It stretched out a glowing arm and said, “Help me.” A heavy accent, perhaps Russian. “Help me.”
A trap? Charlotte approached cautiously, all her senses poised. She knew this creature… Through the glare, she made out a narrow face and long silver-white wisps of hair.
“Who are you?” she said.
“Fyodor,” said the hoarse voice. “You know me, Charlotte, friend of Lilith.”
So it was him! She remained out of reach, suspicious. Fyodor: lover of Simon, enemy of Violette.
“Help me,” he said again. “So weak. Took all my strength to find you.”
Reluctantly, she gave him her hand. She was ready for treachery, but he only leaned on her, rose and collapsed onto the bed. His glow faded as if sinking back into his pores, leaving his flesh so white that hers was golden-pink by contrast. His white shirt and cream-coloured flannels were rags. Bloodless and emaciated, he resembled a blue-veined albino ravaged by addiction. The vampire she remembered, full of arrogant mirth, was gone.
“What do you want?”
“To talk. You created Lilith, so listen to me.”
“Are your companions with you?” she said harshly. “Are you planning to kidnap Violette again? Why can’t you leave her in peace?”
Fyodor held up his hands. “I’m alone. The trinity is broken. You could drain my blood, break my neck and throw me to the hounds of hell, Charlotte, if you wished. Since Simon left us, I have no strength.”
She sat on the bed, arms folded.
“Do you expect sympathy? My God, you should kiss Violette’s feet and beg forgiveness for the way you treated her!”
Rage glinted in Fyodor’s eyes, a silver lash. “Love is blind,” he said. “You are in love with a serpent, but a serpent can’t feel love. It can only bite. We obeyed God’s will!”
“When you half-killed us, coerced Violette into nearly being raped by Lancelyn – that was God’s will?” Charlotte said bitterly. “What a charming God you serve.”
His head tipped listlessly to one side. “I agree. That so-charming God abandoned us. You are so young, Charlotte, a baby in vampire terms, but Simon, Rasmila and I are very old. The older we grow, the closer to the Crystal Ring we become, too confident of our powers. That’s when the Ring moulds us to its own designs. We become what it wants: angels, devils, gods. And when it’s finished with us, it spits us out. Raqia has a use for Simon again, but no use for me.”
“Oh,” Charlotte breathed. Energy filled her, a revelation. “That’s what I believe, too. God didn’t make the Crystal Ring; it’s the Ring that creates gods! And you’ve found this out at last? You’ve lost your faith.”
His silvery face creased with pain. “And loss of faith is our punishment. It hit Simon hardest. I could accept it, be a simple vampire again, with no reason for my existence except nature’s caprice. But Simon can’t let go. He needs power and influence, but he can’t use Rasmila and me any longer, so he fastens onto someone new.”
“Cesare,” said Charlotte. “I know.”
Fyodor sneered. “Cesare isn’t enough for him. Simon still needs me but won’t admit it.” He touched her thigh, and the touch tingled unpleasantly. “I don’t care about Lilith or Cesare. I want Simon back, that’s all. I want Simon.”
Charlotte moved out of reach, almost laughing. Lovesick, this poor creature. Simply lovesick. “What do you think I can do about it?”
Fyodor sat up, long milky hair hanging down to his lap. He was frail, androgynous, not the exuberant creature she remembered. “You are keeping him from me, you and Karl!”
“No, we’re not,” she said. “I gave Simon no encouragement. He tried to use us, that’s all. That’s not love. He has no soul. He’s empty, and emptiness breeds mischief.”
Fyodor appeared not to take offence at her judgement. “Simon gave you his blood,” he said quietly. “Didn’t that make you adore him?”
“No. I wish he would take you back and leave us alone.”
Fyodor seized her hand, making her start. “Then come and fetch Karl!”
“What?” Waves of fear shivered over her.
“They’re holding Karl at Schloss Holdenstein.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when you arrived?” Charlotte was on her feet, distraught. “We’re wasting time!”
She was out of the apartment and running downstairs, not waiting for an answer. The scent of singed timber rose, choking her. On the landing, she met Violette running up from a lower floor, as if she’d heard Charlotte’s cry.
