Rufus began to be very afraid. Until now, his anger towards Viviana and his love for Serafina had insulated him, but here, in the ominous calm of the vampire’s refuge, he was suddenly all too aware of the danger they must face. He felt stifled, unable to breathe, almost unable to move one foot in front of the other.
Then he heard Serafina’s voice in his mind, speaking softly, calmly. Courage, Rufus. She’s powerful, but not invulnerable.
Rufus spoke back to her. You’re right. We have to believe we can defeat her. Together, we will defeat her.
He took a deep breath and propelled Tamati along the driveway.
When they reached the porch, Tamati drew a key from his trouser pocket and opened the front door. The three of them stepped into the large, high-ceilinged vestibule Rufus had glimpsed previously. Tamati peered about him as though at any moment Viviana might appear to exact punishment. But nothing stirred. The only sound was the heavy ticking of a grandfather clock. The time was twenty-two minutes past noon.
Serafina moved towards a closed door, beckoning Rufus, who still had a firm grasp on Tamati, to follow. She stared around the spacious, opulently furnished drawing room in which she had first woken after her abduction. There was the plush chaise longue with its fat, velvet cushions, the chairs by the fireplace, the rich, oriental rugs on the polished floors. A shudder of fear ran through her, but she quickly suppressed it, taking care to remain withdrawn into herself. No hint of their presence must penetrate the veil of Viviana’s torpor.
She turned to Tamati. “Where are the others?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps they’re sleeping, or out.” Tamati’s tone was defensive, but he was clearly afraid.
“Look at me,” Serafina commanded. Reluctantly, Tamati obeyed. “You know where Viviana sleeps?” Tamati nodded. “Then show us.”
Tamati cringed away from her in terror. Rufus gave him a shove and he began to move towards the door.
Wait! Rufus spoke into Serafina’s mind. The weapons!
He strode to the glass-fronted cabinet that held Viviana’s weapon collection and wrenched open the locked doors. Selecting a wicked looking stiletto and a bone-handled dagger with a slim, double-edged blade, he returned and offered both blades to Serafina. She chose the stiletto.
“Now,” she said to Tamati, who looked as though he wanted to sink through the floorboards, “take us to Viviana.”
Visibly trembling at the thought of rousing Viviana from her sleep, Tamati led Serafina and Rufus across the tiled vestibule and up the wide, curving staircase to the balustraded landing overlooking it. Serafina glanced along the passage leading to her former prison, then took a deep breath and looked away again. Tamati led them in the other direction, past a number of closed doors. As they made their silent way, one of the doors opened and Elizabeth appeared. Her eyes grew wide as she saw Rufus and Serafina. As she opened her mouth to speak, Serafina fixed her with a steady gaze. In seconds, the girl was under her control, and Serafina spoke into her mind.
Don’t be afraid, we won’t harm you. Find all the others and take them down to the sitting room, and stay there quietly until we tell you otherwise. Do you understand?
Elizabeth nodded, her seawater eyes empty of expression, and went to do Serafina’s bidding.
At the end of the passage, Tamati pointed to a door that, unlike the others, had an arched lintel like a Gothic window. Rufus realised it must be the entrance to the domed tower.
“She’s in there.” Tamati’s voice was a barely audible, as though he feared Viviana would hear him, even in her death-like sleep.
He made to retreat, but Serafina took a firm grip on his arm and thrust him in front of her and Rufus. Rufus grasped his other arm. Neither he nor Serafina said a word, so withdrawn into themselves, yet so closely linked that they acted as one from an instinct far deeper than thought. Serafina reached past Tamati, slowly and silently turned the brass doorknob and pushed open the heavy door. She placed a forefinger against Tamati’s mouth and glared fiercely at him. He nodded, and made no sound as they entered an octagonal room darkened by heavy curtains drawn across the tall windows that took up the whole of one wall.
A glance around the room revealed an elegant oak dressing table and wardrobe, an ornate, tiled fireplace with expensive-looking vases and silver candlesticks adorning its mantelpiece and, opposite this, a massive oak bed with carved bedposts and bed head. On the bed, beneath a crimson quilted-velvet coverlet, lay the unconscious form of Viviana Alexandreu, her chalk-white face seeming almost phosphorescent in the gloom, her hair spread out in waves of night on the snowy pillowcase. Even as she slept, Rufus and Serafina could sense about her an aura of darkness.
