didn’t answer and I went back to my toast. Aware that he was watching me, I lowered my head and hid behind my hair, which was drying and twisting into ringlets. It chilled me that he could talk of the people he had killed as though they were just numbers and not people with loved ones and hopes and dreams. It chilled me even more that he wanted my approval. But they were his prey and it was probably easier for him to think like that.
‘I know you think that we’re murderers, Violet. And I know you would do anything right now to get out of here, but maybe, for your own sake, it would be better if you hold judgement until you know us better.’
I didn’t move my gaze away from the plate, afraid he might see my eyebrows arching in disbelief. I’m not going to get to know you any better, I thought. I’m not going to hang around for long enough.
Don’t be so sure, the voice in my head chuckled. It wasn’t my mind imagining someone chuckling, but the actual sound, bouncing off my skull. I heard Fabian say something and I blinked a few times, coming back to my senses.
‘What does full-fledged mean?’
He walked around the counter and pulled up a stool beside me. I shifted my stool back. ‘Changing the subject, are we?’ His eyes had returned to blue and a watery sheen coated them, making them twinkle in the light that slipped through the small windows high up the walls. ‘A fully-fledged vampire is an adult vampire.’
Seeing my confused face, he smiled. ‘A vampire born into vampirism – yes, most vampires are born and not turned,’ he added, interrupting himself. ‘A born vampire ages normally until he or she is eighteen. As in each year, they look a year older. They are not fully grown yet, so they are slightly weaker and not as thirsty. Cain is sixteen, so he won’t be full-fledged for another two years. Get it?’
I flicked a crumb across the plate. ‘Sort of. But what happens when a vampire reaches eighteen?’
I went to flick another crumb, but the plate tipped and fell off the edge of the counter. I cringed, waiting for it to smash. But the sound never came as Fabian reached down and snatched it from midair. Unfazed, he placed it back on the counter, brushing the remaining crumbs onto the floor.
‘We get faster and stronger,’ he said in a low voice, watching me watching him, my mouth ajar. He had moved so fast; so effortlessly. ‘And we start to age, but very slowly. Centuries pass and it doesn’t put a year on us.’
‘So vampires aren’t immortal?’ I asked, feeling a slight spark of interest.
‘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
