A Dance in Blood Velvet

by Freda Warrington

  He stepped cautiously over his attacker towards the attic. Inside, the others sent up an eerie groan that went through him like a chorus of damned souls.

  In the gloom, an oblong block caught his eye, lying in the centre of the ten-pointed white star. Of course! The Book! He’d been too occupied with Andreas to think of it. No vampires were near it. In fact, they were pressing towards the walls as if it repelled them.

  Ben moved slowly towards the wrecked temple, shoes crunching on broken glass. The dormant vampires looked pitiful, like shrivelled pupal cases. One or two twitched as he passed, and he began to sweat. Hardly daring to breathe, he crossed the white lines of the star and reached down to the Book.

  As he made his way back, a vampire reared like an albino cobra and lunged. Benedict flung up the Book like a shield. The vampire swerved away and collapsed to the floor, uttering faint, piercing wails.

  Ben fled through the door.

  Hugging the Book to his pounding chest, he pointed to the creature by his feet and its fellow on the stairs. “Help me get them back inside.”

  “What?” said Andreas, recoiling. “I’m in as much danger as you! What do you think I can do? I don’t know who they are. You’ve no idea what you’re doing!”

  Ben lost his temper. “Just help me, damn it!”

  Resentfully, Andreas obeyed. How cold the two bodies felt to Ben’s touch, peculiarly weightless yet rigid, like pumice. The one on the stairs lashed out, but Ben pushed its hand away with the Book and it shrank back. Shutting his mind to revulsion, Ben helped Andreas to haul them inside the attic.

  He shut and locked the door, wiped sweat from his face.

  “You’re insane,” Andreas muttered.

  “This Book,” said Ben, holding the volume towards him. “Any idea what it is?”

  “A Bible?” Andreas drew away, folding his arms. “Take it away, it stinks of damp.”

  “Please, look.” Ben opened the thick cover and turned the yellowing pages. “Can you understand it?”

  “No. It might as well be written in Chinese.” He turned away. “What do you want me to say? Get rid of it!”

  “Why are you frightened?”

  “I don’t know. For God’s sake, let me go downstairs, I -”

  “Stay where you are. Answer me. I made you swear an oath on this Book and you recoiled as if it were on fire. Why?”

  “It makes me feel cold and sick. It’s disgusting. It saps my strength.”

  Ben closed the Book and took it out of Andreas’s reach. “It’s all right, you’ve told me enough. This Book has power over your kind. Logically, then, if I place it against the door, the others won’t be able to come past it. Agreed?”

  “Why ask me?” Andreas said thinly. “Some vampires are superstitious, but I never was. I don’t believe in the power of artefacts to repel or control us. So, if I think the Book is evil - or holy, or whatever - it merely indicates that I’ve lost my mind. You had better be careful, my friend.”

  Ben leaned the Book against the door. Inside, there was silence. Sighing, he straightened up and gingerly touched Andreas’s shoulder. “Come downstairs. We must talk.”

  Holly was waiting anxiously in the hall. Seeing Ben, all her feelings gathered in her face. Questions, and a desperate relief that she was too angry to express. Wordlessly, Ben took her arm and led her into the parlour.

  “Everything’s under control,” he said. “They’re safely imprisoned in the attic.”

  “You mean you didn’t banish them?” She turned away, tightlipped, and fetched a decanter and glasses from the sideboard. “Brandy?”

  “Yes, please. God, I need it.”

  “And your friend?”

  Andreas sank down on the floor against a wall, knees drawn up to his chin. The hat hid his face. Ben didn’t suggest he remove it; the pale gaunt skill was an ugly sight, and he didn’t want to give Holly any more shocks.

  Ben said, “I don’t think he -”

  Andreas looked up. “Forgive my bad manners, Gnädige Frau. We have not been properly introduced. I am Andreas.”

  “Holly Grey,” she said, her eyes opening wide.

  “I am delighted to meet you,” Andreas said with hollow courtesy. He lowered his head, and withdrew into silence.

  Holly glared at Ben. “Are you going to explain this to me?”