Rufus looked at Serafina. Her face was a mask as she sought to control her fear. Together they crept towards the ancient vampire, daggers raised, every sense alert and focused. Released from their hold, Tamati tried to flee, but terror seemed to immobilise him and he sagged against the wall by the open door, his hands clamped over his mouth as though to prevent a scream from bursting forth.
Reaching the bed, Serafina stared down at Viviana’s apparently lifeless form. With infinite care she pulled back the bedclothes and lifted her stiletto high above the vampire’s breast, all her hatred and loathing pouring out of her and into the blade.
Viviana’s eyes snapped open.
Instinctively, Serafina drew back. Viviana sat up, fixing her with eyes like bottomless pits of darkness, and snarled deep in her throat. Serafina stared at her in horror.
Viviana schooled her face into a mockery of a smile. “Why, Serafina,” she said in a caricature of seductiveness, apparently oblivious of both Serafina’s expression and the stiletto in her hand, “you’ve returned to me after all. I knew you’d be unable to stay away.”
There was a soft thud behind them as Tamati sank to his knees on the floor. In an instant, Viviana was at his side, her eyes like burning coals as she leaned over him.
“My money,” she hissed, her voice dripping menace.
Tamati tugged a package from his coat pocket and held it out to her with trembling hands.
Snatching the package, Viviana pulled him to his feet and began to caress him, sliding her hands inside his shirt and over his smooth skin, murmuring, “So pretty, and so strong – for a human. Tell me, Tamati,” she purred, rubbing her cheek, catlike, against his, and nipping at his earlobe with her teeth and the tip of her tongue, “have I treated you well?” The young man nodded, beginning to relax beneath her touch. “Yes, my pretty boy, I’ve given you luxury and pleasure beyond your wildest dreams, have I not?” Tamati nodded again, his eyes fixed on hers in adoration as her hand moved up to caress his cheek and neck. “And this is how you repay me?” Viviana’s voice was suddenly like the hiss of a snake about to strike. She thrust the package into his face and then dashed it to the floor. “I should have had this yesterday!”
“But—” Tamati began, his gaze shifting to Rufus and Serafina, his eyes imploring their intercession.
But Viviana had already closed one icy hand hard about his neck and lifted him from the floor as though he were a rag doll. A rattling sound came from his throat and blood and saliva frothed from his lips and dribbled down his chin. His eyes bulged in his head and his hands scrabbled feebly at the fingers that held him fast, his legs jerking like those of a man hanging on a gibbet. Viviana, snarling, shook him like a dog worrying a rabbit. There was a sharp crack and his body went limp. Viviana stared at him for a moment in apparent disappointment. Then she flung him across the room like a child discarding a broken toy. Tamati’s body struck the fireplace with a moist crunch and slid down onto the hearth. Blood seeped from his mouth and nose and ears, staining the polished tiles. An oriental porcelain vase, dislodged by the impact of his body, toppled from the mantelpiece and shattered on the hearth beside him, his blood staining its shards dark crimson.
With the air of one having dispensed with minor, but necessary business, Viviana turned to Rufus and Serafina, smoothing her n
ightgown, seeming unconcerned by the blood now staining its delicate white lawn.
“I do apologise for that distraction. Ah—” she turned to Rufus with a mocking curtsey, “—so this is the delightful Rufus.” She ran her eyes over him in a way that made him feel she could see right through his clothing. “Yes, I can quite see the attraction, though I prefer them a little more rugged, myself.” She turned her gaze on Serafina. “How remiss of you, my dear, not to introduce us. Still, it’s good to see you’ve both come to your senses. As I explained to you, Serafina, all this—” She spread her arms wide, as though to encompass the entire estate, “—all this can now be yours, and Rufus’s, of course, since he’s chosen to join you.”
“Oh, yes,” Serafina said, her voice harsh with fury. “Ours at a price!”
“But such a small price!” Viviana’s voice was almost a purr.
“To betray our kin?” said Rufus. “You call that a small price?”
