The Dark Blood of Poppies

by Freda Warrington

  This time she only stiffened beneath him. Her breath ran out in a sigh and she lay unresisting but not passive; participating, in the way that she rested her cheek on his hair and stroked his shoulder, while emotion informed her whole body with radiance.

  He kept his word, though it wasn’t easy.

  “Was it so terrible?” he asked afterwards.

  She rubbed her thumb over his lips, looked at her own blood on her thumb-tip. Unconsciously she sucked it clean. “Not quite,” she said faintly. “It was like floating.” She almost smiled, her eyes drowsy.

  Sebastian lay back, cradling her against his chest and stroking her hair. He wasn’t eager to hear her thoughts. He just wanted to hold her.

  As he did so, an inner voice spoke in horrified amazement. What the devil am I doing, showing a mortal tenderness? Have I gone mad? Humans are below us, like animals, their sufferings transient and meaningless… and yet, I’m compelled to be careful because I do not want her to die.

  The feeling was close to panic. He controlled it, telling himself firmly, Of course I’m not mad. It’s expedient to keep her alive and pliant so that I prolong my own pleasure. That is all.

  Have I quite deceived you yet, my Robyn?

  * * *

  When the ship sailed from New York, bound for Hamburg, Charlotte was sorry to leave. The tour had been successful beyond Violette’s dreams. Ballet Janacek had been feted across the continent. Most importantly, Violette seemed happy.

  Throughout the tour, she’d been kind to her dancers, gracious to the press. She hadn’t said a word about her usual concerns. Charlotte suspected that Violette had taken her advice, and was obeying the thirst instead of fighting it. She imagined the dancer slipping out each night to feed as neatly as a cat, in order to devote all her energy to the ballet.

  She’ll do that for her art, Charlotte thought, but not for herself.

  Sadly, the idyll had to end. Crowds of well-wishers lined the quay as they sailed, cheering and waving and throwing flowers. They saw Violette as a living legend, already immortal.

  No one, thought Charlotte, has the faintest idea of the truth.

  Home drew them like a current sweeping across a mist-veiled sea. Charlotte was aware of her mood darkening, sensed the same in Karl. There would be no more wanton sharing of prey.

  Violette took to her cabin, seeing no one but Geli. Charlotte began to despair. But one evening, as she stood at the rail watching the calm green sea at sunset, Violette softly joined her.

  “Something’s waiting for us at home,” said Violette. “I don’t know what… Something bad. Do you feel it too?”

  “Yes,” Charlotte admitted. “But if we stay away and ignore it, we’ll probably make things worse.”

  Violette fell quiet. Other guests were strolling on deck, elegant in evening dress. A few glanced at Violette, but were kind enough to respect her privacy.

  “While we were on the West Coast,” said Charlotte, “Karl and I entered the Crystal Ring.”

  “You go there every day.”

  “I mean we went to look at… the darkness there. To investigate.”

  “Stop.” Violette’s face was white. The ship’s rail creaked under the pressure of her fingers.

  “Don’t you want to hear what happened?”

  “You’re still alive, aren’t you? How bad could it be?”

  “Bad enough.”

  “And you think it’s my fault?” Violette glared frigidly at her. “Some physical manifestation of my inner sickness, is that it?”

  Charlotte exhaled, resting a hand on Violette’s shoulder. “Of course not. But we should face it, whatever it is. You won’t talk about anything.”

  The dancer looked away. “And you and Karl never stop. What good does it do? Please, Charlotte. I don’t even want to think about this when I get home. All I want is to work on a new ballet.”

  “Immediately?”

  “Yes, why not? A ballet about Lilith.”

  “Oh. That could be a risk.”

  “After Dans le Jardin? I know. Please don’t remind me of that disaster. No, I’ve learned by my mistakes. This will be different: the themes will be subtler, and I won’t use modern music or experimental sets. We’ll dress it up as an old-fashioned, tragic fairy tale, another Giselle. It will be beautiful. But I have to do this, Charlotte. It’s clawing its way out of me.”

  “What’s the story?”

