Page 92 of Only Fangs

“No.” She’s vehement, eyes flashing in anger that I would even think such a thing. “You are not going to marry that bully. That bastard.” She spits the word as though it has form in her mouth. “He almost destroyed you once and I will not let him do that again.” She closes the distance between us, grabbing my shoulders with both hands. “Promise me you’ll do everything you can to avoid that fate.”

“Of course. But…”

Her fingers tighten their grip. “I bought you a year.”

“A year? What?”

“Your wedding to Benedict will be pushed back a year.” She spells it out carefully.

“But how?” I ask.

“That doesn’t matter,” she says quickly. “But it gives you a little time to try to think of something, to figure it out.”

“How, Clara?” I ask more sternly this time.

She takes a deep intake of breath. “So, I kind of lied last week. You know when I said Daddy had given me a stay of execution for ten years?”

I nod.

“Well, technically he only gave me five. He told me I had to stop messing around and start to live up to my potential.” She scrunches up her face.

“But five years is nothing,” I say.

“It was something. But it doesn’t matter now anyway.” She smiles at me, but I can see it’s fake. “Luca and I are getting married in six months.”

“Six months? But he gave you five—” I cut myself off. “You traded your time for mine.”

“Of course. I was only delaying the inevitable. But you have a chance. There’s still hope you could find a way out of this mess. So promise me you’ll try.”

“OK. I promise.”

“We can do this.”

But even as I see the fire burn inside my best friend I can’t help but feel the creeping hand of inevitability closing its bony fingers around my fate. Happiness isn’t for the likes of me. Vampire princesses don’t get their happy ever afters, they get a life of duty and obligation and pity the fool who thinks it can be any other way.

Chapter 48

Brody

Ithink I held my breath the whole drive as my heart beat a drum inside my ribs. I don’t know what happened. One moment I was running, willing myself not to look behind me, the car in front of me, headlights on like a beacon drawing me home. Then they were in front of me. A flurry of teeth and rage, like a nightmare bought to life, bearing down on me. This is it, I told myself and felt my whole body brace for death as if it was the only inevitable conclusion.

But then there was a flash of red, a swirl of silk and the route to the car was clear once more.

Somehow – and I was sure it must be a trick and there would be someone, something, waiting for me on the back seat – the keys were in the car and the engine was running. The whole drive back across Dartmoor I was expecting to see a vampire pop up behind me, or for a vampire to land on the top of the car, the screech of metal as the roof was peeled back like a tin of sardines. But no one was inside. And no one chased me.

As soon as I pull onto the driveway, Matt and Ivan come running out, helping me from the car and into the house. I tell my story, breathless and terrified as I recount the details. Or at least the parts I remember; so much is a blur, as if it was a movie I was only half watching.

“They didn’t chase me,” I say, stunned that I’m alive and in one piece, sitting on my sofa with a cup of sugary tea.

“They did,” Ivan says with absolute certainty.

“But wouldn’t a vampire be able to outrun a car, especially on the twisty country roads around Hele House?” I ask.

“Of course. I guarantee they were with the car the whole way.”

“So how am I here?”

“Cars are like houses.” He shrugs, as if that makes any sense at all.