A Taste of Blood Wine

by Freda Warrington

  The creature stood marble-rigid, vapour flowing over its shoulders in a silent white-blue waterfall. Its clothes crackled with rime.

  Charlotte dropped the last flask on the floor and stared. "Is it dead?" she whispered.

  Karl took her arm. "I think you have paralysed it. Come away, before it recovers. You acted very bravely."

  She obeyed and went back to her father and Anne, who received her and clung to her wordlessly.

  Karl would have to move past the double to take the bayonet from David. If he could just do so before it came to life again… It stood as lifeless as a statue, its hair and eyebrows crusted white. Something compelled him to pause and look into its rigid face. To touch its cheek… something like grief welled up inside him, yet he did not know why.

  Karl touched the being's face, and the skin crackled and shattered under his fingers.

  God, its eyes! They had shrivelled like raisins in the sockets.

  He drew his hand away in shock, then probed at the face again. His own fingers stiffened with the vicious cold, but the face was brittle. The doppelganger was frozen solid, and like a frosted rose its flesh was yielding into dust under the pressure of his hands. David and the others looked on in revulsion; he heard them gasp and protest, but with a kind of fascination Karl went on crushing the head between his hands until the skull creaked and popped and showered onto the floor in shards of glass.

  Then the body crumpled to the floor. He heard the limbs snap like icicles.

  Karl pressed his foot onto its chest. The clothes turned to powder, the ribs caved in. Frost granules spilled from the sleeves where the hands had been.

  Ash. All that was left was a grey and red-stained slush in human shape. And that was curling away into vapour as the liquid gas itself had disappeared. Even Kristian could not regenerate that.

  A long, shocked silence. "God," David breathed at last. "What happened to it?"

  Karl picked up one of the flasks, tipped the last few drops of nitrogen over his own fingers. "Don't even think of it David." He held out his hand to show that his flesh was unharmed. "It won't have the same effect on me. But you still have the bayonet; cut off my head again, and this time cut it and my body into a thousand pieces. Perhaps a thousand vampires would return to haunt you—but I doubt it."

  Glaring acrimoniously at Karl, David placed the bayonet on the bench. "You've won," he said flatly. "You know I can't do it." Then he put his hands to his head. "God, you killed the bloody thing. You and Charlotte."

  Karl stared down at the grisly remains. A sense of horror and pity settled in his chest, clawing at him as if he were human. "I don't think there is much chance of this coming back to life," he said, "but we shall have to dispose of what's left. Would you help me bury it in the garden, David, Dr Neville? If you have the stomach."

  "Yes, all right." David pushed his hair back, swallowing hard. "Not Father, he's been through enough. I'll damned well make Henry help, though."

  ***

  Later, the Nevilles sat in subdued silence in the drawing room, gradually recovering from the shock; Charlotte on the couch between Henry and her father, Anne perched on the arm of David's chair. They had buried the double's remains, cleaned the laboratory, washed and changed; now they sat drinking cups of tea—The English answer to everything, thought Karl with a trace of affection. Henry looked rather green; the others were more resilient. Karl sat apart from them, aware that his presence still made them uncomfortable. But he could not leave them yet.

  Eventually Anne broke the silence. "I don't understand," she said, addressing Karl. "Why should liquid air be fatal to the double, but not to you?"

  Karl answered conversationally, "Apparently the doppelgänger is more fragile than the vampire from which it was created. I don't know why, except that it had no intellect. Perhaps only I, as its progenitor, could destroy it; and I had taken its blood, of course. Another philosophical question for Dr Neville. Does the true source of our energy lie in the mind?"

  He smiled at Anne, but she looked away. No one answered him. Their hostility made him feel sad, but he would not let it distract him from his purpose. He said quietly, "Charlotte, are you feeling better now?"

  Her gaze flashed to him, bright and intense. "Yes, I'm quite well."

  "Then would you come and speak to me—in private?" Before she could answer, Dr Neville sat forward, one hand on Charlotte's arm. "Out of the question!" he growled.