  Violette brightened. “We’ll have Adam and Eve again, but this time the Serpent is a woman, Lilith. I’ll change their names, of course. A young man falls in love with a dark spirit of the forest, but when it’s time for him to marry, he chooses an innocent, compliant girl as his bride. Rejected, Lilith curses them. She torments the wife, seduces the man; she murders their children and excludes their souls from heaven…”

  “It sounds very dark.”

  “No, it will work,” Violette said fervently. “The tale will be beautiful and tragic!”

  “Do you see yourself in such a negative light?”

  Violette met her gaze. “You know I do. That’s why I need to explore Lilith. Josef told me to confront myself, after all.”

  “How does it end?”

  “I really don’t know. But I need Ute to dance the wife; if only I hadn’t driven her back to her bloody father!” She looked at Charlotte, thoughtful. “I suppose you wouldn’t consider…?”

  “I can’t dance.”

  “Yes, you can. I’ve seen you.”

  “That’s mimicry. Cheating. It’s only because vampires can imitate humans, not from years of training. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “And Karl can’t spare you.” Violette sounded more sad than bitter. “No, you go back to Switzerland. I’d be unfair to keep you in Salzburg. I’ll find someone.”

  “But don’t make it too dark. Have the children kidnapped, not murdered, so there can be a happy reunion!”

  Violette smiled. “You could write the story for me. All the steps are in my head. I’ll begin rehearsals without the remotest idea of how the ballet ends.”

  Charlotte thought, Does acting out your life save you from having to live it? She didn’t say it. Planning the new project made Violette calmer, at least.

  “You won’t dance because you’re not human,” Violette said presently. “Do you ever wish you were human again?”

  “I think of it, but in all honesty I wouldn’t go back,” said Charlotte. “Would you?”

  “I never felt human to begin with, so perhaps it wouldn’t be very different. Only… I met someone who gave me hope, but I had to leave her behind. Now I wish I hadn’t been so noble.” Pain darted across Violette’s face. “Is it possible to cross the Atlantic in a night, through the Crystal Ring? If only I could see Robyn one last time…”

  “You can probably do anything, dear, but I shouldn’t,” Charlotte said gravely. “Leave her alone. What possible good can a vampire lover be?”

  “You’re one to talk.”

  “Exactly. I know.”

  “Oh, it’s an idle wish. At least Robyn is safe. She’ll never know the lucky escape she had! I think I wanted to escape into her, into a warm, comforting human, because I’m frightened.”

  Her face perfect between raven wings of hair, Violette looked anything but vulnerable.

  “Of what?”

  “Myself, of course. I’m terrified of my capacity for destruction. I can hold Lilith in check for a time; you’ve no idea how hard I worked to ensure nothing went wrong on tour.”

  “I can guess.” Charlotte stroked her arm.

  “But she’ll have her way in the end.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “And I dread to think what may happen when we get home.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SHADOW DANCE

  Robyn had expected Sebastian to leave before dawn. Waking from a deep sleep, she was startled to find him still beside her. It was daylight, nearly eight o’clock. Half-asleep, leaden, she began to sit up.

  “Don’t move,” he said. “I like looking
at you. So lovely to watch you sleeping.”

  But Robyn was thinking of Mary and Alice about to bring her tea. She rarely let her “gentleman callers” stay the night. The last thing she wanted was for one of them to be confronted by their vampire attacker.

  Too late. She’d barely sat up when the door opened.

  Alice. Seeing Sebastian, she dropped the tray. As it hit the carpet with a crash of metal and china, Alice uttered an aborted scream and fled the room.

  “You’d better go,” Robyn said, hostile towards Sebastian again. “Get dressed!”

  “Why? That was your housekeeper, not an outraged mother.”

  His beauty threatened to captivate her, the leaf-green eyes and soft dark hair making her want to eat him alive, but she resisted.

  “She’s also my companion. You scare her to death! I care more about her feelings than yours – so leave.” She climbed out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown and tied the cord.

  “Without even a bath or a cup of tea?”

