I nodded and scrawled a note out on a slip of paper I had found on the mantle – ‘Always use protection, sucker!’
I placed it into the one remaining empty condom box and slipped it back into the drawer of his bedside cabinet, before darting back into my room to wait.
It was near midnight when I heard the first giggles and, peeking out from my door, I could see it was the same leggy blonde who had been over a few times. Charity, I think she was called – she was anything but.
About fifteen minutes slipped by before I heard movement and frustrated exclamations followed by a roar as my door was flung open. Kaspar stormed into my room and glared, his eyes a bottomless black.
‘Recognize this?’ he said between heavy breaths, holding the condom box up, the note scrunched in his hand. I shook my head, trying to focus on that action rather than his eyes, or worse, on Annie, in case he tried to get in my head and read my thoughts.
Charity came in behind him, dishevelled as though she had dressed in a hurry. Her bleached hair stuck out at odd angles and her bright pink lipstick was smudged across the corners of her lips. She glared at me through narrowed eyes. ‘What the heck is your problem?’ she whined, like a child who had lost her favourite toy.
‘No problems. Why, do you have one?’ I pulled my most innocent smile, aware that Kaspar looked a little more than angry.
In a blur he had launched himself across the room. He collided with my side to take me with him and I was sent rolling across the bed, coming to a halt when my head hit the bedside cabinet. I let out a scream as he landed on top of me, pinning me to the bed. I winced through gritted teeth as the corner of the cabinet dug into my spine.
‘Get off me, you horny git!’ I screeched, kicking and flailing, revolted at his closeness.
‘Why, am I making you uncomfortable? Maybe I will use you instead!’ he snarled, a tormenting smirk twisting his face. His eyes were devoid of any emotion – he meant it. Straddling me with one leg either side of my stomach, he forced me deeper into the mattress, pinning my hands above my head. He began to pull my shirt up and I heard squeals of protest from Charity, which merged with the protests of the mattress as I tried to fight free.
But then he was gone. I raised my head a little to see Fabian and Charlie wrestling him away, gaining quite a few scratches. With the tiniest sigh of relief, I scrabbled back up and pulled my shirt down back over my stomach, blushing and full of more anger than ever.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Fabian bellowed. He looked Kaspar and Charity in the eye, as though daring them to lie. ‘Are you all right?’ he added, glancing in my direction. I nodded, wrapping my arms around my middle without thinking.
‘Never mind if she’s all right, she stole Kaspar’s condoms!’ Charity accused, pointing at me.
At that moment, Lyla entered, laughing. ‘Tragic,’ she muttered, but everyone heard. Kaspar shot her a furious look and shook himself free of Charlie’s grasp.
‘Is that true, Violet?’ Fabian asked, assuming the role of the diplomat. My expression of guilt must have answered his question, because he continued. ‘Where are they?’
I shook my head, refusing to answer. A second later, several very powerful, very intrusive minds entered mine and my thoughts became displaced and chaotic. I fought to hide everything, but somehow, the details of my plan slipped through. I could do nothing but hope they hadn’t realized a maid had helped.
‘Kitchen,’ Fabian grunted and Kaspar raced out, followed by Charity. I didn’t plan to follow, but Fabian’s look of indignation corrected that.
‘You idiot,’ he scolded. ‘Why couldn’t you just keep your head down? You’re going to make your life here hell.’
I pushed past him as he held the door open for me. ‘I don’t want a life here,’ I muttered. Not waiting to see if he replied, I headed down the stairs and towards the kitchen. But maybe he’s right. Maybe I have gone too far.
When I got to the kitchen, they were pulling the bottle from the back of the fridge. Fabian tipped it upside down over the sink and a few drops of blood dribbled out. The condoms collected around the neck, ruined.
Charity turned to me, her expression moving from stunned to disappointed to murderous and it was at that point that I knew I was in for it. I turned to run, but she was already flying towards me, razor-sharp pink-acrylic nails bared. Grabbing my shirt she yanked me back and swiped at my face. I felt her nails gouge my skin and howled as she went to take another shot, but came to my senses long enough to throw my full body weight at her. It didn’t do much, but it was enough for Charlie and Lyla to grab her.
