

Three hours later and I knew more dances than I had eaten hot dinners in my life, from so many eras of time that I felt like I was getting more of a history lesson than a dance lesson.

‘Remember, this one is called the Sauteuse. Now we must move on to etiquette,’ Sky said as I broke hold, relieved at the prospect of a rest: the joints in my elbows had rusted into place, leaving them stiff and sore.

‘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.‘Why?’ I asked, trying to keep the gloom from my voice.

Sky threw back his head and laughed. ‘Why? Miss Lee, they told me you were intelligent.’ I blushed. ‘For safety, of course. There are upwards of …’ He glanced at Jag, who nodded, and I realized they must have entered one another’s minds. ‘Upwards of a thousand vampires in attendance at this ball. It is paramount that any human, including you, are not alone, not even for a moment. So do not wander far from our presence.’

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? Could I last months? I had promised my father I would, but it was already September and my resolve wasn’t as concrete as it had been.

I hit a few random notes on the piano, not really intending to play anything. But the isolation of the room began to play tricks on my mind, and I needed that comforting sound that would muffle the creaking of the floorboards and mute the raging wind that was battering the windows.

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