Page 64 of Only Fangs

“But you are an idiot who doesn’t understand these things.” He says it gently, like he only sort of means it.

“I know. But she doesn’t need to know that.”

“So how are we going to figure out what you need to take with you?”

I turn slowly, the expression on my face half grimace and half grin.

“Fine.” He pulls out his phone and calls Ivan.

I try not to listen to their exchange, partly from curtesy and partly because there are things that will haunt my nightmares if I let them, I really do not need to know that level of detail about what they do when they’re alone. It’s pretty obvious they’re more than friends, but Matt hasn’t told me much in the way of specifics yet. Eventually he moves on to the question at hand. After a series of “yes” and “I see” and “ahem” he tells Ivan he’ll see him soon and then hangs up.

“So?” I ask, fingers crossed that Ivan has imparted his two centuries of vampire wisdom.

“It’s a white tie gala evening.”

“White tie? Don’t you mean black?”

“Apparently not.” He makes a face that tells me he has also never heard of white tie. But then his phone beeps and he turns the screen to show me. Ivan has sent him a link to a few pictures of penguin suits.

“I don’t suppose you have one of these magic white ties?” I ask Matt, knowing full well that he does not own a penguin suit. At least not yet.

There’s another beep.

“Ivan’s on his way.” A tiny smile creeps over Matt’s face at the thought of seeing him. “He’s going to lend you one.”

There’s an awkward moment where I’m standing in my underpants being appraised by my best friend’s new boyfriend – new vampire boyfriend – and I have never felt so exposed in my entire life.

“Do you work out?” Ivan asks, as he pulls out a black jacket. The front is cropped with covered buttons and the back is long, with actual pleats. I’m going to look ridiculous.

“Ummm…” I never know what I’m meant to say in answer to that question. Not much, is the truth. But I’m also painfully aware that I won the genetic lottery and have a natural six pack and a broad muscular back. Most people prefer to imagine I work my arse off. Like it’s some kind of punishment. I open my mouth to mention the man-tits, but decide to stay quiet. I don’t want Ivan to think I’m weird, or a bit of a dick.

Ten minutes later and I’m standing in the suit in front of the mirror. Ivan is a fucking magician. I look amazing. Like seriously good.

“Oh. One final thing,” Ivan says as he plucks a scrap of deep red silk from his bag and deftly folds it into a square. “You want people to think you’re vampire right?”

I nod.

“The human rules of white tie say you should wear a white square, but all vampires wear a red one. This will stop them looking too hard.” He tucks the square into the breast pocket and then stands back to admire his handiwork. “Perfect.”

Matt is staring at me, his mouth open. “Umm… Just one question.” He raises his index finger. “What the fuck are you meaning about pretending to be vampire?”

I bite my lip and avoid making eye contact with him.

“Does Andrei Hele think you’re a vampire?” The way he’s asking this makes me think that maybe it isn’t the best idea anyone has ever had.

“It’ll be fine,” I tell him, as if that is a whole answer in itself. I’m somewhat sheepish. I might not have been strictly truthful with Matt about this element of the plan.

“Andrei Hele thinks you’re a vampire?” His voice rises by an octave.

I nod.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Chapter 33

Ari

Hele House sits nestled into a valley deep in Dartmoor. The long private driveway winds through ancient woodland, screening the property from prying eyes or adventurous dog walkers.