  “Don’t be facetious,” she snapped. Grabbing a hairbrush, she went to the dressing table mirror. The colour was high in her cheeks but otherwise her skin looked drained. She fingered the healed bite-marks on her shoulder and neck. Where he’d fed the second time, he had left a bruise and telltale blood streaks. Alice must have seen them.

  Sebastian’s face appeared in the mirror behind her. His long hands folded over her shoulders. Thank God he has a reflection, Robyn thought, or I might just lose my mind completely.

  “Are you regretting last night?” he asked.

  “I regret the whole damned thing.”

  “Don’t.” He pressed his mouth to her neck. She jumped violently, but he only kissed her. His warm silken lips made her tingle with echoes of their lovemaking. How carnal it seemed, in the judgemental light of day. Almost bestial. “When shall I see you again?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, savagely brushing her hair. “How soon would you like to attend my funeral?”

  “A few days,” he said ambiguously, and turned away.

  She heard him dressing. Eventually she swung round to say, “Don’t go yet,” only to find that he’d already disappeared.

  Alice was in her room, staring out of the window. Robyn glimpsed the roofs of Beacon Hill, sea mist condensing on the humid air, treetops flying a gorgeous array of colours.

  “It’s okay, Alice, he’s gone,” she said.

  Alice turned, looking pale but severe.

  “What in heaven’s name are you doing, letting that creature into your bed?”

  “Are you all right?” Robyn asked meekly.

  “Never mind me, answer the question!”

  “I notice you assume I invited him.”

  “I know you, madam. No man makes you do anything – not even him. How can you let this happen, knowing what he is? It’s obscene!”

  Finding Alice outraged rather than cowering, Robyn’s concern eased towards humour. “One good thing about this: at least I don’t need to convince you he’s a vampire.”

  Alice flinched, and one hand flew to her throat.

  “When you read things in a storybook, you don’t take it seriously. But when it really happens – Lord, it’s no joke. A stranger’s face leaning over you in the middle of the night. His mouth open, the terrible sharp teeth… And it’s agony, like being stabbed with knives… But the worst thing is the helplessness. An ordinary man I could have stabbed with my scissors, maybe… but his eyes paralysed me. If I was scared, how do you think poor Mary felt? It was obscene. So for you to be sleeping with him – that’s evil, ma’am. Just plain evil.”

  Alice’s passion rendered Robyn speechless. When she managed to answer, her voice was husky with shame.

  “Alice, I’m so sorry. I made him give his word never to touch you or Mary again. I know you’re afraid, with good reason, but it’s all right. You’re safe.”

  There was little conviction in her words. In truth, she had no control over Sebastian and didn’t trust him at all.

  “Even if we’re safe, what about you? There was blood all over you!”

  “Don’t exaggerate.” Robyn lowered her gaze.

  “It was obvious what he’d done! And you let him?”

  Robyn gave a single nod. “In a sense.”

  “For the love of God, are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  “I’m being stupid, I know, but…”

  “Stupid? Suicidal! What is he? I mean, we know he has a taste for blood, but what actually is he? You’re being completely reckless! Why, for pity’s sake? Why?”

  “Because…” She paused, searching for words. “He’s a wonderful lover.” She touched her friend’s shoulder, but Alice remained stony. “The only wonderful lover I’ve ever had.”

  She sighed at the memory. The searing, impossible pleasure that went on until she was a wrung-out rag, breathless… the frightening struggle against his blood thirst, then reluctant surrender… Unspeakably strange feeling. Lying there with his fangs impaling her, a piercing clamp on her throat. Yet the pain was bearable, pure and sharp like diamond, even heightening her pleasure. So weird, to give her blood as an extension of their sexual bliss. A bond between them. Cruel, unequal and unhealthy… yet a bond, all the same.

  “I can’t give him up,” Robyn said. “And I hate him for that.”

  “Hate him?” Alice’s face opened up with surprise.

  “Yes, you know, for getting under my defences. I have to figure out my revenge, because he has no reputation to lose and doesn’t give a damn about money. So until I think of something, I’m going to enjoy myself. Use him the way he thinks he’s using me.”