  Ben coaxed the fading fire to a blaze, then, shivering with cold and delayed shock, he flopped gratefully onto the sofa and pulled Holly down beside him. They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping brandy from balloon glasses. How deceptively cosy and normal the parlour seemed; firelight glowing on creamy walls and on the dark polished furniture. A paper fortress.

  “I didn’t mean to put you in danger,” said Ben. “You should have stayed away.”

  “How could I? I knew you were doing something wrong! Why?”

  The tension of the night dissipated, and the brandy made him heavy-headed. He felt suddenly depressed. “You’ve read Deirdre’s letter, haven’t you? She posted it just before she -”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  Holly lowered her head, pressed knuckles to her forehead. “No. Yes.”

  “Lancelyn and I are at war. It’s been building for a long time, only we wouldn’t admit it. I can’t let him go on like this, but when I try to stop him I have to be prepared for a counter-attack. That’s why I performed the summoning rite again.”

  “You promised you wouldn’t,” she said. “You promised!”

  Unable to deny it, he continued evenly, “A creature materialised, as before. It was Andreas. I wasn’t expecting the others; the summoning must have been more powerful than I realised. I sealed the rift, but I can’t send them back.”

  “But what are they? They give out no aura. They’re like corpses - yet they can move and cry out! Most horrible thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “I wish you’d stayed away. Gods, you might have been killed!”

  “But what business had you, messing with something so dangerous?” she said furiously. “They’re not good or protective spirits, are they? Were you trying to raise the dead? Because that’s what you’ve done!”

  Ben found it difficult to defend himself when he couldn’t even answer her questions. No good dressing up excuses in esoteric language; Holly would never fall for it. He asked quietly, “Andreas, what would you call yourself?”

  “A vampire, natürlich,” Andreas said flatly, “unless you want to be poetic. We are Lamiae, Children of Lilith. Immortals.”

  Holly said, “And were you like the others, when you first came through?”

  Andreas did not reply. Ben answered, “Yes.”

  “But he can walk and talk now. How?”

  “I took him out to feed and he’s a little stronger,” Benedict said uncomfortably.

  “And he fed on -” she whispered.

  “Human blood.”

  “Ah,” she said. “I just wanted to be sure.” She poured more brandy with a shaking hand. Her face was grey. Silence fell, thick with tension.

  Ben thought he heard Andreas murmur, “Christian.”

  He leaned forward. “Do you fear the symbols of Christianity?”

  “What?” Andreas looked up irritably.

  “We are not exactly what you’d call regular church-goers.”

  Sarcastic amazement glittered in the dark eyes. Extraordinary eyes, Ben thought.

  “No? I would never have guessed. No, it’s a man’s name, Kristian, with a K. He was the Devil. I wonder where he is? What year is this?”

  Ben told him. He saw Andreas’s hands tremble, almost saw his mind recoil behind his eyes. “All those years!”

  “Who was he?” Ben ventured.

  “Enough! I can’t tell humans these things! How can I remember, if you won’t leave me in peace to think?” He pointed at the ceiling, his coat sleeve falling to reveal his thin white wrist. “You called the Crystal Ring up there! No human can touch it, they shouldn’t even know it exists - yet y
ou called it, and then you’re surprised there are vampires everywhere! You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?”

  Muttering viciously in German, Andreas leapt up and marched towards the door.

  “Please,” said Ben, “tell me about the Crystal Ring. If you help me, I’ll help you. You’re alive because of me. You must do my bidding.”

  “Pompous idiot,” Andreas snarled. He paused, added, “I have to obey, because you have this power I don’t understand. I wish you’d leave me the hell alone to think.”

  “Very well. Sit down and I’ll leave you in peace. But you’ll tell me eventually.”

  The vampire sank into an armchair, uncannily motionless in his reverie. Ben was stunned by his apparent mental anguish. Who would think that an evil, undead creature could feel fear, confusion, or grief? Andreas puzzled him deeply. He’d expected an astral being, good or evil, to be a fount of higher wisdom. This man, though clearly supernatural, was strangely human in his weakness.

  “So,” said Holly, “we have an attic full of the undead, all starving for blood. What are your plans for these... vampires? To send them against Lancelyn?”

  “They’re for self-defence only.”

  “But what if Lancelyn attacks us? Would you actually let them kill him?”