  Charlotte pulled free of her father's grip and stood up. He, David and Henry rose too, trying to protect her again. Karl sympathised with them, but the human barriers between then had become an annoying irrelevance.

  "Please don't make a fuss," Charlotte said determinedly. "I'm going to speak to Karl and there's no point in you trying to stop me."

  "The hell you are!" said David.

  She said calmly, "I'm not a child, David."

  "No, you're a married woman!" Henry put in, but she ignored him.

  "Won't you believe I want to go with him of my own free will? He won't hurt me! Let us have a few minutes, at least."

  "Charli… "

  "You can come and chaperon us if you want! I'm sure you don't mind listening to a private conversation!"

  The three men looked desperate, realising they might as well try to persuade the sun not to set. Charlotte walked over to Karl; when Henry made a last attempt to stop her, Karl gave him a cold glance and he backed away, fear in his eyes.

  Karl had thought they would go into the study, but Charlotte took his hand and was leading him upstairs. "Henry and I have separate rooms," she said. "They won't disturb us. They wouldn't dare."

  A dark room, glowing with rich browns and reds in the afternoon light. Charlotte closed the door behind them and they clutched each other as if they were drowning.

  "I did mean to talk to you," Karl whispered. "Only to talk… "

  "So did I." Her breath was warm against his neck, her skin flushed with nervousness. "Weren't we being unrealistic?"

  ***

  "I just couldn't stop them." David paced about the room. "It's as if I can't do a thing to resist von Wultendorf's will!"

  Trying to calm him, Anne said, "Do you think it's likely Karl is actually going to harm Charlotte?"

  He stood still, leaning on the back of the couch. "Strangely enough, I don't think he is. But how do I know that's not just an idea he's put in my head?"

  "I don't think so, David. Whatever Karl is, I think his feelings for Charlotte are genuine and I'm sure he won't—"

  "But that's the danger, isn't it? He may not hurt her physically, but if the poor girl thinks she's in love with him—God, it's worse, it's much worse!"

  "This is outrageous!" Henry exclaimed. "I'd like to remind everyone that I happen to be her husband!"

  Dr Neville turned on him testily. "Why don't you sort this out, then?"

  Henry subsided, wiping sweat from his forehead with a crumpled handkerchief. Dr Neville patted his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Henry," he said. "Why are we all paralysed? How can we let him just take her away from right under our noses?"

  "Give them an hour," said Anne. "Just one hour. It won't change anything to panic, and if they've something to say to each other they should be given a chance to say it. They probably want to say goodbye, that's all. I'll make some more tea and sandwiches and then we'll just sit down and be calm, shall we?"

  "Good idea," said David. "I'll give you a hand. God, I hope you're right."

  "One hour," said Henry, looking at his pocket watch as if willing the hands to speed up. "Not one minute more!"

  ***

  In the luminous circle of Karl's embrace, Charlotte didn't stop to think that she was in her family's home, that her father and her husband were downstairs. Inhibition, guilt, self-control; all vaporised. From the first glance, the first touch they had exchanged in the garden, this had been inevitable. Everything that had gone before was forgotten and there was only this ring of crystal, sword-sharp and achingly sweet.

  How
have I lived without this? Charlotte cried to herself. How could I ever have thought I was alive?

  But as their final crest of ecstasy bled away, Karl groaned and turned his face away from her neck. He pulled away from her, actually left the bed and went blindly towards the window as if he would throw himself through it. She sat up in alarm but he stopped, leaning against the glass. After a moment he came back to the bed and sank down onto the floor, clutching her hand and bowing his head against her forearm. They remained there, tangled up with love and despair.

  "Is it always going to be like this?" she said faintly.

  "You are still human, and I am still what I am," he replied. "All the reasons why we could not stay together are the same."

  "But you took my blood once, and I'm still here."

  "The fact that I did so only makes the desire worse."

  She leaned towards him. "So drink from me! I don't care!"

  He turned his head away from her. "But I do. However little I tried to take each time, it would have no end except your death. I could not bear that. I want you, Charlotte, but I cannot have you without destroying you. It is a brutal thing to say, but it is the truth."