‘You’re just a fat jealous cow,’ she spat, wiping her eyes and smudging her make-up so she had a grey ring around each eye.
‘Excuse me?’ I hissed.
‘I said, you’re a fat jealous cow!’
‘I heard what you said,’ I jeered back.
She shrugged free from Lyla’s grip and straightened her skirt, which had ridden up. ‘Whatever. Just keep out of other people’s business, will you? Come on, Kaspar.’
‘Wow. I didn’t know they made bitches and whores rolled into one,’ I muttered as she was just about to pass through the door, Kaspar following like an obedient dog. She froze.
‘Take that back,’ she snarled, her eyes moving from blue to black.
‘No,’ I said coolly and she let out a cry, lunging for me with her eyes transfixed on my neck. I yelled, trying to throw her off. She scratched me once more, but, before she could do any more, we were being yanked apart – Fabian’s strong arms were wrapped around my stomach, as Kaspar pulled Charity away. She wasn’t struggling, but she threw insult after insult at me, which I ignored until she struck where it hurt.
‘You should have killed her while you had the chance, Kaspar. I know what these human girls are like. They’ll come on to anything with legs.’
I surged forward, but Fabian held me firm. ‘Don’t worry; I wouldn’t touch your kind with a bargepole.’
‘Yeah, right,’ she replied, squirming into Kaspar’s arms, stroking the side of his face. Kaspar didn’t respond with the same affection, but pulled her closer, in a mechanical fashion. She didn’t seem to notice. ‘Come on, baby, let’s go hunt for humans; I’m sick of animal blood.’ She eyed me as she said it, knowing what effect it would have.
‘You’re sick.’ My voice was becoming hoarse. ‘Sick parasites.’
Charity didn’t notice. She was staring at the door as the King entered. With downturned faces, the vampires bowed and curtsied. Fabian stood straight with difficulty, his arms still clenched around me.
I did nothing, turning away. Why should I curtsey?
He turned to Charity first, who extracted herself from Kaspar’s grasp and hung her head, managing to throw me a scathing look every few seconds.
‘I will remind you, Miss Faunder, that your father’s position in the council and court is subject to the actions of both himself and his family.’ His deep voice did not waver with anger, but contained a clear menace. ‘Go,’ he instructed, and she disappeared, not waiting to be told twice.
Then he turned to me and I shrunk, pierced by his grey eyes, so cold they sent a shiver running down my spine. Fabian loosened his grip, realizing I was not going to try anything now. ‘You play a dangerous game, Miss Lee. You will end up injured, or worse, if you are not wary of your actions.’
‘Better dead than one of you,’ I shot back, going to leave, but Fabian caught my arm. It seemed as though the King wasn’t finished.
‘Your sentiments will change when you have grown accustomed to our ways, which will happen in time. And time you shall have, Miss Lee, for your father is not foolish. He knows of our power and will not attempt to free you for a considerable length of time, at which point it will be too late.’
My eyes widened. Does he mean what I think he means? ‘My father doesn’t know about vampires.’
Behind the King, Kaspar laughed. It was a cold, hollow laugh, full of mocking. ‘Your father is in charge of the defence of this country, Girly. Of course he knows about us. He knows it was us who killed the slayers in Trafalgar Square and he knows it is us who have you.’
The King raised a hand and Kaspar quietened. As he did, his shirt sleeve slipped down, revealing arms scattered with raised, mottled veins.
‘No charge will be brought against us, Miss Lee. The case will be quietly closed by the Metropolitan Police once the media interest has died down. The idea that your disappearance is linked to you witnessing the killings will be fastidiously denied by your father, as instructed by my ambassadors, and if your father tries anything rash, such as to reveal our existence to the greater population, you will suffer. Unless you turn to become a vampire, you will remain here so you cannot reveal our existence. If you become a vampire and then reveal our existence to humans, you will suffer as we do.’
My mouth opened and my heart dropped through the pit of my stomach. They have everything covered, I realized. ‘You can’t do that. How can you do that?’