  “No! I don’t want that!” Holly’s questions exasperated Ben. Of course he must address them, but he wanted to do so in his own time. “I intend to render him powerless. Too scared to practise magic or threaten us, ever again.”

  “But this is dangerous. You can’t guarantee he won’t be hurt.”

  “If he is, he asked for it! What about James and Deirdre? What compassion did he show them? Holly, please!” He so rarely raised his voice to her... foreboding struck him. It had never occurred to him that this might damage their marriage, along with everything else. “I have to work this out for myself.”

  “No. You involve me when it suits you, but when difficulties arise, you shut me out. I’ve known Lancelyn longer than you, and I can’t stand this ill-feeling. I don’t believe he’s guilty, but even if he is, I can’t turn against him.”

  “Whose side are you on?” Ben demanded.

  “Yours, of course, but it’s unfair to make me choose!”

  “Don’t blame me, blame my brother. I haven’t abused my position to exploit and murder people!”

  She turned away, biting her lip. “Ben, I’m on your side. But how can you control these vampires, or feed them? Does the Book explain? Don’t lose your temper, just because I ask a question you can’t answer.”

  Ben looped his hand through her arm, but she remained wooden. “Come on, old girl,” he said gently. “I’m sorry. I don’t know, but I’d better find out fast.”

  “How?”

  Ben lit a cigar, staring through blue haloes of smoke as he pondered. What the hell shall I do? He pictured the Book standing sentinel outside the narrow attic door. Do you contain the secret of transforming a nest of adders into a demon army? Give me answers, damn you!

  He said, “Andreas?”

  The vampire gave him a cold, bitter stare.

  “If the vampires have blood, I assume they’ll begin to recover. How are they likely to behave?”

  Andreas laughed. Barely audible over the crackling fire, he replied, “I have no idea. We were all human once. Like humans, we are all different.”

  A chilling thought. “You aren’t saying that you all died human, and I resurrected you as vampires?”

  “No, Benedict. We were vampires before.” How crisp was his accent, how beautifully precise his English. Delicately self-mocking, hypnotic. “You didn’t create us, only woke us. When they taste blood they’ll begin to recover - and they’ll be savagely angry and hungry, as I was. But I should admit, my friend, that I am a coward as vampires go. I like being looked after and I’ll do anything for a quiet life. You find me easy to control, yes? I am a kitten. What you have in your attic, quite possibly, are eight ravenous tigers.”

  Benedict poured more brandy and swallowed it, grimacing. God, what a nightmare! Bad enough, taking Andreas each night to hunt humans; doing the same for nine vampires was unthinkable. They were in pain, suffering, and useless to him... but how in all conscience could he let them feed? How the hell to control them, if he did?

  Andreas had been too easy.

  As if reading his thoughts, Holly said, “I can’t see an answer. It’s inhuman and dangerous. You’ll have to swallow your pride and ask Lancelyn for help.”

  “Never!” Ben shouted.

  “You can’t cope alone!”

  “Yes, I can!” He lowered his voice. “I’ve made a decision. I’ll leave the creatures as they are for now, with the Book to control them. When Andreas is stronger, he can help me with them, one by one.”

  Her mouth began to form denial, but she only shook her head in despair.

  “Support me, Holly, please. Lancelyn must not find out. It’s essential! Promise me!”

  Not meeting his eyes, Holly promised.

  * * *

  There was no telling what Lancelyn might do next.

  Benedict could not face another visit. The less contact they had, the better.

  He endured the following days in a state of tension. Leaving the house was unavoidable, but he dreaded leaving Holly alone, even with the protection of the Book. He tried to send her to her family in Norfolk, but she refused.

  The best solution, in the end, was for Holly to work in the shop while he stayed at home. He gave Maud various excuses; that he had flu, or needed to work at home. Holly returned each evening, complaining that Maud had driven her mad all day, that Ben hadn’t instructed Mrs Potter to do the right jobs. Their bickering was a symptom of darker anxieties; the intrusion of the otherworld, the constant pressure of presences behind the attic door.

  Ben let Andreas hunt alone each evening, trusting him to return. He always did, as if content to be at Ben’s command. Soon there were rumours of a flu epidemic around Ashvale... even a few deaths.

