A sudden circle of light splayed across the wall in front of her. Anne was coming down the steps with a lamp. And where the light fell she saw the cat again; just a shadow walking with nothing to cast it.
Charlotte felt Anne approaching, but she didn’t look round. As the light brightened the cat vanished and the torch beam glistened on stacks of barrels and wine jars crusted with dirt.
“There isn’t a cat, Anne,” she said. “It’s a ghost. I used to see it when we came here years ago. We always used to see the shadow but never the cat. I wanted to see if it was still here.”
Then she looked round and found not Anne behind her, but Karl. She jumped violently and stepped away, heart pounding with shock.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. The torchlight lit red sparks in his dark mass of hair, and his eyes were amber glass flecked with gold.
“You frightened the life out of me!” she exclaimed.
“I apologise. I thought you knew I was there.” But his lips elongated with a trace of amusement and she thought he was mocking her. She held herself rigidly away from him. It was strange to see him in everyday clothes, a suit and a dark coat and hat, though he looked no less elegant. It was as though he would be at ease in anything he wore, like a slender hand in a black silk glove.
“Where’s Anne?” she asked, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
“In the kitchen,” he said, as if to say, It’s all right, I have not murdered her. “David has been showing me round the estate and he invited me to see the house. We saw your horses outside. Anne seemed a little worried about you being down here and David had a torch, so I offered to bring it to you.”
She became aware of voices upstairs and realised that it was Anne and David talking. She let go of the breath she had been holding. “Oh, I see.” How do I escape?
“What was it you were saying about ghosts?” He offered her the torch and as she took it his fingertips brushed her palm, cool as satin. The touch sent shocks racing along her nerves. She recoiled inwardly. He raised more fear in her than any ghost. One thing saved her from appearing a complete stammering fool; she recalled what they were to be to each other. Colleagues in research.
“Did you see the cat?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then you can’t tell me ghosts don’t exist.” She spoke sharply, not giving him another chance to laugh at her. She went to the far wall, picking her way through debris and scampering shadows.
“I was not going to. I believe that people see things.”
“Have you thought what a ghost might be?” She spread her fingers on the wall, feeling the granular texture pricking her skin. “Perhaps not a soul who can’t find rest, but an image we can call back. This stone is full of crystals. Some crystals have electrical and magnetic fields, and they vibrate in response to a stimulus. What if they could absorb certain wavelengths and produce them again when disturbed—by the light through the door, for example? Every time the light falls in here, each individual crystal is stimulated to give back photons in a particular pattern—and we think we see a cat.”
Karl had followed her. He was looking at her as if he had never seen her before, and he no longer looked remotely amused.
“A cat that has not hunted here for hundreds of years. It is an interesting theory,” he said. “But why should the crystals pick up that particular image and not another? Why no nervous rats?”
She smiled. She had forgotten to be selfconscious. “Perhaps it wasn’t a cat, just our eyes trying to make sense of a cloud of energy. Or it may be that certain events produce enough energy to register in the crystal structure. Or I might be talking nonsense, because ghosts are more than visual.”
“Yes, they are emotional,” said Karl. “Do you see others?”
“My mother; but it’s different, I feel her more than see her… ” she stopped. It was becoming too personal. “I mean, there is some reaction between the human mind and a certain place. Thoughts are only another kind of energy. Do you think it sounds completely unscientific?”
“I think,” said Karl, “that we should go back upstairs.” His expression brought her unease crawling back. Far from condescending to her, his eyes were intent upon her yet inwardly distracted, as if she had said something to disturb him. “I should like to talk about this, but it is very cold down here. You are shivering. Would you like my coat around your shoulders?”
***
Karl was used to women—men, too—being drawn to him and becoming infatuated. He took it for granted, disregarded it. It was not him they were seeing but an outward shape, an arrangement of lines and planes and light that for some reason struck the eye as beauty. And more than that, they were touched by a vampire glamour, the subconscious recognition of something intangibly alien; the lure that brought his prey to him, even if he chose not to take advantage. The vivacity of Madeleine and Elizabeth was pleasant, mesmerising, yet at the same time he regarded the rapt attention they paid him with cynicism.
But Charlotte was different. She rarely met his eyes, she was abrupt and so withdrawn that her presence had so far made hardly any impression on him at all. She was a colourless creature, hiding within a shell, camouflaged against the rocks.
Yet when she said, “Have you thought what a ghost might be?” Karl began to notice her for the first time. She had the beguiling look of an actress on film; too great a contrast between the darkness that rimmed her large eyes and the pallor of her skin, as if she were permanently tired; an expression of solemn vulnerability. Her hair, a mixture of russet and gold, was not cut short but coiled at the nape of her neck, as if she were either unconscious of fashion or deliberately defiant of it.
And she was a paradox. She shied away from people, even those who offered no harm; yet she walked boldly through a dark place that would make even the most sensible people hesitate. She spoke of ghosts not with a shiver but with analytical, open curiosity.
Only once she smiled, there in the darkness, as if unaware of her surroundings. And the smile transformed her face into pearl and gold, as if she had walked into the sun.
