A Dance in Blood Velvet

by Freda Warrington

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You never asked,” she said, “and you were so self-contained, it never occurred to me you didn’t know. I’m only amazed it took you so long to find out. Some vampires take their prey like that every time. The pleasure is... beyond compare.”

  He suppressed a shudder. “Well, I never shall again.”

  “Won’t you?”

  Karl was silent for a long time. Katerina knelt by his chair and watched him, motionless as only a vampire can be. Then she asked, “But how did it feel, to make love again?”

  “Wonderful. As sweet as taking blood.”

  “I know,” she said. “Difficult to give up.”

  “Not at such a price.”

  “But it doesn’t have to be like that. Do you think Andreas and I just read poetry to each other?”

  “Hardly my business to think anything,” said Karl, but emotions stirred amid his pain and guilt.

  “Kristian would disapprove. His law is that we may love no one but him - and then only spiritually, of course. But I cannot give up my pleasures, whatever he says.”

  “But if we feel desire only with the object of taking human blood, why should one immortal feel passion for another?”

  “You forget, we can drink each other’s blood too. And you forget that we can love each other passionately. The secret is that with another vampire, it doesn’t matter if you lose control -” she bit at the air, and smiled - “because for us, it’s not fatal. Far from it, sharing blood is the most divine experience you can imagine. Think about it.”

  “What for?” He was listening from a grey level of consciousness.

  Unexpectedly, Katerina sat on his knee, put her arms around his neck and kissed him, long and passionately. He responded, despite himself.

  “Don’t you feel anything for me?”

  He shut his eyes, rested his head against hers. “Of course I do. But -”

  “Because I love you, Karl.”

  “But what about Andreas?”

  “I love him too,” she said simply. “I have the most terrible weakness for beautiful men. So does he, I’m afraid. We both love you. Andreas won’t be jealous; he’s too in love with himself for that. We aren’t human, so why should we be constrained by their morals?”

  “What makes you think humans are any more moral than we are?” Karl said drily.

  “That’s better,” Katerina laughed. “Oh, stay with us, Karl.”

  Too seductive, her arms, the promise of friendship, love, sex; everything for which he was starving. He held her tight, kissing her cheeks and neck. “I want to,” he sighed. “But what part does Kristian play in this arrangement?”

  At that, she was sombre. “None. I think it’s understood that we share the same feelings about him. As a very young vampire, I adored him; I was disillusioned soon enough. Not my vocation to be a little Sister of the Grim Reaper. Still, it’s safer to play along than rebel openly, as you do. Don’t we fake it beautifully? I don’t know how you get away with being so disagreeable.”

  “If I come to you, he’ll know that you’ve rejected him,” said Karl.

  He thought Katerina would hesitate, but she replied, “It’s dangerous, but you, my darling, are worth the risk.” Suddenly she bit his throat, taking a single swallow of blood. “Do the same, Karl. It’s our bond.”

  “I cannot,” said Karl, the image of Yvette haunting him. He stood up, planting her on her feet. “I cannot.”

  He left her then; but the next night he went back, took the sacramental mouthful from her throat, and from Andreas’s; kissed their hands, embraced them. He was lost, but it was the most welcome surrender.

  Some time passed before he and Katerina became lovers. He held back, feeling that in becoming a vampire he’d forfeited his right to companionship or pleasure. But it happened, inevitably; and while he took her blood in the last blissful convulsion, she also drank from his throat. Nothing was lost. “This is the Crystal Ring,” she whispered. “This is what it really means.” And she was right; once he fell, the rapture was impossible to give up.

  Andreas didn’t take as easily to the arrangement as Katerina had predicted, and was often moody. Perhaps he had reason; it wasn’t sharing Katerina he minded, but knowing Karl favoured her. Karl had no homosexual inclinations, it was that simple. Or at least, he hadn’t as a man; their angel-demon status blurred the boundaries. He felt affection for Andreas. To embrace and exchange blood was an affirmation of love as deep as any. If Andreas wanted more, he was disappointed. However, Karl soon learned that Andreas was happiest when he had a grievance, and an audience to play to.