  “You’re crazy. You have to stop!” Alice seized Robyn and actually shook her. “Don’t you realise he’s probably murdered people?” Her voice fell. “There was a housemaid found dead in Marlborough Street, a young man dragged out of the river…”

  “That’s speculation,” Robyn said, but cold gooseflesh ran over her.

  “He should be jailed. He should hang. I’m going to tell someone.”

  “Who?” Robyn cried. “No one will believe you. Alice, please. Don’t interfere.”

  Alice’s usually serene face was hard.

  “And what about your responsibilities to the people in this household? Not just to Mary and me and Mr and Mrs Wilkes, but to yourself. What would we do if anything happened to you? How d’you think we’d feel? Or your Uncle Josef?”

  “Stop!” Robyn lifted her hands in exasperation, her mother’s gesture. “Stop worrying. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

  * * *

  Idyllic as America had been, Karl was happy to come home. He’d missed the crisp whiteness of the mountains. As he and Charlotte climbed the steep path to their chalet, the air was like cold wine infused with scents of peat and pine trees.

  Violette had returned to Salzburg with her company. Karl was glad to have Charlotte to himself again. But as they reached the front door, they paused to look at each other.

  “There’s someone inside,” said Charlotte.

  Entering Raqia, they melted through doors and walls and emerged into the drawing room. A fire burned in the grate, and two blond figures were lounging on a sofa. Stefan was sitting up, Niklas lying down with his head on his twin’s lap, while Stefan absently stroked his hair.

  Seeing Karl and Charlotte, Stefan pushed Niklas aside and leapt to his feet. Niklas rose beside him like a delayed reflection.

  “I’ve been waiting days for you!” Stefan exclaimed. “I thought you’d be home by now.”

  “What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked, placing her coat on a chair.

  Stefan rarely let anything perturb him, but his sky-blue eyes were anxious. “We had visitors in London. Cesare, with a couple of underlings. He’s changed, Karl. He thinks he’s the new Kristian and he’s taking the part rather seriously.”

  Karl’s heart sank. He thought, Could we not have had a few minutes’ peace before this began?

  “What happened
?”

  “He’s summoning all vampires to Schloss Holdenstein. He has something very important and exciting to announce: a crusade against Lilith. But here’s the rub: anyone who refuses to join in will be considered an enemy, Lilith’s minion.” Stefan paced around the room, trailing his hand across Niklas’s shoulder as he passed. Karl had rarely seen him so agitated.

  “Surely he didn’t frighten you?” Karl asked.

  “Oh, but he did!” Stefan looked at Charlotte. “You didn’t know Cesare in the old days. So quiet, he was like a piece of Kristian’s medieval furniture.”

  “He would make excellent firewood,” Karl said darkly.

  “I can’t explain, but he’s acquired power. He threatened us, and he meant it.”

  “But you dislike Violette anyway,” Charlotte said thinly. “Why would Cesare think you were on her side?”

  “I don’t dislike her.” Stefan paced to the fireplace and back. “She makes me uneasy, but that’s beside the point. The thing is this, and I beg you to take me seriously. Cesare’s dangerous, and he’s on the march. And I’ve had enough. Kristian, Simon, Lilith, Lancelyn – how many more would-be tyrants must we suffer?”

  “I feel the same,” said Karl. “I suspected we’d have someone like Cesare to deal with before long.”

  “Well, you can deal with him,” said Stefan. “You’re on your own.”

  Karl looked hard at him. Stefan stopped pacing.

  “I don’t wish to fight anyone,” said Karl, “but if it’s necessary – are you saying you won’t help us?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Cesare’s gathering an army. He’ll become an immortal dictator and it will be, ‘Follow me or die!’ We can’t stop him without creating an army of our own. What’s the alternative? If we plunge in unarmed, we’ll be overwhelmed and killed. No, thank you. I came to warn you – and to say goodbye.”

  “No!” Charlotte exclaimed. “Where will you go?”

  “That would be telling. I wouldn’t like to think of Cesare torturing my hiding place out of you.”

  Stefan’s vivid eyes burned into Karl’s. He found it difficult ever to be angry with Stefan, but this time Karl felt betrayed. “So, you’re disappearing?”