Page 18 of Only Fangs

“Yeah,” he continues, “so apparently that’s his thing. Stalking baby vampires…” He looks up at me and I can see the anger and the hurt painted across his face. But then he smiles. “It’s almost like a rite of passage.”

“And that makes you feel better?”

“It makes me feel less alone. And less like it was my fault, you know?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I tell him gently.

“I know. But I thought maybe I was too naive, too trusting. That if I’d been more… I don’t know what the right word is… but maybe he wouldn’t have sought me out.”

“But you can’t push everyone away forever.”

“I know. So maybe I should… you know. See what’s out there.”

“Like go on some dates?” I ask him, leaning forward in my seat. I’ve been waiting for years for him to come out of his shell.

“Maybe.” The word is little more than a whisper, as if he doesn’t want to tempt fate.

“Well then, I’d best be getting ready.”

I want to hug him and tell him that this is brilliant news and I’m so excited for him. And proud of him. But I know that would only make him uncomfortable. So instead I pat him on the shoulder as I head to get changed. For the briefest second he covers my hand with his own.

Half an hour later, pyjamas abandoned in favour of a pair of dark blue jeans and a black shirt – the only thing I had ironed, I’m happy to get dragged out in the middle of the night but I draw the line at having to iron – we arrive at The Raven’s Quill.

“Good evening, sir,” the doorman says.

“We should be on the list. Matt Simpson and Brody Jackson,” Matt tells him.

“Of course, sir,” he replies as he opens the heavy wooden door to invite Matt in. This isn’t our usual kind of place. This is the kind of place that proper old school vampires go to.

The first thing I notice is how dark it is, but eventually my eyes adjust to the gloom. The Raven’s Quill is seriously swanky: the walls are a matte charcoal grey and the floor a polished mahogany. All the upholstery is a black brocade, with deep maroon velvet curtains draping between booths to create a sense of privacy. There are no lights, just thousands of guttering candles on every available surface, casting flickering shadows across the faces of the vampires drinking an array of exquisite looking cocktails.

I spot Ari first, it’s hard not to notice her, and tap Matt on the shoulder to point him in the right direction. He stops abruptly and I walk into him in the gloom. No vampire super-sight for this human.

“Who’s that?” He turns slightly and hisses in my ear.

“Who?”

“The guy with Clara and Ari?”

There was a portrait of the three of them in Ari’s flat. Painted in the twenties, or at least made to look like it was, the three of them were dressed to impress, all sequins and furs and long cigarette holders. “Ivan,” I tell Matt. “Ari called their group ‘the terrible three’. They’ve been friends for ever.”

“Oh.”

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

“No. It’s just…”

“He’s hot?” Matt has never shied away from pointing out guys that he fancied so I know the kind of man he finds attractive. And he definitely has a penchant for dudes with fabulous manicures and I can see Ivan’s blood red nails from here.

Matt just nods.

“Well, let’s go and get you introduced, shall we?” At least this Ivan has been vetted by Ari and Clara, they wouldn’t have been friends with him for this long if he was a total nightmare.

Ari is already tipsy and she throws her arms around me as we get to the table.

“Uh, hi,” I manage to utter into her hair. But then she jumps back as if I burned her.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she says quickly, putting her hands up in front of her in a defensive motion. “No lawsuit here.”