‘We are above the law and as I’m sure you can tell, Miss Lee, your situation is rather dire,’ the King said, turning to Kaspar. ‘Miss Faunder is welcome to stay as long as she likes. Whilst she is here, however, Miss Lee is to be confined to her room.’
I started to protest but the King ignored me and left the room, leaving a smirking Kaspar behind to gloat.
‘Is revenge sweet, Girly?’
I scowled at him, and laughing, he left the room. Fabian looked down at me, sympathy shining in his eyes as he led me back to my room.
That night, the groans from the room next door were even louder.
ELEVEN
Violet
It was the morning of August 7th when Fabian came in. One week and the hope I had of getting out had faded. On the bright side, Charity the whore had left.
‘There is something on the news about your family. Do you want to come and see it?’ he asked after explaining I could leave my room again. I followed him, a small spark of hope reigniting as we entered the living room and I saw my photo – a school photo, of all things – plastered across the screen. Above it was the word ‘missing’. The others were gathered around the sofas, watching the screen as the news theme blared and images of various stories flashed up.
The music finished, and the female news anchor on the left looked up from her laptop. ‘Violet Lee, daughter of the Secretary of State for Defence, Michael Lee, was today officially reported as missing.’ My face popped up once again. ‘Miss Lee was last seen on July 31st at around 1 a.m., in the area around Trafalgar Square. Fears have arisen that she may have witnessed the murder of thirty men, dubbed London’s Bloodbath, and been abducted by the murderers. This claim has not been verified by the Metropolitan Police, who are widening their search to include the Greater London area.’
The screen switched to footage of several police officers with sniffer dogs, searching the outskirts of London. My hands gripped the back of the sofa as my knees ceased to feel so solid.
‘It has been confirmed that a high-heeled shoe found at the scene of the murder belongs to Miss Lee, although police have dismissed the idea of her being a suspect.’ A picture of my shoe in a clear plastic bag appeared behind the male anchor’s head. ‘Questions have been raised as to why Miss Lee’s disappearance was not reported earlier, and today the Secretary of State gave in to public pressure and made a statement.’
My father appeared, clutching my mother’s hand. They were sitting behind a table, a rabble of journalists snapping pictures and holding dictaphones. A large picture of me as well as the hotline to call with information scrolled along behind them on a blue screen. I choked a little as I saw them, especially as I saw tears roll down my mother’s cheeks. My father’s expression was calm; controlled.
‘We are working with the police to try and find our daughter, and we would like to thank them for their support,’ he said, speaking without wavering, into a microphone.
A journalist stood up, calling over the buzz. ‘Do you think this may be linked to anti-war protestors, who oppose your decision to send more troops to the Middle East?’
My father shook his head. ‘I refuse to comment on policy. This is not the time or place. We just want our daughter back. We miss her.’ At this point, my mother broke down into sobs; through them, I could hear her begging for me to come home.
My eyes stung as my own tears formed. I wanted to reach out and touch her. I wanted to comfort her; to tell her I was okay, even though I wasn’t; even though I wouldn’t come out of this human. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I was frozen to the spot, wanting to stop watching, but unable to tear my eyes from the screen. Fabian placed a hand on the small of my back. I pushed him off.
‘Since Michael Lee ascended to the position of shadow defence minister and then took up the role with his party’s election three years ago, the family has suffered unparalleled grief. Four years ago, at the age of just seventeen, the Lee’s eldest child, Greg Lee, died after taking a he**in overdose. In October of last year, Lillian Lee was diagnosed with leukaemia and is currently undergoing treatment.’ The reporter finished and I felt the blood drain from my head. Air stopped reaching my lungs as I forgot to breathe.
‘We now have a message from Lillian.’
Lily – my beautiful sister, Lily – came up on the screen. She was lying in a hospital bed, all sorts of wires attached to her wrists. She was paler than the parasites beside me, her arms seeming to have a faint green tinge. Her eyes were sunken and bloodshot and she looked thin and frail, save for her cheeks, which were swollen from the steroids. She was bald, but it didn’t matter. She was my beautiful little sister, cancer or not. She looked so ill, but I knew that was from the treatment.