He was in no position to dismiss the supernatural, even if he had no explanation. He had felt the heavy, stinging chill of the cellar and had consciously desired to leave it.
But Charlotte refused the offer of his coat around her shoulders. Like a delicate sea creature drawing in its tentacles she folded herself away, said nothing as they mounted the stairs. And in the kitchen she went straight to Anne and David, almost physically hiding behind them.
They talked about the ghostly cat but it was a joke now. Karl liked the way the English made a joke of everything. Then David pulled his watch out of his waistcoat and said, “Good Lord, is that the time? I have to drive Edward back to London; his family are expecting him at two. Annie, you and Charlotte carry on with your ride while I take Karl back to Parkland. I’ll telephone later.”
Anne pulled a face at him. “I hope I shall see more of you than this when we’re married!”
David embraced her and whispered in her ear, making her laugh. Charlotte stood apart, self-contained, uneasy. There were few people who could not be put at ease by friendly questions, but when Karl went to her, all he drew from her were monosyllables. She had withdrawn the fragile tendrils of communication that she had extended in the cellar. Her eyes, her voice, her self; she would give him nothing. She was wishing herself elsewhere. Sadly he let her be and a moment later she was gone from him physically as well.
***
Edward was subdued but listless in the Bentley. His face was wax-grey with exhaustion and he chainsmoked nervously throughout the journey, compressing the cigarettes between shaking fingers.
“Those damned sedatives leave you with a hell of a hangover,” he said, trying to make light of it. “It’s a swine, having the morning after without the night before.”
“I’m sorry you had such a rotten time,” said David.
“No, I should apologise. Didn’t mean to embarr
ass you like that, but I couldn’t—couldn’t—” He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to his colourless forehead.
“It’s all right, old man. It’s all forgotten now.” David took one hand off the wheel and patted Edward’s shoulder. “But I do think you should see your doctor as soon as you get home. In fact I’m going to make sure you do.”
“There’s no need.”
“I insist, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t need the bloody head-doctor, damn you!” Edward sighed and slumped back in his seat. “Sorry. Sorry.”
“I’m doing it for purely selfish reasons,” David said, pretending to be offhand. “I need you fit to start work with me as soon as possible. There’s a hell of a lot of work to do on that old house, never mind taking over the estate.”
“I know that. I won’t let you down.” Edward lit a new cigarette, wound down the window and let the dead stub tumble away on the wind. “I’m not mad, David.”
“I know that.”
“But you don’t! You’re just like all the others, ‘Poor Edward, such a tragedy, be nice to him because he was such a hero but now he’s quite barmy.’ You don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand?”
“I am not mad. Last night isn’t forgotten, and I can’t take back what I said.”
David glanced at him, mildly alarmed. He had hoped that Edward’s delusion had been momentary. “Steady on—”
“No.” Edward’s voice was tight but calm. “You know I have these feelings about people sometimes. I don’t want them, I can’t explain them, but haven’t they always proved right? I’m not hysterical. Look.” He lifted a hand off his knee and held it level. “Trembling a bit but I’m as normal as I’ll ever be, in the cold light of day. I will say it again. It’s nothing to do with the War or my—my troubles. Karl von Wultendorf is—” He gave a shake of his head. “It does sound too crazy, doesn’t it? But I’m deadly serious, old man. Whatever he is, he’s dangerous. Please watch out for your family, David, before it’s too late.”
* * *
Chapter Five
Touching the Light
Karl could step into a dimension that lay aslant from the corporeal world and move through a whirling landscape in which light seemed solid and rock ran like liquid. Through the Crystal Ring he travelled to distant parts of the country—to a different place each time—to step out of nothingness and feed on some stranger whose face and life meant nothing to him. Then he would vanish again and return to Cambridge, to masquerade as a human being before the kindly, unsuspecting Nevilles. He had not anticipated the pleasure he found in working with them and talking with them, absorbing knowledge and ideas with a thirst almost as great as the need for blood. Another kind of vampirism. And they gave so much, so willingly.
Soon after Karl arrived in Cambridge, Dr Neville showed him round the city, and Karl drank in its grandeur and beauty with a delight that felt like love. It was almost like being human again. Neville took him into Trinity College Chapel, and there Karl stood gazing at the great statues of Newton and Tennyson and Bacon, timeless in the sombre grey light.
You are dead, but in your effigies you are preserved forever, larger than life, he thought. My flesh is as unyielding as your marble, but I still move and see and think… Different kinds of immortality. Yet acid would eat you, cold would crack your substance…
“We come to chapel regularly,” Dr Neville was saying. “You are welcome to come with us, naturally.”
“Thank you, but I would rather not,” Karl replied. “I am not a church-goer.”
Dr Neville looked shocked, but recovered himself quickly. “Oh. Well, no obligation to come if you don’t want to.”
“Do scientists still believe in God, in these days?”
“I can’t speak for the others, but I’ve no time for this intellectual fashion of questioning His existence. There is more in this universe than science can account for, believe me.”
“That is certainly true,” said Karl.