  Andreas should go further afield to hunt; I’ll buy a car and teach him to drive, Ben thought. And then he put his head in his hands and groaned at the awful banality of evil.

  At night, unable to sleep, he stared at the ceiling for hours, hearing faint scratches and moans above... I can’t bring victims here, he thought. But even if Andreas were to take them out one by one... filling the town with vampires is unthinkable!

  Amid his fears, he acknowledged a terrible fascination with these beings. Andreas’s transformation was remarkable. Every time he returned from feeding, there was visible improvement. His shrunken skin filled out, becoming smooth and radiant. His hair, black, soft and wavy, grew so fast that Holly had to trim it every day. And his face had an extraordinary beauty that Ben had only seen in paintings; ethereal with long, delicate features, deep green eyes with a wary gleam, a sculpted mouth. He was tall but finely built, a rarefied creature, almost translucent.

  He looked like a poet, and had the melodramatic temperament to fit. Ben was intrigued. Andreas couldn’t be judged by petty human standards, after all.

  He tried everything to deflect Ben’s continual questioning, insisting he couldn’t remember, still less confide in a human. If Ben persisted, Andreas would sulk. But, slowly, information emerged. Ben’s ideas began to change.

  The Crystal Ring was another realm, but whether it was the astral world - Lancelyn’s Raqia - he was unsure. There seemed to be no spirits, angels or devils there; only vampires - which were, perhaps, all of those. Yet Andreas seemed to have no deeper insights than a human.

  And Ben thought, Lancelyn’s been deluding himself. I know more than he does!

  One Sunday afternoon, Benedict heard the hiss of bicycle tyres, and looked out to see an unwelcome figure dismounting from his cycle at front door. Holly was in the back garden, Andreas in the study with Ben.

  “God Almighty, it’s Lancelyn!” Ben cried, jumping up. “He mustn’t see you. Go into the kitchen, shut the door and st
ay there.”

  “Liebe Gott, isn’t it enough that I must hide when your housekeeper’s here or the baker at the door? I’m bored with it.” The vampire obeyed wearily, while Benedict opened the front door with a show of composure.

  “Good afternoon. To what do I owe this - honour?”

  “Oh, don’t be sardonic, Ben.” Lancelyn spoke gruffly, removing his bicycle clips. “It doesn’t suit you. How are you? There was a rumour you’d had the flu.”

  How ordinary he looked, a flush-faced gnome with dishevelled hair; how harmless!

  “No, I’m in fine fettle.”

  “Are you sure, old man? Pale and tired, I’d say. Hope you haven’t been overdoing it. Can I come in?”

  “Of course.” Benedict showed him into the parlour, offering cigarettes and whisky. They sat down in apparent civility, Ben feeling as deadly calm as his enemy looked. Playing the British game.

  “I regret our argument,” said Lancelyn.

  “So do I.”

  “So I’ve come to make peace - if you want it.”

  Ben was startled and suspicious. “Oh yes?”

  “You haven’t been to a meeting for two weeks,” said Lancelyn.

  “I thought you’d expelled me from the Order.”

  “Nonsense. I need you.”

  “Ah, yes. Your fishing trip next weekend, isn’t it?”

  Lancelyn clearly heard the edge in Ben’s voice; he gave a long, cold stare. “Anyway, Ben, I’ve come for the Book. Give it back now, and no hard feelings, eh?”

  “I told you, you can’t have it”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Lancelyn said crisply. “Where is it?”

  “Never mind the damned Book!” Ben pulled Deirdre’s letter out of his pocket and put it into Lancelyn’s hands. “Read this. It can’t do her any further harm, now she’s dead.”

  Lancelyn read it swiftly, his only reaction a frown. Then he tore it in half and threw it on the fire.

  “Not much point in burning it,” said Ben. “I won’t forget what she said. You can’t tear my mind in half, can you? Is it true?”

  Lancelyn said nothing. Ben shouted, “Is it true, damn you?”

  “For God’s sake. Yes, it’s true.”

  Ben was devastated. For a white-hot moment, he felt like a child betrayed by his father. “So you provide drugs, sex and occult thrills to rich fools, and then you blackmail them? When James and Deirdre challenged you, you killed them! How could you? I looked up to you!”