Dinner with a Vampire. Abigail Gibbs

      SIXTEEN

       Violet

      I walked into the dining room, Ilta leading me, Fabian just behind. Candles flickered in their holders on the walls, bathing the room in a soft light. Red drapes were closed over the windows, and in the centre of the room was an extremely long table, covered with a deep red tablecloth and laid with elaborate cutlery – and just a single plate of the china must have cost the earth.

      Ilta led me to the middle of the table, where he pulled out my chair for me. I sat down and in a blink he was opposite me, pulling his own chair out. Other vampires filed in after us, taking their seats. Sat next door to me on the left was the American and to my right was Fabian.

      After a few minutes everyone was seated and a dull chatter filled the room. I turned to Fabian. ‘Why am I here?’ I whispered, trying to keep my voice as low as possible.

      ‘Well, as the council are discussing what to do with you in the morning, they wanted to actually meet you.’

      ‘Why are they discussing me?’ I answered in alarm.

      ‘There have been … developments.’ He twiddled with one of the many knives and, catching my ever-so-slightly horrified expression in the gleaming blade, he placed it down. ‘Oh, don’t look so worried. You won’t be shot of my wonderful company that easily.’

      I wasn’t worried about that. I was worried about the ‘developments’.

      ‘What sort of developments?’

      ‘It’s worth more than my inheritance to tell you that. Anyway—’ He glanced towards the door before hooking an arm under my elbow and hoisting me up onto my feet. ‘The show is on the road.’

      The door opened and the King entered. Everybody hushed, shifting as they stood, waiting as the chair at the far end of the table was pulled away a fraction and then pushed back in once the King had sat down; only once he was seated did the other thirty guests – including the Varn children – sit down.

      I leaned forward, absorbing his presence, noticing that both he and Kaspar wore the same suit, embroidered with the coat of arms. The only real difference between father and son was the arrogant smile that Kaspar wore as he winked at Charity, who giggled, twirling her hair and returning the gesture. As I stared at him, his gaze flickered my way. His smirk widened, but he was distracted as a waiter poured him a glass of blood.

      A waiter appeared at my side too, offering me wine. I accepted and he returned within seconds – after only a minute or two, they had filled every glass and they moved to the side of the room, where they retrieved large platters of food. It didn’t look very substantial – there were small canapés and tiny bowls of soup, one of which I took, staring down at the assortment of knives, forks and spoons laid out in front of me, unsure of which to use. I glanced to my right for help, but Fabian and Ilta were already engaged in conversation with those sat on their other sides.

      ‘Work from the outside in,’ a soft American voice whispered from my left. I looked up, startled to see the vampire I didn’t know talking to me.

      ‘Thanks,’ I hissed back, taking up the spoon at the very edge. The vampire dipped a spoon into his soup, scooping away from him. I copied his actions, watching how he ate exactly. I grimaced as I took my first mouthful. Asparagus. Yuck.

      He smiled a little, amused. ‘I’m Alex,’ he said.

      ‘Violet,’ I replied, returning his smile.

      ‘Oh, I know,’ he chuckled.

      I raised my eyebrows, displeased that everyone knew my name, but he just laughed once more.

      ‘So, tell me, Violet, what do you think of the royal family?’ he asked. ‘Honestly,’ he added.

      My face fell. ‘They’re all right, they haven’t done anything to me, but Kaspar is …’ I trailed off. He looked taken aback. ‘What?’ I asked.

      ‘Kaspar and I are friends.’

      Oops. ‘Oh,’ I breathed, awkward. ‘Well, I guess he is kind of—’

      ‘It’s fine, you are entitled to an opinion.’ He smiled, but it looked forced. We fell into silence for a while, then Alex began to start talking animatedly to Fabian, across me. Guess they are friends too. Small world.

      I was saved from my solitary vigil by the arrival of the main meal. The vampires all had steak, cooked so rare that blood still oozed from the tender meat. A plate was placed onto the table in front of me and I was surprised to see something vegetarian-looking, which I poked at with my fork, not too sure about it. The room became quiet for a while, as everyone ate. I watched others eat, and I had to admit, it was really quite weird watching vampires eat human food with knives and forks. Very civilized.

      ‘I hear, Violet, that you were accepted at university. Do tell us what you were planning to study?’ Ilta asked, his slick voice breaking through the stillness.

      ‘O-oh,’ I began with a nervous stutter, aware that most of the vampires were now looking at me, interested. ‘I was going to study politics, philosophy and economics actually,’ I gushed, knowing it wouldn’t go down too well – it was obvious that meant I was going to follow in my father’s footsteps.

      A black box rattled deep within my mind and I frowned a little, trying to lock away what I suspected about my father.

      ‘Ah, I see,’ Ilta replied. I looked at the floor, embarrassed.

      ‘You must be an intelligent student,’ Fabian intervened.

      ‘I guess …’

      ‘Who are you kidding? Anyone can get into university these days!’ Charity cut in with disdain.

      Kaspar raised his glass and I was sure I heard him mumble ‘you couldn’t, Charity’ into it.

      ‘Indeed. Education is no longer simply for the elite,’ an old man said. His wispy white hair was tied in a long ponytail, his beard flicked over his shoulders. He spoke to Charity, but watched me with an increasingly pensive stare.

      Fabian noticed the man’s stare and shifted. ‘Violet, this is Eaglen. He is the vampire I told you about the other night. The old one,’ he mouthed. The man, Eaglen, smiled.

      ‘Yes, the old one,’ he echoed, finishing off the last drop in his glass, which was hastily refilled. He chuckled and turned away, seemingly satisfied. I arched an eyebrow at Fabian, who shared my puzzled expression.

      ‘He’s like that sometimes,’ he muttered.

      Glasses continued to be filled at the King’s order, but as the waiters moved forward, bottles now empty, they paused, staring at me – the next nearest blood source. I saw Alex and Kaspar exchange worried looks and Fabian did the same whilst discretely shuffling his chair closer to mine. Conversation died away and the room rippled into hush.

      ‘Violet, go,’ Ilta said, as Fabian pushed my chair back. ‘Quickly.’

      I didn’t need telling twice. I scrabbled out of my chair and backed to the wall, feeling my way across the room, too scared to turn my back on any of them. Every bloodthirsty pair of eyes followed me until I reached the door and fell out, slamming it behind me.

      I leaned against the wall of the corridor, breathing heavily. A couple of tears escaped my sore eyes and I wished for nothing more than my bed, at home, where it was safe. A knot of homesickness formed in