"To some degree. You will not know whether they recover or not; don't concern yourself with it, don't even think about it, or you will drive yourself mad."
"I… I don't think I shall do that." She leaned her head back and looked up at the clouds, her violet eyes glistening with their own vampire light.
"Or you can take the life-force of mortals instead of blood, but to do that is almost certain death for the victim; not at once, but of the first trivial illness they catch. And very little pleasure for us."
"I never realised," she said, "how much vampires crave warmth… and touch, human touch."
"An awful thing, really. Our downfall. And Kristian, of course—" Karl stopped, cursing himself for having mentioned the name.
"Go on," said Charlotte. "What about him?"
"He says we should all strive to be like him and feed only on auras, because to take blood is a carnal sin. But then, if he did not have his little group of sinners, he would have no one to save."
"He sounds like a pompous puritan prig."
Karl laughed. "Yes. That's precisely what he is."
Charlotte fell silent for a while. Then she said, "What will happen if he finds us?"
"We can only pray that he does not. He is not omniscient; we can go anywhere in the world."
"But I don't want to live as a fugitive! I don't even know that I want to leave England… not just yet."
Karl breathed out softly, wishing he could hold back the relentless flow of reality. "If he does find us, I may not be able to protect you. Not that I shan't try."
"I don't expect you to!" She raised her head and looked at him, biting her lower lip as if there was something she dared not say; looking purely human, the nervous, passionate girl he had fallen in love with. "Karl… "
"What is it?"
"I have to go back to Cambridge." She spoke hurriedly, as if unsure of his reaction.
Lead weights pulled at his heart, although he had half-expected it. "Why?"
"I must speak to them—especially Father. I must try to make them understand."
"Oh, Charlotte, no," he said sadly. "You want them to forgive you, but how can they? This is not something that can be forgiven. It's not even fair to ask."
"But I still love them! It's as if I never realised it before. I can't just leave them in pain… I thought I wouldn't care but I do, it's worse than ever."
"I don't think I ever gave you the impression that vampires are unfeeling creatures. I told you this would be difficult."
"But not this bad, you never said it would be this bad!"
Karl saw her pain boiling to the surface and knew he could do nothing to comfort her. "You're tormenting yourself. I know how hard it is, but you must let them go."
A flash of determination in her face. "Who are you to tell me that? You kept going back to your family, for years you said."
"Yes, and it was a terrible mistake. I am trying to tell you to learn by what I did wrong."
"Let me make my own mistakes, then. I love them," she said, quiet and resolute. She sat forward, holding her forearms; separating herself from him. "Karl, I would quite like to be on my own for a while."
Her words gave him a jolt. "It's too soon. You haven't learned how to use your powers; I can't let you—"
"But you can't protect me! You said it yourself. David and Father tried to cloister me against danger and it was so pointless. Pointless."
His instinct was to argue with her, to hold her; the thought of her walking away into the night felt like part of himself being torn away. The weirdest of griefs, when he had been self-sufficient for so long. But he thought, If I let her go she will come back. Resisting the temptation to touch her, he said levelly, "Very well. I understand. Go and do whatever you must, Charlotte. I shall go back to Stefan's. But remember, you cannot have both your family and me."
She stood up, looking stunned. "Are you asking me to make a choice?"
"The choice was made when you became a vampire." Karl knew how heartless he sounded; he longed to take her hand, at least to kiss her before she went, but he did not. "You cannot go back through the veil."
She went on staring at him for a moment, amethyst eyes dark with thought; then she drew back as if rejected, turned, and began to walk slowly away.
Karl stayed where he was, his senses and feelings drawn out after her until he could see her no more. And he told himself over and over again, If I let her go she will come back.
***
At Dr Neville's request, the following day, Elizabeth had brought Madeleine home to Cambridge. Now they sat in the drawing room, while Anne and David tried to explain what had happened. Elizabeth reacted with suppressed distaste, but Madeleine was distraught.
"How could Charlotte do this to me?" she cried, and ran from the room in tears.
