She wanted to die.
She could see the unhuman quality of him now, so powerfully that she could not understand why she had not realised it before. As he spoke, she watched his mouth, the glint of light on his canine teeth. They seemed normal again, but the vision tormented her; his savagely open mouth and the thorn-cruel fangs… Impossible to grasp. Vampire.
"It's true, isn't it?" she said. "The things Edward said about you. We didn't believe him but he knew, didn't he? Is that why you killed him?"
Karl sat back in the chair, crossing his right knee over the left. "Is he dead? I don't know," he said, with the detached, kindly interest of a doctor.
"You—" She clenched her hands, waited for the spasm of emotion to pass. "Just tell me the truth. You can't make things better by lying, and you certainly can't make them worse."
He did not reply for a moment. He folded his hands. "Very well. Yes, Charlotte, I am a vampire. Does it help you at all to know this?"
"I—I don't know."
"No, because it is only a word. I don't know what associations it has for you, but I doubt they are the same as mine."
She drew her knees up to her chin and hugged them, as if by holding herself very still she would be safe. Not looking at him, she said, "When we were children, Fleur used to frighten Madeleine and me by reading ghost stories to us. There was one about a vampire, called Carmilla, that haunted me for weeks; but it was a long time ago. I don't know how to answer. Everyone's heard folklore, but I've never given it any thought."
"That is strange, for someone who takes a scientific interested in ghosts."
"People do see ghosts, but I never thought vampires were real!" she said angrily.
Karl shook his head and said in a clinical tone, "So anything you think you know is based on fiction and hearsay."
"I know what I saw today! That was worse than any book!"
He did not react. "Well, Carmilla and the other stories are the culmination of myths which may have some basis in reality." He leaned towards her. "So, how do I look to you now? Like a fiend? Or the same as before, the same man to whom you have declared and shown such affection?"
She shrank away. "Don't! Don't torment me."
"I have no wish to torment you, Charlotte." He went over to the grate and cast fresh logs onto the fire. They hissed and popped, showering sparks up the chimney. As he turned round, she huddled back against the carved headboard and his lips thinned, very slightly. "However, it seems that I am unable to avoid doing so."
So cold, he seemed. The tenderness he'd shown her, all a sham; just a brittle shell over a blood-black pit of ice.
"And you don't care," she whispered. "It wouldn't be so bad if you cared, but—God, I can't speak. How could you do this?"
"But this is what vampires are like, don't you see? Utterly selfish. Capable of any lie that will achieve what they want. Capable of any pretence."
"Vampires don't exist! This is some awful delusion you're under," she said helplessly.
"As I said, it's just a word. I do not sleep in a coffin, nor turn to dust in sunlight. But the fact is I am not human, and I need human blood to sustain me. I want to explain what happened to Edward; not to excuse myself, because it is quite irredeemable, but so that you may understand what I am."
" 'O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!' " Charlotte whispered bitterly.
Karl sat down on the corner of the bed, one pale hand curled round the post. " 'More wonderful, when angels are so angry'," he replied. She bowed her head on to her knees, unable to look at him. "And you have every right to be angry, of course. But if you will let me continue; I also have an extreme instinct for self-preservation. I came here with David simply to set his mind at rest about last night—not to harm him. Can you believe that?"
"Hardly, but I'll take your word for it."
"But I made a mistake. In normal circumstances I can control the appetite for blood without conscious effort, but last night I'd had a fight with someone and it left me very weak." He paused, as if unsure whether to elaborate. "Another vampire had drawn all the blood out of me."
She was shocked. Suddenly there were hidden layers of events she had not suspected. "Another? Was it Pierre?"
"He is a vampire, but it wasn't him. It's irrelevant. The point is that when I met David, my thirst was growing almost unbearable… This is disturbing for you."
"You must tell me. I can bear it, as long as it's the truth."