Charlotte rushed back up to the apartment, Violette following, only to find that Fyodor had vanished.
“He was here,” Charlotte said. “Fyodor. He said they’re keeping Karl prisoner at Holdenstein. We must get him out!”
Violette was unmoved. “No, Charlotte. It’s a trap.”
“So? If Karl’s in danger, I have to help him. Will you come with me?”
She was about to step into Raqia, but Violette said, “No.”
Charlotte stared, incredulous. “You’re refusing to help Karl? But he went there for your sake!”
“It’s a trap,” Violette repeated, “and if you’ve any sense, you won’t fall for it.”
Charlotte was floored.
“Don’t you care? I know you and Karl don’t get on, but what does it matter? After all we’ve done to help you, despite receiving nothing but threats in return? Maybe Cesare and the others are right about you. I’m the one who’s blind, not them.”
She couldn’t look at Violette, couldn’t bear her glacial eyes and heartless words. Furious, betrayed, but dry-eyed, Charlotte turned away and arrowed into the Crystal Ring.
* * *
John had wanted to lock Karl in a cell and torture him, but Simon, disgusted, wouldn’t hear of it.
“You don’t know Karl as I do,” said Simon. “He’s not one of your ox-headed young men. We’ll win him only by affection and reason, not cruelty.
But it was torment, Simon mused, to treat Karl as they had. After Simon drained his blood, they took him to the meeting chamber and sat him on a low chair, with John on hand to prevent any escape attempts. They kept him there for hours, starving.
Few things caused more agony to a vampire than blood-deprivation. Yet Karl bore the ordeal with extraordinary composure. Simon was impressed.
Torchlight made the stone walls appear bathed in sweat. John stood guard beside Karl, while Cesare paced in front of him, expounding his beliefs with enough force to bring anyone, mortal or vampire, to his knees. Simon quietly watched.
The bliss of stealing Karl’s blood had whetted his passion. Simon was in love. He knew now the mystery that made everyone love Karl. He saw why even Kristian had lost all common sense over him. The secret was distilled in Karl’s beauty: a poet’s face, amber eyes like fire captured within the shadows of his brows and lashes. He was like a panther, caged without losing one mote of dignity.
Oh, why did you refuse me? Simon thought. What a leader you would have made! Cesare will do – oh, but you with Cesare’s vision, Karl! What perfection that would be. I’m truly sorry for causing this pain but I can’t help myself…
Simon’s fingers played on the chair a hair’s breadth from Karl’s arm. Karl ignored him.
Then Cesare brought in the humans. Handsome recruits, with bronzed skin and blue eyes. Their tans were fading. A long time would pass before they saw the sun again.
Simon felt Karl tense as the mortals were paraded in small groups. Simon’s own fangs ached and his body yearned towards their moist heat. How much worse it must be for his captive! But Karl remained immobile, expressionless.
“Are they not magnificent?” Cesare said. “What glorious immortals they will make! You don’t begrudge them eternal life, surely?”
“They will turn against you,” said Karl, “as Kristian’s children turned on him.”
“Never,” said Cesare, “because I rely not on vague hopes of love, but on sure foundations of discipline. They are mine already, through life,
death and eternity.”
“Are they to have no thoughts of their own?” Karl’s voice was steady but tense with thirst.
“What thoughts could they have that are better than mine?” Cesare asked. “Your misguided obsession with freedom leads to depravity and anarchy, the dark path to Lilith’s domain.”
“They’ll begin to age unless you transform them soon.”
“The time of transformation is mine to decide.” Cesare looked reprovingly at Simon. “You haven’t weakened him enough. He hopes to discover our plans. But it wouldn’t matter, Karl, if you knew the time of initiation to the minute: you can’t stop us.”
“And it won’t matter if you keep me here for a hundred years,” Karl said flatly. “You will never persuade me to your cause.”
“Will this not persuade you?” More human males came in, bowed, walked away. Delicious blood-heat wafted from them. “Or this?” Another group. “Or this?”
Two vampires marched in, holding between them an exquisite young woman with dishevelled russet hair. She was afire with indignation.
