Abigail Gibbs - Dinner with a Vampire

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.’

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.