Page 75 of Only Fangs

She’s right. It really doesn’t. “It’s something my parents say. I’ve never really thought about it.” I smile. “Mum is the queen of the nonsense phrase; she’s always saying stuff like ‘he’s not the brightest tool in the box’ or ‘the world is your lobster’.”

“She sounds cool, your mum.”

“Hmmm. More like a certifiable lunatic.” But I’m only joking and Ari smiles at the warmth in my voice. I love my family and I can’t help but show it.

We find some more champagne and then some nibbles, thankfully sans horseradish this time, and I’m starting to feel that comfortable wooziness that comes from fine wine and even better company.

But then we meet Cecil and Iris Francis and the evening starts to shift off centre a little.

“Of course, vampire only dating is to be applauded,” Iris says.

“Yes, can’t have them infiltrating can we?” Cecil adds. I recognise the voice as one of the men from last night and the conversation about hunting that Ari thought I mis-heard. But standing here with him, looking into his eyes as he begins to pontificate on the moral danger of vampires dating normies and what it might do to the “bloodstock”, it doesn’t feel like much of a leap to imagine him chasing down a human. We are nothing to him.

It’s chilling.

And then we meet the Montagues. “William Montague,” he introduces himself. “And my wife.” He doesn’t even give her a name. It’s weird and awkward and I feel very sorry for her. Imagine being known only as a man’s wife for eternity. “We were very pleased to see modern technology finally being used to the benefit of the vampire population.”

Mrs Montague says nothing, her eyes trained to the floor.

“We’re assuming,” Mr Montague continues, “that there will be a significant focus on marriage matches.” It isn’t a question. “If we are to be shareholders, then we will expect to have a say in the development. And we certainly don’t want to be encouraging casual hookups.”

“We want vampires to find true love,” Ari assures him, her voice as sweet as honey, but she reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it so hard she almost breaks my bones.

The Montagues move away in search of someone else to berate about traditional values and for a moment I breathe a sigh of relief. So far I seem to be getting away with my deception. Perhaps I’m far better at pretending to be a vampire than I’ve given myself credit for? I grab another glass of champagne from a passing waiter and a little canapé from another; it looks like a miniature taco topped with guacamole.

But just as I’m about to bite into it – all puffed up and congratulating myself on my camouflage skills – I’m approached by a guy in his mid-twenties. So I guess he’s about seventy in real years. Older than my parents. Which is nuts and so I’m just going to try not to think about it.

“Blundell,” he says, thrusting his hand towards me.

I make a show of juggling my glass and the little taco as if I’m trying to return the handshake but unable to. “Sorry,” I say and put on a grimace. “I’m Brody.”

“A pleasure.” He puts his outstretched hand into the pocket of his penguin suit and scans the room. “I hate these events,” he says conspiratorially.

I just nod and glance at Ari, but she’s deep in conversation with another stuffy looking older vampire. I have no idea who this guy is and so I’m not about to slag off any other guests, or the event itself. He could be anyone. He could be someone important.

“I always find them so dull,” Blundell adds. I’m assuming Blundell is his surname but he’s not offered me anything else. Perhaps it’s a posh vampire thing like the guys who went to Eton and exclusively use their surnames?

I nod again and stuff the miniature taco into my mouth. At least if I’m chewing he can’t expect me to answer and hopefully he’ll move on and find someone else to make small talk with.

“Any good?” he asks as he watches me chew, leaning slightly against the wall as if he’s making himself extra comfortable for the show.

I hate people watching me eat. It’s like when the waiter asks “is everything OK?” about your meal the second you put a large chunk of steak into your mouth. I do this weird thumbs up.

“I’m not normally a fan of worm food,” he says and there’s a sneer in his tone.

Worm food? I swallow. “I think it was beef actually,” I reply.

He laughs. “I mean the kind of food the worms eat. Have you ever tasted worm?” There’s a glint in his eye.

I don’t think he’s meaning worm as in annelid. I shake my head.

“Fucking delicious. Especially if they are young and fit. Like him.” He points towards one of the waiters, the same one who had touched me when he was handing out the Alba last night.

“Oh… ermmm…” What the fuck am I meant to say to a vampire who is casually pointing out humans he wants to fucking eat?

“You should join the hunt one day,” he says. He grins and reaches into his pocket, withdrawing a business card. “Give me a call if you’d be interested. We need more young people to get involved with the community.”

I take it from him, being extremely careful not to touch him as I do so. “Great. I’ll call you,” I mumble and slide the card into the inside pocket of Ivan’s jacket.