"Impossible to understand the thirst unless you've experienced it; but it can become a delirium beyond which nothing else matters. I knew I had to leave David before it overrode my will. I was leaving, when Edward came to the door. If he had not attacked me, if he'd stood aside—or if I had not been in that trance of extreme thirst—all would have been well. No vampire deliberately betrays himself by feeding in front of mortals; it was my own fault, for underestimating my state of starvation. So the moment he set upon me, my control vanished. Self-preservation, you see; he attacked me, I needed his blood. He did not stand a chance."
A moan escaped her lips. What reply can I make to this horror?
He went on, "I would not have harmed him for anything—but I am a vampire, Charlotte. If human values and morals had a hold on us, we would not survive. I never, if I can help it, prey upon people I know; but don't mistake me. I am not sentimental, nor merciful. If your family persist against me, they may die for it."
"That's vile." She pressed her forehead so hard against her knees that the bones ached. "How can someone so callous have mimicked such tenderness? You must have hypnotised me. Is that what vampires do?"
He paused. "I can't deny that I have betrayed you."
"You only pretended to love me."
She wanted him to deny it. With all her soul she wanted him to deny it. Eventually he said, "Now you see the full extent to which I have deceived you, all under the guise of honesty. You thought I was being honest, admitting I could not marry you?"
"Yes."
"But that was a less-than-white lie to hide a truth far more hideous; I could not marry you because I am not human. I must drink blood to live."
The image hit her like nausea; the passionless yet bestial intensity of his face as he'd lunged down and torn into Edwards' throat… "But you never drank mine."
He looked at her over his shoulder, his profile shimmering against the fire. "No. But I wanted to." She stared at him. "I longed to. You never knew what danger you were in, alone with me. It is stronger than lust and far harder to control. I might have killed you."
"I don't believe it," she said, but she did. Now she knew why he had always seemed to struggle against a deeper need than passion. The way he had sometimes kissed her throat, shuddered, turned his face away… God in heaven.
His gaze shifted away from hers. In the same impersonal voice he said, "Then I had better tell you the very worst of it, which will certainly make you hate me—if you do not already. Vampires do not reproduce, neither with humans nor with each other. Therefore we rarely feel physical desire; but when we do, it is for a very specific purpose. Do you want me to go on?"
She gave a convulsive nod. "I don't follow."
"When a vampire is in continual proximity to a potential victim but resisting the instinct to prey upon them—as I was with you—then sexual desire can develop as a way to break down the intellectual resistance to our instinct to feed. The loss of control in love-making leads almost inevitably to the fulfilment of the real need, which is for blood. Do you see?"
She hunched over the sick ache in her stomach. She felt utterly betrayed, destroyed. "Dear God. To think I was worried I might have a child!"
"I knew there was no danger of that."
"You knew—" Bitterness welled up. "Why did you go to all that trouble? It would have been easier just to—just to do to me what you did to Edward. Why didn't you?"
"I came to your father to gain knowledge, not his family's blood; I do not need to go to such elaborate lengths of finding nourishment." There
was a touch of contempt in his tone. "I never wished you harm. In seducing you my instinct was trying to override a conscious decision. I should have resisted, I should have left you alone—but I did not. I was playing with your life. You don't know how close I came to it, Charlotte; one more night, and I doubt that I could have resisted any longer."
"And I would have died?"
"Our bite is not invariably fatal—but it can cause madness, which perhaps is worse."
"And that's the only reason—not because you loved me—" she choked, unable to go on.
"I was drawn to you, I don't deny it. It was so easy to take advantage of your feelings for me."
"Devil," she whispered. "I loved you."
"How could it be love, when you did not know my real nature? It is a characteristic of vampires to appear enthralling to humans. What you felt for me is only what Madeleine and Elizabeth felt also; a kind of bewitchment." He sat very still as he spoke, and more than ever she had the sense of him as an alien creature, something beyond her comprehension. Misery and anger rushed up, and bitter resentment.
"It's not true. You're saying these things to torture me!"