  “You are like Kristian,” he would complain. “You’re cold.”

  Katerina responded, “I assure you, Karl is anything but cold. You have as much of him as he wishes to give; and everything you want of me. Stop complaining!” And she would take Andreas away and console him. She was in her element with two lovers, yet Karl, strangely, never felt possessive. He loved them both; the arrangement felt warm and natural, free from mortal pain or jealousy... or true passion.

  For a long time they were happy. There were dangerous periods spent hiding from Kristian or placating him, but they had many years before Kristian finally lost patience. He came while Karl wasn’t there, and took Katti and Andrei away into the Weisskalt.

  “If I didn’t have you,” Karl once told Katerina, “there would be no one.”

  And that remained true for forty ice-cold years. He kept himself apart from other vampires, allowed himself no desire for humans except for their blood.

  Until he met Charlotte.

  Sweet, shy, enigmatic; unpredictable, cynical and self-willed. Without trying, she slid through all his defences as no other mortal ever could. In different ways, they seduced each other. Insanity, after what happened with Yvette, knowingly to put Charlotte in the same danger... yet that was the point: the desire and the danger together were irresistible. Even though he loved her too much to hurt her. Even though he averted the danger, forcing himself in the last dizzying moments to turn his face away from her throat... hard to admit, but the risk, the knife-tip struggle, was in itself an unholy pleasure. He could not stop being a vampire, for love of a human.

  When Charlotte joined him beyond the veil, the transformation only magnified everything she had been in life. Shining hair, shimmering eyes. Her waywardness. The unnerving sense that she was searching for something intangible and would pursue it to the edge of destruction... Still mysterious, irresistible to him.

  Karl came out of the trance, one step behind the present. Katti gone... Charlotte beside him instead. The Crystal Ring’s fantastical sky-scape tilted around him. The air was bitingly cold. Had he stayed too long and slipped into torpor?

  As he began to glide down through the deep-blue air, his mind snapped into full alertness. God, Katerina alive again... but Charlotte?

  He heard voices murmuring on the wind. Shadows again, three presences rising up past him behind layers of cloud. Close yet distant. He felt ripples of cold magnetism tugging at him... heard monotonous chanting that filled him with irrational dread.

  Karl dived through nothingness, rushing swiftly home. Weird terror filled him, expansive, fragile and crystalline as the Ring itself. This transcendent realm, perilous yet as constant as an ocean - how could it change?

  With relief, he felt the house solidify around him. Grey dawn seeped into the room; the furniture, fireplace, paintings, familiar in cold shadow. He’d barely stepped out of the Ring when a figure rushed at him and threw her arms around his neck.

  Katerina. He held her tight until she broke the embrace and looked at him, her eyes shining eerily bright in the gloom.

  “Oh, Karl!” she said. “It’s happened, I can enter the Crystal Ring at last! Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “I’m so glad,” he replied quietly. “Did you spend long there?”

  She put back her head, like a cat stretching. “Long enough to rest. Such a relief. I took a gentle wa
lk through the past... remembered conversations with Andrei and you. It helped put my thoughts in order.”

  “Did you... hear anything?” he asked. “Voices?”

  He expected her to dismiss the idea, but she frowned and said, “I think so... I felt odd vibrations, at least. A sort of pulling.”

  “Did you see shapes that might have been other vampires?”

  She shook her head. He saw her through visions of the past that hadn’t quite faded. Katti, friend and lover, always to be trusted.

  “No, but what do you think they were?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ve seen them before, and so has Ilona.” As he spoke, Karl loosed her and went towards the library. He paused in the archway, turned back. How empty the house felt. “Have you seen Charlotte?”

  “No.” Katerina’s voice hardened. “Hasn’t she come back? She’s been away for days, Karl.”

  He was silent, gazing into the dead fire grate.

  Katerina said, “Well? Darling, tell me what’s in your mind.”

