I shivered, chilled to the bone. The cool gloss of the grand piano seemed to mock me, as my pale, frightened reflection stared back. My eyes were even wearier these days, and I sighed. It wasn’t just the memory of the London Bloodbath that was fading. So was the hope of getting out of Varnley.
We’ll get you out of there, Violet, but it’s going to take time …
My father’s parting words haunted me. I was waiting it out all right. But how much longer could I last?
TWENTY
Violet
‘Can I look yet?’ I asked, eyes squeezed shut as Lyla guided me towards the mirror.
‘No, not yet.’ There was a tugging as she teased a loose strand of hair around her finger, before fastening it into a clip. ‘Okay, you can look,’ she buzzed.
I opened my eyes to see an unfamiliar person staring back, violet eyes ablaze as they widened in shock.
‘Is that me?’
Lyla nodded, eyes examining her creation. She waved two of the maids from the room as I looked up and down the length of the mirror, hardly believing that the person staring back was what I had been transformed into.
My dark, black hair was loosely curled, falling just below my shoulders. My fringe and some of the looser curls had been swept back off my forehead, pinned by a tiny rose clip on one side of my head. My skin was all one colour: a pallid, pasty white and I wore barely any make-up, just mascara, eyeliner and a sweep of dark eye shadow. Around my neck was a black lace choker, another ornate rose attached to it. I could feel it pressing into my windpipe, as a steady pulse throbbed against the delicate material.
But it was the dress that was the real transformation. It was a strapless ball gown, violet in colour – no coincidence, obviously. The neckline was heart-shaped, a figure-hugging corset clinging to my waist as thousands of tiny glass beads ran across the bust and the length of one side. The skirt flared from the hip, the material puckered and gathered with yet more beads until it just brushed the ground. I would kill to own a dress like it. Kill.
I looked once more at my sallow-looking skin. Blush was strictly taboo in the world of vampires, so I wasn’t wearing any – it left me looking ill, but it worked.
‘Here, you will need these,’ Lyla said, handing me a pair of crystal-white gloves. I pulled them on and they reached just past my elbows. ‘Don’t ever take them off,’ she instructed, and I nodded, turning to look at her properly for the first time.
Gone was the usual pink tinge from her hair, replaced by an even shade of deep chestnut. It was pinned up, a few loose strands falling around her face. Her dress was emerald and backless, the material falling as low as the hollow in her spine. The rest of the material flowed to the floor, where it pooled in a small train. She wore very little make-up – not that she needed it.
She pulled an emerald sash over her dress, the Varns’ coat of arms emblazoned across the material in silver. The one maid who had remained came forward, placing a dainty, not to mention very expensive-looking diamond tiara on Lyla’s head, and handing her a pair of white gloves, almost identical to the ones I wore.
‘Well, I think I am ready and you certainly are. I must say, you are my most impressive achievement,’ she prattled.
‘Thanks,’ I mumbled sarcastically.
‘You could almost pass for a vampire,’ she continued, as the maid helped to fasten a silver chain around her neck. I turned back to the mirror. Do I really look that different? Can I really pass as a vampire?
The answer was no. I could still see a throbbing vein in my neck; see the natural blush colouring my cheeks; feel my steady heartbeat. I did not have the grace, or the elegance of a vampire and I completely despised everything they stood for. And of course, I knew I would smell most appealingly like a human.
Butterflies tickled the lining of my stomach and a little dread poisoned my mind. I could hear soft sounds of an orchestra playing downstairs and the drumming of many feet moving across a hard, marble floor. Outside, it was a hive of activity as cars pulled up, butlers and valets rushing to attend to the guests. Each time I heard the incoherent voice of someone speaking far below, my stomach would do back flips, making me lurch. Even the clock seemed to taunt me, as the hands crawled towards midnight.
‘Who did you say you were going with again?’ I asked, anxious to preoccupy my mind.
‘My second cousin. Arranged of course. A favour to my aunt,’ Lyla explained in a displeased tone, clearly annoyed at her lack of choice in the matter.
‘Minger?’
She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘Have you ever met a vampire who was a minger?’ I shook my head. ‘Precisely. They don’t exist. He just has an infuriatingly big ego. He will have the first and second dance and then disappear. We’ll be lucky if they find him tonight.’ She scowled, before muttering something incomprehensible under her breath.
‘Guessing you wish you could have gone with someone else, huh?’ I asked, nonchalantly.
‘Yes. And I know exactly who I would have gone with,’ she pined. Her eyes dulled, but that could just have been a trick of the light, because immediately afterwards, she straightened up and smiled. ‘Ready?’
Just then there was a brisk knocking at the door and the maid hurried to answer it.
Fabian strode into the room, wearing a dark tailcoat. His white shirt was well fitted, and hugged his torso until it disappeared behind a royal-blue cummerbund. His fair hair was sleeker and tidier than usual. A triangle of white poked out from his breast pocket and he also wore a pair of white gloves.
‘Wow,’ he breathed, his eyes taking me in. ‘Lyla, you’ve worked wonders!’ I blushed, not sure whether to take that as a compliment or insult.
Her eyes turned a faint shade of pink, and her gaze glided to the floor. ‘Oh, it was nothing.’ I noticed that neither she nor Fabian credited the maids, who had done most of the work.
She walked over to me and softly pecked me on the cheek, but not before she whispered, ‘Take care of him,’ in my ear, a single fang tugging at her bottom lip, which quivered. My eyes followed her as she withdrew into her enormous wardrobe, a lump forming in my throat. How could I have been so stupid? It was Fabian she had wanted to take. That explained her expression when he had asked me to the ball. But does Fabian know?
‘Time to go.’ He smiled, linking my arm with his and leaving me no time to ponder that question. He led me out of the room and down the stairs, where we joined the throng of people moving towards the ballroom. A few heads turned towards me and I flushed, over and over, the blood rushing to my cheeks. Fabian received a few nods from noble-looking men – vampires – and I tensed up, stricken.