  She began to get up, unable to face what he was telling her. "There's no hope, then," she said, wrapping a dressing gown round herself, tying the cord.

  "There never was."

  She sat down on the sofa, watching Karl as he dressed, still dumbstruck by his beauty, aching from head to toe with everything that had happened; most of all, with the helpless anguish of thinking, He's going to leave me again. I can't, I can't bear it, not again… Eventually, her heart breaking, she said, "What are we going to do?"

  He sighed, sat down on the floor and rested his arm across her knees. "I wish I knew, beloved. I have no answer."

  "Unless you make me into a vampire."

  He looked up at her, long lashes fringing his eyes with darkness. "Charlotte, have you forgotten the conversation we had in London?"

  "I remember every word."

  "Then you know it's impossible."

  "But it isn't, not if you really want it! You say my conscience couldn't bear it, but I don't have a conscience, or I wouldn't be with you in my own home—"

  "Vampires take away conscience, too."

  "Don't blame yourself for this, Karl," she said fiercely. "Don't be like my family, assuming I'm incapable of having a thought of my own."

  "You don't know what you're asking!" Karl shook his head, exhaled softly. "I should have stayed away. I tried, but the doppelgänger seemed to know it belonged near you. It must have known my heart better than I did. When I saw you standing there in the rain I had to speak to you… "

  "I'm glad you did."

  "Don't be. It was unspeakably cruel. I have never caused you anything but pain, and now I have returned to cause you more. This is selfishness. Vampires are like this, don't you see?"

  "It was when you were being unselfish I hated you! Trying to leave me because it was 'for the best'. I've thought of all the arguments; that I might change, or die, or Kristian might kill me; even simply what it would do to my family if they knew. It's all hopeless. All I know is that I want you. Won't you take a single risk so we can stay together?"

  Her words seemed to touch him. "You've told me with your heart why you should become like me," he said, his voice low. "We love each other. Simple, yes? But now let your head speak."

  "Do you want one reason, or all of them? It's not that I'm unhappy; I love my family, but I've always felt empty. Even before you came, I was looking for something else, and it's what you showed me, a wild and strange world beyond this one. I can't go through life wondering what it would have been like—to be immortal, to see the future unfold… "

  "Charlotte—"

  "Please, let me finish. Aunt Elizabeth once said I was amoral and it's true. Everyone refuses to believe any ill of me, which says a lot for them but nothing for me. I am not good. I can accept that without wanting forgiveness for it—not even from God. You've shown me the path I want to take. Shouldn't we be responsible for our own destinies? I want to take responsibility for mine."

  "Ah, liebchen," said Karl. His hand curled around her knee, so tight it hurt. "But to take such a risk with your life… "

  "But if I lose you again, I shall die anyway! I don't believe you're afraid. What will you think in a few years' time, when I am gone? 'If only I had taken the chance she would still be here?'"

  His pain was so palpable that it staggered her. Softly, he replied, "I have often dreamed of what it would be like to have you at my side, a companion who is more than a wife, far more than a beloved friend… but dreams are like us. They bite."

  "Let them."

  Then he looked up at her, and his expression was no longer troubled but dark, intent. Her heart threw itself in circles of anxiety. She realised that arguing was the easy part; winning the argument, terrifying. "I can't promise you happiness," he said. "I can't tell you what to expect. Don't turn to me and say, 'You didn't warn me!' because there are no words to prepare you for what will happen… "

  "You've changed your mind?" she gasped.

  "No," said Karl. "The moment I saw you again I knew that I would take you with me, whatever the dangers; but not without your consent. I had to be sure it was what you wanted. But now I'm certain of it I must warn you that I shall be completely ruthless. I won't let your family stand in our way. Nor must you."

  Cold rivulets of foreboding went through her, but she said, "I won't."

  "And I shall find two vampires to help me with the transformation… "

  "Stefan," said Charlotte. "He and Niklas will help."

  Karl looked astonished. "How do you know?"

  "He virtually offered!"

  Karl fell quiet, but he was smiling. "I see. You have this all worked out." He moved to sit on the arm of the sofa, leaned down and kissed her. "Well, now we have decided, there is no point in fearing it. Take this off."