  Karl leaned on the mantelpiece, thinking, I can’t believe she still isn’t home. He kept the thought to himself and said, “If the manifestations in the Ring are anything to do with Kristian, we must discover whether he’s alive or dead.”

  “How?”

  “By going to the site where we killed him. I should warn you, it was a deadly subterranean place.”

  “Deadly to vampires?” she said, incredulous.

  “Particularly to us. We’ll have to take great care.”

  “Well, now I can travel again, we can go at once!”

  Karl sighed. “Charlotte and I agreed that if ever we had cause to go back, we would do so together. I don’t want to go without her.”

  Katerina sat down on the arm of a chair. “But Karl, we can’t wait. We really should go immediately.” He understood her excitement at her renewed powers. And he shared her urgency, but he wanted to give Charlotte a few more hours.

  “Not until tonight. I want the cover of darkness.”

  “If you insist,” she said impatiently. “But if Charlotte’s not back by then, we must go without her. Promise me, Karl. Anyway, if it isn’t safe, surely you wouldn’t wish to put her at risk?”

  He looked broodingly at Katti. She added, “She’s had days to come back! Has it occurred to you that she is not interested?”

  Karl dismissed the idea. Charlotte had a passionately enquiring mind. He couldn’t bear to think that their last conversation meant she would never come back... indeed, he was sure she would - but when? And how would she feel, finding out he’d broken his word and revisited the manor house without her?

  Disregarding Katerina’s remarks, he said sharply, “We shall go tonight, whatever happens.”

  A smile touched her full rose-red mouth. “I shan’t mind a little danger. Not if it is with you.”

  * * *

  Holly ran along the main street, thinking only of Ben and the accusations he’d made. She saw a man walking towards her, but didn’t see who he was until he stepped into her path. She ran straight into him.

  Lancelyn. She looked up into his bearded, familiar face, saw his expression crease into lines of concern.

  “Holly,” he said. “My dear girl, are you all right?”

  “Perfectly,” she gasped, round-eyed.

  She’d always been a little frightened of him, but had trusted him with her life. Now all her rocks had dissolved in waves of confusion. She loved him, but again she glimpsed three tall figures behind him, rippling on the air like watered ink.

  She tried to fight free but he held her arms. “I want you to understand,” he said, “whatever happens between Ben and me, I will never hurt you. I love you. You can always come to me.”

  “Yes,” she said, distressed. “I must go.”

  “Don’t let Ben use you against me,” he said softly. “The oath you made to me still binds you. Remember.”

  He released her and she hurried past, away from him. Yet she could not resist looking back.

  There was no one. Where Lancelyn had stood surrounded by his shadowy companions, the street was empty.

  CHAPTER TEN

  VIOLETTE

  In the car that was taking them to Salzburg, Violette sat pressed in the corner, slender legs outstretched, her face an exhausted white oval amid her mourning black. Charlotte, sitting beside her, gave her only an occasional glance. The driver was closed away by glass. Rain sheeted onto the car roof; outside the streaked windows, the Austrian countryside rolled by in lush green beauty.

  Violette had made her assistants travel separately, telling them that Charlotte was an old friend. Charlotte wasn’t sure why she did this. Violette was determined to treat her as an unwanted spectre whose presence she must suffer. Charlotte wished it were not so... but Violette was exhausted. There would be time later to gain her trust.

  Charlotte had hoped for friendship, a dark sisterhood. There was communication, at least, albeit reluctant and threaded with unease. Neither understood the eerie equation that was at work.

  They sat in silence, Charlotte respecting her need for peace. After a while Violette said, “I don’t know what will happen to Ballet Janacek now.”

  “What do you want to happen?” asked Charlotte.

  “God knows. It was his company. It will have to be disbanded.”

  “Why? You could take over yourself, or start your own company with the same people.”

  Violette closed her eyes. “I’m too tired to think of this. I only want to dance, I don’t want to be bothered with all this trouble.”