Charlotte.
That, Simon noted with satisfaction, made Karl react.
* * *
When Charlotte saw Karl seated between John and Simon, his face gaunt with blood-loss, she broke free of her captors and ran towards him. John stepped forward and stopped her. It was like hitting an iron gate.
John’s grotesque appearance shocked her. His hands on her arms were thick and powerful, like snakes. But it was the emanation of his soul that horrified most; there was nothing in his eyes, nothing but hellfire.
She could have fled into Raqia, but escaping would not help Karl.
No sign of Fyodor. She wondered, Was he sent by Simon to trick me here? Not that it mattered now.
“Karl, have they hurt you?” she said.
“You shouldn’t have come, Charlotte.” Karl glared at Simon, who waved John aside and let Karl go to her.
“How could I not?”
“But now they have us both prisoner. What does that achieve?” He stroked her arms, his expression as sombre as death. And Charlotte knew – as if she’d never believed it before – that she and Karl were not invulnerable, that Cesare’s powers were real. The new order forming within the castle walls would roll onwards, an iron-wheeled leviathan.
“It achieves this,” said Simon. “Time for you both to think. Time to accept that you can either join us or die. What holds you back? Pride? But a vampire’s greatest priority is survival. And then… love.”
Simon came too close, put one hand on Karl’s shoulder, stroked Charlotte’s cheek. She wanted to feel disgust, but instead she felt soporific. On the edge of surrender again.
She wondered if Cesare was jealous, as Fyodor had been.
“Did my blood call to yours, after all?” Simon asked, smiling.
“No. Your white-haired friend came and said you had Karl here.”
“As I intended. Good.”
“Let Karl go! I’ll do anything, put myself in his place…”
“But we want you both.” Simon’s tone became persuasive. “I won’t impose unreasonable conditions. You won’t be separated or enslaved. No, you’ll be treated as gods by our followers, like Cesare and myself. All we ask is that you listen. Is it really so wonderful to be out in the cold with only Lilith for company, when you could be with us, warm and loved and safe?”
Charlotte pressed her palm to her forehead, recalling Violette’s refusal to help rescue Karl.
“What is it, liebling?” Karl asked, but she shook her head.
“Nothing. All of this.” But she thought, Maybe Simon’s right. Violette is a monster. I’ve always known. She cares nothing for Karl or me. Why go on defending her, when we may be killed for our efforts?
“May I speak to Karl alone?” she asked.
“As you wish,” Cesare said graciously.
She and Karl went to a corner behind the ebony throne. She put her mouth by his ear, whispering so faintly that even vampires would not overhear.
“What if we appear to do what Simon wants? Pretend we’re on his side, then seduce him away from Cesare?”
“No,” said Karl.
“It could be our only chance. Win some time, set them against each other…”
Karl hugged her close. “You’re probably right, but I can’t. Yes, it worked with Kristian; I pretended to love him in order to betray him – and that’s why I cannot do so again. It leaves a stain in the soul… And I can’t watch you do that, either.”
Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, ashamed that she’d asked. “Either we prostitute ourselves, or we die.”
“Not yet,” he whispered. “We’re too precious to Simon for him to dispose of us easily. If we stay, at least we may subvert others to our cause –”
“Enough,” came Cesare’s sharp voice. “How went the fire, Charlotte?”
“No one died,” she said, turning to him. “Hard luck.”
“I didn’t intend anyone to die. It was a warning, as Violette knows.”
“What else will you do to her?”
“Anything, everything. Whatever it takes. Simon insists she cannot be destroyed. But I say she must be contained. And one day she’ll wither and die of self-loathing.”
Charlotte took a breath. “Look, we can’t escape, and Simon doesn’t want us ill-treated. Couldn’t you let Karl feed?”
“I could,” said Cesare. “But not until he’s expressed contrition and willingness to co-operate.”
Charlotte looked at Karl. However well he hid it, she knew he was in anguish.
“This is inhuman!” she cried. Simon broke into laughter.
“No, it’s simple,” Cesare said serenely. “You can be tortured until Karl surrenders, and vice versa. John will find it no trouble: torture is his vocation. Or you could give in now, which would be less fun for John but easier for the rest of us.”