“The very fact that nature works according to the laws of pure mathematics, and that our brains are capable of understanding those laws, indicates that there must be a mind behind everything. As Einstein puts it, the only incomprehensible thing about the universe is that it is comprehensible.”
“But perhaps we comprehend the world as it is, because if it were any different we would not be here to see it.”
Dr Neville gave Karl a shrewd look, amused but sharp. “Not a blasted atheist, are you?”
“I was brought up as a Catholic,” said Karl, “but now I could only describe myself as an agnostic.”
“Can’t make your mind up, eh?”
“Let us say I prefer to keep an open mind.” Karl smiled. “And do you also believe in the Devil, sir?”
George Neville snorted. “Not the sort with horns and a tail. But yes, I definitely believe in the power of evil.”
Karl moved away from him, looking through the screens into the main body of the chapel. It was stately and hushed, seeming in its simple dignity more spiritual than any cathedral.
There is no unseen barrier that bars me from entering a sacred place, he thought. I could walk up the aisle and lay my hands on the altar without harm. Crucifixes do not burn me. I can walk in daylight. What kind of God would have created a being such as me? If I came here and worshipped, would it be Kristian’s God who heard my prayers? I think not. It would be a just God who would not tolerate such a demon in His house… and since I am tolerated, it follows that He does not exist. And that vengeful God of Kristian’s who visits vampires on mankind as a plague? Should I worship Him, although He exists only in Kristian’s mind?
They went out into Trinity’s Great Court, where sunlight gleamed on golden-beige stone and moisture glittered on the wide expanses of grass.
“Even if science finds all the answers,” Dr Neville went on as they walked, “it would not prove that God does not exist. On the contrary, if we ever achieve the ultimate object of our search, the grand unifying principle of nature, it might prove that He does. But we are very far from it. I hold that the chief achievement of physics in this century is not the theory of relativity or quantum theory, but the recognition that we are still not in touch with ultimate reality. Ah, to find one sweeping theory that encompasses everything… “
Karl was thoughtful, reflecting on how vast Dr Neville’s ambition was… and yet how blinkered. There is a whole dimension and layer of existence of which you know nothing! He said, “How could there ever be a grand unifying principle, when there exist creatures in this world that defy the laws of nature?”
“What creatures?”
Karl knew he should not have broached the subject, but the physicist’s complacency goaded him. “I speak hypothetically, of course; but suppose there were beings that could see things that are meant to be invisible. The wind, and the magnetic fields of the earth.”
Dr Neville looked puzzled, but rose to the challenge. “First I would question what it is that they think they can actually see. We may think we can see the wind, but in fact we are only seeing certain indicators; clouds moving, trees leaning in a certain direction, debris flying through the air. An artists knows all the tricks to use to paint the invisible, so we can look at a landscape and say, ‘Can’t you just see the wind?’ Likewise, if you scatter iron filings in the field of a magnet, the patterns you see are not the actual lines of force but only the indicator of where they are.”
“That is the viewpoint of human experience,” said Karl. “Yet what if there were a being outside your experience, that could actually perceive the atmosphere as dense enough to touch? Suppose I could see shape and colour in it; that I could walk upon it, as a man walks across hills. And suppose the magnetism of the earth also became tangible to me so that I could navigate by it as I walked on the wind. How could the laws of physics explain such a change in nature?”
“Ah. If such a creature could be proved to exist, by theory or experiment, I would questio
n whether it was the world that had changed, or your perception of it. An observer on the ground might notice that it was what had changed—that your body had become thinner and lighter than air, so much so that air seemed solid to you. And perhaps this ratified form is deflected by magnetism, as atomic particles are.”
Karl was pleasantly surprised that Dr Neville had not dismissed his apparently bizarre question. “Yet I do not in turn see the observer as a proportionately dense and solid body, but rather as a gathering of light and heat. Of energy.”
Dr Neville was filling his pipe as they walked. “Well, that is akin to the paradox of relativity. A pilot flying his plane at close to the speed of light, lying flat in the line of flight, would appear to observers on the ground to have become a dwarf. Yet if he looks in a mirror in the cockpit, he sees no change in his own appearance; to him, it’s the folk on the ground who look flattened out.”
Karl was amused. “So, perhaps this impossible situation could be explained by relativity after all.”
“My dear fellow, everything is a question of relativity. There is nothing in the universe that is not happening or moving in relation to everything else.” Dr Neville paused to light the pipe, puffing out haloes of smoke. “We are hanging by our feet from a globe that is falling around the sun at twenty miles a second. Meanwhile the sun is moving away from its fellow stars—or are they moving away from us?—while the entire solar system is rushing all of a piece through empty space. It’s enough to make one reach for the brandy… Why are you smiling?”
“Because you answered my question without seeming to think it at all strange.”
“I’m not sure if that is a virtue or a weakness,” said Dr Neville. “The more bizarre a problem is, the more it engages my imagination. But I haven’t answered it, by the way; doubtless the more I thought about it, the further I would be from an answer.”
Karl said quietly, “My experience, exactly.”
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