The Dark Heroine: Dinner with a Vampire. Abigail Gibbs

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