Dinner with a Vampire. Abigail Gibbs

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      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, СКАЧАТЬ