Anne stared after her, thinking, Typical of Maddy to take it so personally. Is it losing Charlotte's friendship that's upset her the most or is it that she's still jealous over Karl? God knows. Does it matter? The poor girl's got every right to be upset. Oh, Charli…
"What a mess," Elizabeth said tiredly. "And how has poor Henry taken all this?"
"Henry is going to leave," said Dr Neville. He was sitting at his escritoire in the corner, apart from the others. "I shan't try to stop him this time. I don't want him to go, but—he hit Charlotte. I can never forgive him for that."
"It was inexcusable, I know," said David. "But he was under extreme provocation, and von Wultendorf has done a damn sight worse than hit her. I still can't believe that she went with him of her own free will!"
His father did not reply. He looked grey with strain and burnt-out rage.
David went on, "He must have bewitched her. How could she love him when she'd seen him drinking blood, seen—"
"David, stop it!" Dr Neville's eyes were tight shut, his fists clenched. "We don't need reminding!"
"Sorry, Father. I don't know. What do you think, Annie?"
"I think you should accept that she wanted to go and that you can't do anything about it. Pray that she's safe and that she'll come to her senses soon."
"I have to agree, I'm afraid," said Elizabeth. "You might have to be hypnotised to find Henry attractive, but not Karl, I can assure you. I've always said Charlotte was a self-willed madam; no one could see it but me. She knew what she was doing."
Dr Neville suddenly struck the edge of the desk with his fists. "How could she do this!" he cried. "Commit adultery with that—that—and then to run away with him. What am I going to tell people? I shan't dare show my face among my colleagues. We'll have to leave Cambridge."
"Don't over-react, Father," David said soothingly. "It's not the first scandal in history. If Henry leaves town, you can say she's gone with him."
"Why say anything at all?" said Anne. "It's no one else's business!"
"But you know what gossips people are! Besides, I have to tell the servants something. The Maples have been with me for years. I can't lie to them. God, the humiliation."
"For goodness' sake, George, is that all you can think of?" Elizabeth said tetchily. "It's your fault she turned out so shy and bookish. You smothered her. She was bound to rebel against it in the most dramatic manner possible."
"How dare you blame me for this?" Dr Neville exclaimed. "I gave her everything! If it's anyone's faults, it's yours! You never liked her and you took every opportunity to make her feel wretched!"
"Was I obliged to like her, just because I'm related to her? The feeling was mutual. I didn't like Annette either, always looking down her saintly nose at my decadent ways."
"Don't you dare speak ill of Annette!"
Anne flinched at her father-in-law's anger. Elizabeth, don't. He'll have a heart attack if he goes on like this.
"All I'm saying is that she wasn't perfect and neither is Charlotte. You liked Karl once, remember? I think you would have been just as put out if she'd eloped with the Prince of Wales; you simply can't bear the thought of her loving anyone except you!"
<
br /> "That's absurd!"
"If you'd only face the truth—"
"Oh, do stop it!" Anne said in exasperation. "What good is it to blame each other?"
Elizabeth looked away, inspecting her nails. Then she sighed and said, "I'm sorry, George." To Anne's surprise she went to him and put her hand on his shoulder. She seemed to be struggling not to cry. "You know how I am when I'm upset. I don't mean to be cruel."
"No tears now," he said, patting her hand awkwardly. "You were always the strong one, Lizzie; if you break down, how can I cope?"
"We'll manage, dear. We always do, somehow." Elizabeth left the room, her chin in the air, hiding her feelings.
When she had gone, Dr Neville sank down on an upright chair by the window and put his head in his hands. "What is he?" he said, anguished. "A murderer, not even properly human. What's he done to my darling Charlotte?"
Anne went to him and put her arms around his bulky shoulders. He was weeping. David followed, but hung back a little, seeming at a loss. "Don't upset yourself," David said. "We'll find her."
"No," Dr Neville said firmly. "You're not even to try. I made her leave; I'm not going to beg her to come back. If she returns of her own accord—well, then I might consider forgiving her." Tears oozed between his wrinkled eyelids. "Elizabeth's right, it is my fault. I destroyed her life. Now I'm paying for it. Her mother, Fleur, Charlotte—God, how much more must I be punished?"