“Ah, but I’m also your kin, am I not? Besides, consider the benefits: a beautiful home, never to have to hunt in back alleys and feed from the dregs of society – to be safe from human prejudice…”
“To be slaves to a monster!” Serafina retorted, her voice pulsating with disgust and loathing.
“Not slaves.” Viviana affected hurt. “No, no, I shall be your protector, and all I ask in return is that you deliver me Anton Springer.”
“So you can kill him?” cried Serafina. “I won’t do it! Neither of us will! He’s worth twenty of you!”
Viviana’s features hardened. Her eyes took on a feral cunning. “Why then,” she murmured, “as we used to say in the old days, let the games begin. But do you really imagine you can overcome me?”
As she spoke, she began to circle them like a wolf eyeing its prey, her gaze never leaving them for a second. Instinctively, Rufus and Serafina stood back-to-back, weapons at the ready, watching for the slightest opening in Viviana’s defences, the faintest flagging of her concentration. Power and malice emanated from her in waves, sickening in their intensity, alien in their nature, even to Rufus and Serafina. It was an effort not to succumb as she sought to batter them into submission.
There came the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Both Rufus and Serafina started in surprise. Viviana snarled like a wild beast, turning towards the sound.
The moment her back was towards them, Serafina and Rufus literally threw themselves upon her, striking at her with their weapons. Viviana shook them off so that Rufus’s dagger merely glanced off her right shoulder, ripping the fabric of her nightgown but leaving her flesh unscathed. But Serafina clung to her, driving her stiletto into the vampire’s back beneath the shoulder blade, grunting with satisfaction as bright blood soaked through her gown.
Viviana shrieked like a wounded animal and rounded on Serafina, her lips drawn back to expose yellowed fangs. Her eyes blazed with fury. She had become a true predator, driven purely by instinct and the need to kill. They could expect no mercy, no human feeling at all. They were her enemies, and thus her prey. For the first time, Rufus understood how Viviana could have dedicated four centuries to pursuing Springer. He also knew she would never stop until one of them was destroyed. To overcome her, they must cast aside their own humanity, at least for now, and meet her on her own terms. He could only hope they’d be able to return again afterwards.
The ancient vampire had turned so swiftly that she had torn the stiletto from Serafina’s hand, leaving it embedded in her back. Now she shook herself like a dog in a vain attempt to dislodge it, and then, apparently deciding to ignore it, launched herself straight at Serafina. Serafina threw herself to one side, but Viviana fell upon her, knocking her to the floor, hands and teeth reaching for her throat.
With a cry, Rufus rushed at her. Viviana threw back one arm to fend him off. Its force knocked the dagger from his grasp, though the blade bit deeply into her hand. She scarcely seemed to notice, returning her attention to Serafina, who was struggling in vain to free herself. Rufus, half-demented with fear and rage, yanked the stiletto from Viviana’s back and lifted his arm to stab her once more.
“Stand back, Rufus!” a voice called from the doorway. “This one is mine, I believe.”
Incredulous, Rufus turned to see Springer. Immaculately clad as usual, he stood in a shaft of light that shone through the doorway, making his pale hair gleam like mother of pearl. A faint, mocking smile curved his lips, but his eyes were granite shot with fire.
Forgetting Serafina, Viviana leapt up to face Springer with a triumphant snarl. A hiss escaped her lips, as though she had tried to utter his name but was no longer capable of human speech.
“So, Viviana.” Springer spread his hands as though offering himself to his enemy. “It seems your long search is at an end.”
The sound Viviana uttered was part human, part wild beast.
She flew at Springer, fangs bared, arms stretched out towards him, her long fingers curved into claws. Just as swiftly, Springer was beyond her reach. For breathless moments they circled one another, Springer always with that mocking smile on his lips. As he doubtless intended, this drove Viviana into a frenzy of vengeful rage. Yet, like the feral creature she now was, she remained focused on her prey. Her eyes never left Springer, watching for the slightest hint of an opening.
So intent was she on her ancient enemy that she failed to notice Serafina swiftly roll beyond her reach and get to her feet. She did not see Rufus rush to Serafina’s side, did not sense them as they conducted a rapid mental exchange and then left the room.