Karl blinked impassively. "If you think I should wish to torture you, surely it proves that what I am saying is true."
"I suppose you seduced my sister and aunt too, made them believe they meant something to you."
"No. I have never touched either of them."
He did not elaborate, and somehow this statement made the pain worse. She was sinking in confusion. "But you were going to abduct Maddy! Would you have fed on her as you did on Edward, killed David if he'd tried to stop you?"
"I hope it would not have been necessary. But I am quite merciless, when I have to be."
She sat rigid for a few moments. Everything, from their first meeting to this moment, was in her mind at once; every word and look he had given her, all the closeness they had shared; and now this smashed and red-stained mess, and the unbearable pain… "Why did you bother to control it?" she cried. "Why didn't you just kill me? Why don't you do it now?"
She flung herself at him, pulled at his shirt-sleeve—but when he turned to look at her, she froze. That glowing stillness, that beauty so heart-rending it could only be evil; suddenly she saw so clearly what he was that terror sheeted through her like flame.
A line between life and death.
The next she knew she was off the bed and running to the door, wild with the need to escape.
Down the stairs she rushed, only half-aware of the treads slapping painfully against her stockinged soles. In the hall the fire had waned and the lofty desolation seemed to swallow her. She struggled with the front door, found it locked, spun round in a panic and headed for the kitchen. Stumbling over the piles of rubble that the workmen had made, she fought uselessly to open the outside door. Then with no clear idea of where she was going she headed for the cellar.
Blindly she ran across the crypt-like space—where she had seen the shadow-cat, a lifetime ago—bruising her feet, stumbling against the barrels, until she collided with a wall.
The stone was slick with damp and it exhaled the mustiness of age and disuse. She felt it sucking the heat out of her body through the thin material of her skirt and sweater, yet she did not move; she flattened herself against the harsh surface, letting the cold leech away her panic and draw her down into despairing equilibrium.
There were voices whispering in the darkness. She thought something brushed her legs, a cat—or a subterranean draught that seemed to breathe in and out like a living thing. It could not make her any more afraid than she already was. It simply seemed an extension of the blackness that was inside her and she gave herself up to it, almost pleading with it.
"Help me," she mouthed silently. "God help me." She wanted to weep but she could not; tears contained healing and there was nothing to repair the ruin of her soul. After a few moments, she heard the echo of footsteps.
***
"Edward Lees, yes… I see. Thank you." George Neville replaced the mouthpiece on its stalk and turned to the others. "The hospital say he has been given a blood transfusion and is resting."
"But will he live?" David said in agitation.
"It's too soon to say." Dr Neville sank down into an armchair, grey-faced. "They're doing their best."
Anne had joined Elizabeth, Madeleine and the two men in the main drawing room. Shock lay heavy on them. They were seated around like waxworks, isolated yet bound together by tension and dread. A tall police inspector with silver-streaked black hair stood quietly in front of the fireplace. Only David had any life about him, and his restless roaming about the room was beginning to drive Anne mad.
"Charlotte was so brave," said Madeleine. She was curled up small in a chair, her face streaked with tears. "It would have been me. And I was so hateful to her this morning, I shall never forgive myself."
"But why the devil did you do it?" her father said angrily. "Why put yourself and her in such danger?"
"I thought I was doing the right thing!" Madeleine cried. "I thought it was all a mistake, that Karl couldn't have… Don't shout at me, Father, don't you think I feel bad enough, realising what he's really like?" Her voice trailed off into sobs.
"It's not your fault, Maddy," David said soothingly. "If it's anyone's, it's mine. God, if only I'd listened to Edward at the very beginning! I knew there was something wrong about Karl, I knew and I totally failed to protect my sisters!" He gave Anne a heartfelt glance. "Lord, it could have been any one of you."