Karl embraced Charlotte protectively, his face in her hair.
“Leave, while you can,” he said.
“Not without you!”
Simon came and took Charlotte’s hand. Karl glared icily at him, but as Simon drew Charlotte away, John seized Karl. Separated, they were bundled to the centre of the chamber. Charlotte was aware of Karl struggling, but he was powerless to prevent Simon putting his fangs to her neck.
“It’s over,” Simon murmured. “You’re angry now, but in time… We’ll be angels together, Charlotte.” His fangs were icicles pressing her throat. “Am I not as beautiful as Karl? Can you love me?”
“A bottle of poison wrapped in beautiful paper looks like a desirable gift,” she said. “But it’s still poison.”
His arms tightened savagely. She closed her eyes, waiting for him to strike, but the pain didn’t come. He paused; then his mouth left her throat, and he looked up.
Charlotte felt the air tremble and the temperature drop.
The sound began like wind groaning around the castle. And then the air was full of wings, beating at the air unseen. She froze in dread, as if all Kristian’s victims had stepped out of the walls to take revenge…
Everyone was looking around, eyes glazed with alarm; Cesare, John, Simon, Karl, the unfamiliar vampires – one male, one female – who’d brought Charlotte in. Cries echoed from other parts of the Schloss. More vampires and humans came running in through the archways as if to beseech their leader for reassurance.
The walls shook. A mass of air was displaced as if by some vast primeval beast with ribbed wings. Night fell. Someone screamed.
When torchlight flared again, the female vampire and one of the human males lay dead. The vampire’s head had been severed, still in its hood. The male’s blood had sprayed everywhere.
And Lilith was in the room.
Charlotte’s heart flew in loops. Mortals and vampires were crying out and clinging to each other, while Cesare crossed the chamber towards the ebony throne, stumbling as if he might expire with fury and fear.
The terror Violette inspire
d was tangible, like booming sound waves. Charlotte, though, was not afraid; she was inexplicably part of it. She thought, Violette followed us after all! What else matters?
Simon and John kept their grim hold on her and Karl.
Violette faced Cesare, her jet hair tangled with static, her eyes blue comets. Cesare stepped behind the throne, clinging to the back as if it were a shield. His voice, when he found it, was loud and commanding.
“Surrender to us,” he said, pointing at Karl and Charlotte, “or your friends will suffer.”
Violette blinked. Then she moved so fast that Charlotte hardly saw her, but somehow she had Cesare by the throat and was dragging him from his refuge. His attempts to shake her off were pathetic. His eyes bulged like huge grey pearls.
“On the other hand,” said Violette, glaring at Simon, “let my friends go or Cesare dies. Perhaps you’d like him to die, I don’t know.” She squeezed. Blood oozed between her fingers.
“Do as she says!” Cesare rasped. “Let them go!”
Karl and Charlotte were thrown suddenly together.
Lilith’s wings filled the chamber. She gathered Karl and Charlotte against her, and swept them into the Crystal Ring.
* * *
They had each tried to destroy the other, each tried to win, or at least to end the affair. Hopeless. Robyn and Sebastian remained fastened on each other, gorging on dark sensuality. A horrible and wondrous feeling, like opium addiction, wanton and irresistible.
“I’ll take you away from here,” he whispered, but she only laughed.
Sebastian began to despair of persuading Robyn to leave Boston. He wanted to free her from the chains of her past, her responsibilities, her lovers.
“No, this is my home, I belong here. Why should I move?” she would say, as if she had a choice.
He could not admit the truth: “Other vampires know where you live. I must protect you, keep you to myself.”
If persuasion wouldn’t work, it followed that he must use force. Place her in a position, he thought, where she can’t refuse.
“I can’t see you tonight; don’t come to the house,” she said one evening, but Sebastian went anyway.
He melted through the locked French windows, and found Harold Charrington, dressed up for an evening out, sitting in the parlour on his own. He was in an armchair by the fire, smoking a cigar and looking thoroughly at home.
The Dark Blood of Poppies Page 35
