Dinner With a Vampire (The Dark Heroine #1)(12)
Author: Abigail Gibbs

‘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.