  “But you would be in charge.” Charlotte sat forward, trying to inspire her. “You could choose the dancers and musicians, and perform whatever ballets you wished. You would have complete control.”

  Violette’s eyes half-opened, slips of jet. “I don’t know.”

  “You are as creative as Janacek was! He was holding you back. Without him you could... fly.”

  “What do you know about it, really?”

  “It’s true. Anyone could see it.”

  “It’s so much to organise. I can’t bear the business side, legal people, accountants... the thought depresses me.”

  “Then let me do that,” Charlotte said softly.

  “Why?” Violette raised her head, startled. “What can you do?”

  “You’d be surprised. I’m good at organising, and I understand figures. Most of all, I am very good making people agree to things and sign the right documents...” She smiled, recalling the vampire glamour that she and Karl used on officials at times. Such subterfuge was necessary for creatures who never grew older, who used different names to protect their identities and travelled without passports. A compliant solicitor was essential; shaping such people was second nature to Karl, and he had tutored Charlotte well.

  “Janacek’s business manager can do all that.” Violette gazed listlessly out of the window.

  “Not as well or as fast I can. How do you know he’s on your side?”

  A flash of anger. “How do I know you are? Are you trying to save the ballet for me, or steal it? I can’t decide whether you’re my fairy godmother or a confidence trickster.”

  “Neither, I swear. I want to help you. Please trust me, Violette. We’ll keep the company together and all you’ll have to think about is dancing. Isn’t that what you want?”

  “All I want,” said Violette, “is to sleep.” She closed her eyes and was silent for the rest of the journey; but Charlotte knew she was not asleep.

  They came down into Salzburg between the mountains and arrived at an elegant almond-green house, four storeys high with tall windows. The home of Ballet Janacek. The river Salzach flowed in front, swift and silver-green. On the far bank stood the old town, where the many church domes were dominated by the great forested ridge of Mönchsberg and the Hohensalzburg fortress. Loveliest of towns, Charlotte thought.

  “Come in,” said Violette as the chauffeur helped them from the car. “Let me show you round. I’d
let you stay in Janacek’s rooms, but I can’t, until his family have taken his effects away.”

  “There’s no need. I can find a hotel.”

  “Nonsense,” Violette said thinly. Her words were polite but her tone was brittle. “You must stay here. We’ll find a room for you upstairs, I’m sure.”

  The house was quiet; many dancers who’d been to the funeral had not yet returned. An elderly woman, a young man and two girls came out to welcome Violette. She greeted them with kisses. They obviously adored her. A tall, thin Austrian maid took their coats; Violette said, “Thank you, Geli. Go and make us some tea; we’ll be up in a few minutes.”

  Her warm, confident manner was in sharp contrast to her wariness with Charlotte.

  As they climbed the stairs, Violette paused to explain the function of each floor. There were rehearsal rooms for the musicians, offices, storerooms for costumes, and on the third floor a huge mirrored studio for the dancers.

  Violette went in and leaned against the barre, looking up. “There are two apartments on the next floor; one is mine, one was Roman’s. Then there are some attic rooms where the corps de ballet live. I think there’s one vacant, though they are a little basic.” Her voice was frosty. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I told you, you don’t have to do anything for me.”

  Violette turned to her, her eyes elongated; black and deepest blue, narrow with unease yet hauntingly beautiful against her milky skin. “Forget what I said in the graveyard - about punishment. I was upset, I wasn’t myself.”

  “It’s forgotten.”

  “Perhaps I’m wrong about you, Charlotte,” she said. “If you can do what you said - do it. I want this ballet to go on - in Janacek’s name, but under my direction.”

  Charlotte felt a rush of excitement. Violette was softening by degrees. “Whatever you want.”

  They went to Violette’s apartment, and took tea - or rather, the dancer did, while Charlotte pretended. She didn’t let herself dwell on what she really wanted. That would be an easy appetite to feed, after dark - and, she thought, I don’t want Violette’s blood. I don’t.