  He lifted her left hand and she realised with a chill that she was still wearing her wedding ring. She removed it. "I only married Henry because I thought it would make Father happy. It was the most dreadful mistake."

  "And I told you it doesn't matter." He took a signet ring from his right hand and slid it onto her finger in place of the wedding band. Red gold with a crimson stone. "For eternity."

  Charlotte caught his wrists. "Karl—something you never told me—do vampires make love to each other?"

  He had no chance to reply; there was a light, hesitant knock on the door. Charlotte tried to ignore it but the tapping was repeated, louder and more insistent. "I ought to answer it," she said.

  "Yes, do," said Karl. "There's nothing they can do to keep us apart. Don't be afraid."

  "I'm not," she said, and meant it. They kissed, parted with lingering touches of hair, arms, hands. "I'm truly not afraid."

  "Charlotte!" came a voice from outside. "Are you all right?" She opened the door a few inches. Henry was there alone, looking overstrung with nervous anger.

  "What are you doing?" he demanded. "You've had an hour to talk. I must—must insist that you, you come downstairs at once. Why won't you open the door properly?"

  Charlotte found she didn't care what he thought. Her indifference to him was so complete that it felt like euphoria. Freedom. She opened the door fully and stood back, as if inviting him in.

  Henry remained on the threshold, his bewildered gaze moving over them. Charlotte in her dressing gown, hair loose over her shoulders; Karl, sitting casually on the arm of the sofa in shirt sleeves, his collar unfastened. The bed in disarray. Perfectly obvious there was nothing innocent in their meeting. And both of them looking back at him with a searing lack of shame. "I see," said Henry, oddly dignified. "Well, you've succeeded in making a complete fool of me, Charlotte. Only you made a fool of me from the beginning, didn't you?" His voice rose. "Perhaps it's my own fault—I know you think I've no pride and, and no feelings, but you're wrong! I won't stand for this!"
/>   His fury startled her. He marched into the room as if he meant to hit Karl. Karl outstared him until he shrank back from the unhuman gleam of his face.

  "You'd better go," said Charlotte. "I've wronged you and I'm sorry."

  "But you're still my wife!" Henry cried. "My wife."

  His distress only infuriated Charlotte. She said savagely, "Karl is my husband in the eyes of God!"

  Henry stared at her through misted glasses, as if she had turned into a different person. "You mean—before we married—you—"

  He seized her shoulders and shook her. She was so astonished that she couldn't defend herself. Then his palm slammed across her face, so hard that she sprawled headlong onto the carpet, almost blacking out.

  Her head ringing and her cheek on fire, Charlotte sat up, sobbing more with shock than pain. Karl was in the doorway, pinning Henry against the wall. Beyond, Anne and David appeared at the top of the stairs, followed by her father.

  Karl, his hands like claws on Henry's shoulders, said drily, "I should kill you for that."

  Henry's face was bleached with terror. For a few moments, Karl looked certain to carry out the threat.

  David shouted, "Get your hands off him!" Karl stepped back and released Henry, thrusting him away contemptuously.

  "Whatever else I am," said Karl, "I do not hit women."

  Henry hurried away to her father, still half-way between rage and fear. "Shameless—in our own home," she could hear him exclaiming as Karl helped her to her feet.

  "Beloved," said Karl, touching his finger to her inflamed cheek. "The truth is going to be a rather brutal shock to them, thanks to Henry, but we would have had to tell them eventually. Remember what we said. Nothing to fear."

  But he was wrong; Charlotte was afraid, suddenly. She and Karl moved to the doorway and stood there defiantly, arms around each other. It had been easier to confront Henry's fury than her father's and David's helpless silence. They can't still be thinking I'm Karl's victim, not after this…

  No. She had finally torn their belief in her innocence to shreds, and how terrible it was to see the disillusionment in her father's eyes. It flayed her raw. She had once told Anne, "It would break Father's heart to know the truth." Now that she saw how true her instinct had been, she would have done anything to turn back time, mend the illusion… but it was too late.