Page 91 of Only Fangs

“I heard that bit.”

“You were in the tunnel behind the office?”

She nods and then looks away. “Brody won’t believe it.”

“Of course he will.”

“We’ll get a message to him, I’ve already spoken to Ivan.”

“You need to be careful, Clara.” I imbue some gravity into my words. “You need to stay on his good side.”

“Of Daddy?” she asks. “You know he doesn’t speak for me. And if he doesn’t like it then he can find someone else to marry off instead to make some perfect little vampire babies for him.”

“He did.”

She cocks her head a little. “What do you mean?”

I sigh. “I guess you didn’t hear that part. I mean that he wants me to marry Benedict.”

“Gross.” She makes a face. “But it isn’t like he can force you.”

“Actually, he might be able to.” I look away, not wanting to make eye contact with her as I tell her just how stupid I’ve been.

“What did you do?” she asks, trying but failing to mask the horror in her tone.

“I made a deal with Victor. And your father bought the debt from him.”

“Jesus,” she says on an outwards breath. “You’re a fucking idiot. Why did you make a deal with Victor?”

“Because I was desperate.” I say simply. Because that is the truth of it. I knew it was a mistake but I didn’t know where else to turn, I couldn’t see any other way out of the mess I’d created.

“Why didn’t you ask me to help?” She says it like it would have been the simplest thing in the world. Like I wouldn’t have had to admit to my glamorous and successful best friend that I was the ultimate fuck up with shitty taste in men and an inability to do anything with money except let it slip straight through my fingers.

“Because I was ashamed.” I spread my hands out in front of me.

“You know you’re my best friend in the whole world and I would do anything for you?” She’s earnest.

I can’t bear it and I look away, staring at a spot on the floor where the rug has faded over the centuries. “I know.” I take in a deep breath, feeling it rattle in my chest. “But you can’t interfere with this. It’s your dad. If you upset him, you know what he’ll do.” Clara’s stays of execution on her marriage are only as good as her relationship with her father, or at least only as good as he thinks their relationship is, her constant tight roping between keeping him sweet and not personally descending into the kind of depraved behaviour his cronies enjoy so much.

Clara turns away from me and crosses towards the door. “Wait here,” she says as she slips out of the room.

“Clara,” I call after her. ‘Don’t you fucking dare…” But she’s already gone.

She returns ten minutes later, walking straight back in without knocking. Her skin is pale and she’s wearing a smile that looks more like a grimace.

“Clara,” I use my big sister voice, the one I’ve used a few times to get the truth out of my best friend. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.” But I can tell from the tone of her voice that it very much not nothing.

“Tell me.”

She takes a deep breath. Then she clears her throat and gives her shoulders a little shimmy before pulling herself up to her full height. The mask slips back into place. Anyone else looking at her would think she was brimming with quiet confidence and pride in the direction of her own life. But I can see the terrified child underneath the veneer.

“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. Is there anything else to say to your best friend who has spent a century dodging the husband she doesn’t want but whose time may have finally run out?

“I know. It’ll all work out in the end.”

“If I marry Benedict we could still be together.” The words are out of my mouth before I really understand what I’m saying.