"Don't, Prof," Anne said, unable to soothe him. "You still have us."
Dr Neville nodded. Outwardly he was back in control, but he looked bereft, beyond comfort. "I had better go up and see how Madeleine is," he said. "She's my only daughter now. I've never been a proper father to her."
***
On her own, Charlotte did not feel lonely or vulnerable. She felt complete. The night seemed expansive, shimmering around her. She was drifting through it, completely part of it; calm, open to every sensation. The air—even though it was misted with smoke and river smells—was deliciously fresh and cold on her skin. She walked and walked with no direction, simply floating.
At this moment she did not need Karl; she did not want anyone to distract her from the strangeness, the wonder and pain of the transformation. She was awe-struck, still poised between euphoria and horror; and the memory of her departure from Cambridge had taken on a white-hot vividness she had never experienced in life…
That look in Father's eyes. And Anne, Anne, how could I betray her when she has stood by me all through my wildness and selfishness, never condemned me? And Maddy… what will she feel when they tell her? God, I never knew how much I loved them. I don't care what Karl says. If I never saw them again I couldn't bear it.
Warehouses and cranes loomed against the sky; the dark bulk of cargo ships sat in the water, ugly and menacing. The darkness was alive with the creak of ropes, the slap of water, the scratching of rats. She had wandered into an area that she would never before have dreamed of entering, let alone on her own at night. Yet now it did not matter. Even in the bleakness there were entrancing patterns of colour and details. No danger could touch her; even in this place, she was the danger—
The realisation hit her suddenly and she wrapped her arms around herself. "God," she gasped. "Oh God, what has happened to me?"
A girl on her own with no coat or hat, in the depths of night; how odd she must look, to anyone who saw her… and she could sense eyes in the shadows, following her, perhaps thinking they saw a ghost. Her normal self-consciousness had vanished. She sat down on a low concrete wall, oblivious to anything but the flowering of thought and sensation inside herself.
They are thorns, these feelings. I see more clearly and feel everything more acutely; joy, pleasure… and sorrow. Karl didn't tell me… Oh, but didn't he say, "There are no words?" All I can see is the disappointment in Father's eyes, David's dismay… They must hate me for this! It seemed perfectly, agonisingly obvious. She said out loud, "They hate me and I cannot bear it. What am I going to do?"
Heat on her back like sunlight. Then a man sat down beside her, making her start. She had felt his warmth from a distance and had not realised. "Now, pet," he said, his voice unctuous and slurred with drink. "Bit late ter be wanderin' around on yer own, ain't it?"
He was dressed in a thick shabby coat that stank; his eyes were narrow under the brim of a grimy cap, his mouth slack and whiskery. He was threatening, repulsive. She wanted to shout, "Leave me alone!" and run for her life—yet she did not move. That was a human reaction. With a sensation of mild surprise she found that in reality, his presence simply did not matter.
"Don't be frightened," he said, as if coaxing a nervous kitten. "Run away from yer 'usband? Yer old dad?"
"Yes," she said. And to her own amazement, as if watching herself from outside, she started to cry.
"There, there, pet. You must be freezin'." He edged closer. When she did not move away he grew bolder. He put his arm around her, hesitantly, unsure of how she would react; but under the hesitancy, she sensed a sudden tautness of desire. And although his coat was musty with sweat and smoke and stale beer, and his grotesque crude courtship filled her with disgust, she felt completely beyond these surface feelings. He was warm and human. He was not rejecting her; he wanted to hold her to him, to say, "Everything's all right," as her own loved ones could not.
So she turned and put her arms about him, let her face slide down between his collar and the moist gritty skin. He gave a sort of shudder. "Oh. There now, pet, no more tears." Easy as kissing him, she nipped the flesh between her teeth, felt it break, felt the current of blood fountaining gently against the roof of her mouth.
