Abigail Gibbs - The Dark Heroine - Dinner with a Vampire

‘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.