Moments later they returned, each bearing a sword whose honed steel blade gleamed in the dim light. Serafina carried a third sword, its blade slender but deadly sharp. Mentally, she called to Springer and threw it to him. Without taking his eyes from Viviana, Springer reached out as the sword arced towards him and caught it. Then Serafina and Rufus ran at Viviana from behind, screaming like savages, their swords raised to strike her. Momentarily distracted by their cries, Viviana’s gaze wavered from Springer.
It was only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough.
Springer leapt. His sword flashed, struck, buried itself in Viviana’s breast. She sank to her knees clutching at the blade, heedless of the cuts to her hands and the blood welling up to stain the bright steel. Then she raised her arms, her fingers hooking like claws as she sought to grasp at Springer as he stood over her.
“Curse you, Anton Springer!” she rasped through bloody lips.
“No, Viviana, it’s your own curse that has turned on you at last. I killed von Dunkel because what he did was evil. Out of sheer malice, he condemned me to an existence I neither sought nor could escape. Merely to feed his own hubris, he imprisoned me forever, and who knows how many others besides. He was a true child of yours, Viviana Alexandreu, and in killing him I did the world a favour.”
“Fool!” Viviana gasped through her pain. “In—four hundred—years, you—have—learned—nothing.”
“On the contrary,” Springer replied. “I’ve learned that even though I’m a vampire, I can still do some good in the world, or at least refrain from doing evil. I’ve learned to save lives by controlling the appetites foisted on me by your kin. I’ve—”
“Spare me—the—sanctimony,” Viviana rasped. Her words gurgled in her throat as blood bloomed in her mouth, spilling crimson petals over her ashen skin. The fire in her eyes had dulled. Already they had begun to appear lifeless, even as she struggled against the ending of her long existence. With an effort, she managed to wrest the sword from her breast and fling it from her. She clutched at the wound with both hands, dark, viscous blood flowing between her fingers. She stared at it as though unable to believe what was happening, and then up at Springer. Her bloodstained face was a mask of hatred.
Springer looked down at her, his features impassive. “I’ll spare you further pain,” he said, “and that’s a great deal more than you deserve.”
He turned to Serafina. Without a word, she held out her sword to him.
<
br /> The second Springer’s eyes left her, Viviana, with a supreme effort, dragged herself to her feet. Blood still leaked sluggishly from her chest wound, but it was already beginning to heal. With a grimace of pain, she stooped and caught up Springer’s sword. Rufus called out a warning, but by the time it had left his lips, Viviana had launched herself at Springer, wielding the sword as though it were a spear. It caught Springer on his sword arm, drawing blood and knocking his weapon from his hand. With a triumphant shriek, Viviana raised her arm for another attack. Springer leapt back, barely avoiding the ferocious blow she aimed at him. As he stooped to retrieve his sword, Viviana sprang at him, knocking him to the floor, letting her own sword fall as her blood-soaked fingers sought his throat. Locked together they rolled on the floor, Viviana snarling like a crazed animal. She was smaller and lighter than Springer, but her fury seemed to lend her strength. The wound in Springer’s arm bled freely, and his breath came in laboured gasps as he sought to keep Viviana’s fingers from tightening about his neck.
Serafina shot a look of desperation at Rufus. Both daggers and the swords used by Springer and Viviana still lay on the floor, but it was impossible to reach them without the risk of distracting Springer and putting him in further danger. The only available weapon was the one in Rufus’s hands.
Swallowing his fear and revulsion, Rufus raised it in both hands and brought it down with all his strength on Viviana’s back. As it bit into her right shoulder, he heard the sharp steel crunch through her shoulder blade and her arm fell limply at her side. With a roar, she sprang up and turned on him, her teeth bared in a snarl that might equally have expressed pain or rage. Rufus drew back a pace to ready his sword for another blow.
But Springer, who had rolled out of harm’s way and snatched up his sword as he leapt to his feet, was there before him, striking Viviana a savage blow across the back. The vampire collapsed to the floor, her face writhing in agony, blood pouring from her crushed shoulder and the gash on her back. Rasping sounds came from her blood-caked lips as she tried to speak. But she could only stare, incredulous, as Springer raised his sword above his head.
A Different Hunger Page 29