This was all the love and comfort she had wanted. Consolation for every loss, every harsh word… Fulfilment. All her pain was gone in a rush of light and energy and her heart was singing with relief, like the relief when Karl had first put his arms around her and kissed her…
But she was drifting. The man was slumped against her now and she came back to herself and shoved him away, repelled. She was on her feet, staring at his insensible bulk, suddenly overwhelmed by disgust at him and at herself. She wanted to wash. Horrible image of Lady Macbeth, scrubbing her hands raw… If I washed in holy water would it take this curse from me? Or the blood of the lamb…
She turned and she was running blindly, carried by the warmth of the stolen blood, horror singing through her like a bayonet of glass. Did I have some idea that I could take blood just once and it would be a single forgivable sin? No, it will happen again and again and…
In a cobbled lane she stopped, sensing a presence. Not the warm moist radiance of humans but a jet hardness leaning on her mind. A vampire.
"Karl?" she said uncertainly, looking around. In the cone of light beneath a street lamp she saw a tall broad figure slip out of the Crystal Ring into the visible world. Black hair, black clothes of the last century; the face starkly white against them. His sheer size was intimidating in itself, but it was the harsh strength of his features that transfixed her. And the domineering benevolence that poured from his eyes.
She knew who he was. But nothing Karl had told her could have prepared her for the shock of meeting Kristian; the dazzling awe she felt seemed to come from outside her, a rain of physical blows. All her preconceptions were torn away. It was like coming face to face with Lucifer and finding him no horned demon but an angel of light; radiating not evil but kindness, mercy, the hope of salvation. Everything that in her confusion she needed.
"Charlotte," he said. He spoke English with a rolling accent she could not identify. "Don't run from me. Do you know who I am?"
"Kristian," she whispered. It was all she could do not to go down on her knees to him.
His lips curved, a large beauty mark on his cheek rising with the smile. "No doubt Karl has told you I am a complete monster. But I am not. I am not going to harm you. I know the spiritual pain you are suffering. It is so cruel of Karl to transform you then abandon you. And typical of him. Yet I don't blame him. I would have ch
osen you myself."
His last words slid heavily through her, like nails through flesh. She was nailed to the earth by his overpowering will. "Don't fear me," he said gently. "You are too lovely to destroy. I suppose Karl told you there was nothing to believe in, no God. He is wrong. Poor soul, he will return to the fold one day. But you have faith in God, don't you, Charlotte?"
"I don't know," she said, her voice almost failing her.
"Ah, the paucity of his spirit has infected you already. But it is not too late. Let me reassure you; God exists, and He is on our side." Kristian spoke with such warmth and authority that she felt herself being swallowed by it. She wanted reassurance so desperately. "I shall give you answers to your questions and pour balm on your wounds. Come with me, Charlotte."
"Where?"
"I'm taking you home." He made the word home sound so complete, so desirable. She felt by instinct that she trusted him—yet she did not trust her own instinct. She remembered everything Karl had told her yet she still wanted to fall to Kristian. The turmoil was tearing her apart.
"No—no I can't," she said, edging away.
His voice was warm but imperative. "You have no choice, my child."
Warnings shrilled through her. She realised that Kristian was the only being who had the power to resurrect human fear in her. I couldn't understand why Karl could never escape or defeat him—until now…
She turned to run, but he caught her arm. The Crystal Ring! But the reflex came too slow; her new abilities were still foreign to her and she could not step into the other-realm fast enough. She experienced one moment of freedom—then Kristian was with her, his wolfish limbs entwining round hers. She fought. The Ring disorientated her and she flailed like a first-time skater on ice. And now she was bound in his arms as if by steel hoops. Powerless, she felt his fangs drive into her neck, felt her strength bleeding away and a black chill spreading through her. Hideous sensation, while the surly beauty of the Crystal Ring fountained and wheeled away beneath them as they travelled.
"God allows only His immortal children here." Kristian's voice filled her head. "Look on this with awe and humility. We walk through the mind of God. Your soul is too small to appreciate how privileged and blessed you are."
A Taste of Blood Wine Page 50