George Neville leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "For heaven's sake don't blame yourself, David. I'm the one who took him on. He seemed so plausible—to think of the times I left Charlotte alone with him!" He sat back, pressing a handkerchief to his shiny forehead. "If I could turn back time—if any harm comes to her—" He broke off. Anne's heart ached for him. He so rarely showed his emotions.
"This is all too incredible," Elizabeth said sharply. She stubbed out a half-smoked cigarette in a glass ashtray, then promptly lit another. "Has everyone in this family gone completely mad? There are no such things as—" She stopped, to Anne's relief. They had all agreed not to say the word "vampire" in the hearing of the police. If they portrayed Karl as anything more than a dangerous criminal, they risked branding themselves as cranks—and having Charlotte's plight taken less seriously.
"It doesn't matter what we call him," said David. "What he's done is real enough."
"Unbelievable," Elizabeth said contemptuously. But she sat forward over her knees, her long back as taut and gaunt as a dancer's. The ashtray beside her was full of long white stubs.
"I suppose you'd prefer it if he had taken me," said Madeleine.
"How can you say that?" gasped Dr Neville.
"Father, it's no secret that you've always loved Charlotte best, because she's perfect and I'm not!"
"Do stop it, dear," said Elizabeth. "We're all upset and carrying on like that won't help anyone. I should have realised about Karl. God knows, I was never easy on Charlotte—but I did it for her own good. It's a hard world and she had to learn how to live in it. I never meant it maliciously, she knows that." And she ground out the new cigarette as if trying to crush it to death.
"At least Edward's hanging on," David sighed. He sat down on the arm of Madeleine's chair and hugged her. "But if anything happens to him or Charlotte, I shall not be answerable for what happens to Karl von Wultendorf."
"It's in our hands now, sir," said the inspector, implying, Anne thought, "So don't consider taking it into your own."
"We have the house surrounded and there is no way he can get out without us knowing."
"Just be damned careful," Dr Neville said. "If he sees a bevy of policemen round the house, Lord knows what he might do."
The inspector replied in a level voice, "We shall do nothing to endanger your daughter's life, sir, believe me."
"We know that, Inspector Ash," said David. "Right. Now I know how Edward is, I'm going back up to
the manor. I won't rest until Charlotte's free. Shall we go?" He indicated for Inspector Ash to precede him to the door, nodding to Anne as he left. Anne didn't follow him. They had argued earlier, because David had insisted it was too dangerous. So much for the modern man, she thought. I’ll wait a while and join him later, then he won't be able to stop me. I'm damned if I'll sit about chainsmoking and blaming myself when I could be doing something to help Charli! If only they knew how they all sounded! Is this what it takes to make them realise they love Charli after all?
But Madeleine looked so wretched, Anne felt only sympathy for her. She went and knelt by Madeleine's chair and said, "How are you bearing up?"
Elizabeth and Dr Neville were in the doorway, talking to Newland. Madeleine glanced at them and then down at Anne, eyes brimming with some unspoken burden. "I saw such awful things when I was ill, Anne. I thought I was in a tomb, that I was actually dead."
Anne was taken aback. "It must have been a nightmare."
"But I was wide awake! I was seeing things. I know that now."
"You must have been feverish."
"I don't know. I thought it was real. I had this idea that only Karl could save me. He was all I could think about. I saw his eyes everywhere. The frightening, the really frightening thing is that I felt as if I were perfectly sane. I thought I knew what I was doing. In the manor, I thought that if I helped Karl, he would love me. When he grabbed my wrist—" she took Anne's wrist, unconsciously digging in her fingernails—"I suddenly saw what he was. He'd never loved me. He couldn't, because he was evil. It was as if someone had taken a blindfold off me. Am I making any sense?"
"I think so."
"Don't humour me. I don't know if I'm crazy or not. But I knew just how poor Edward must have felt when he made such a fuss at my party." Her mouth turned down at the corners and she wept noiselessly. "I've been so stupid and cruel to Charlotte… because she's under his spell too and it's not her fault."
***
A Taste of Blood Wine Page 22
