A Dance in Blood Velvet

by Freda Warrington

  She was alone in the chapel. The angels had left. She had no thoughts of running away: the self she wanted to flee would only come with her. The slightest movement made her feel ill, as if fever waited to flash up and consume her. She must simply hold still against fear, the pain of memory, the constant dry burning of her veins. Sit very still.

  “Lady Sophia,” said a voice behind her. The self-styled magus.

  She heard his footsteps in the aisle as he approached and sat beside her on the pew. No ostentatious reverence or tears this time, and she was glad. His first display had repelled her.

  “My dear lady,” he said, “are you afraid?”

  With an effort, she turned to look at him. She could not focus properly - or rather, she focused too well. His face was too large, too full of colour and detail; she saw every pore in the florid skin, every whisker. Even the sight of him invaded her, like a violation. Light poured onto him from the tall windows above the altar. Her vision pulsed like a heart, expanding, contracting. Nothing made sense.

  “The angels said I must obey you in all things,” said Violette. Her voice was small, without emotion.

  “Will you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  His question penetrated the glass wall and shook her. He rested his fingers lightly on her hand. His touch disgusted her. He was Janacek, and the too-handsome Adam who’d tried to subjugate her in Eden, and her own father. He was every male who’d ever asserted dominance over wives, sisters, daughters...

  “Why do you need to ask why?”

  “Lilith does no one’s will except her own,” said Lancelyn. He spoke as gently as a priest. “Who tells the Black Goddess what to do? I am asking you not to obey me, but to join me. To let me in.”

  Violette could not speak for a time. There was nothing to say. At last she said, “I have nothing to offer you.”

  The words felt hollow. She’d thought the same about Janacek, and all the men and women who approached her with feverish eyes and bouquets in their clammy hands. She’d even thought the same of Charlotte. “What do they want? I give them my whole self on stage, there’s nothing else - yet they seem to want more, something I don’t understand. Embraces, kisses, sex? Why? It means so little.”

  She didn’t realise she had spoken aloud, until Lancelyn said, “But it moves the stars.”

  “That’s sentiment,” she said. “No, it’s about possession. They want to control me and I don’t know why.”

  “When you dance, you control them.” Again the intrusive fingers touched hers. Sickening pain gripped her heart. “Yes, I know who you were,” he said. “But through each other we’ll both become different. It’s alchemy, transformation.”

  “But I’m afraid. I don’t want to change.” She added, her voice knife-edged, “I resent the intrusion.”

  Lancelyn leaned back, unconsciously giving her more space. His voice was like velvet, or the plush fur on an old toy, comforting. “When I was young, I kept seeing three dark angels. Others would have been scared to death. But I knew, even as a child, that their darkness was to protect my eyes from their brilliance. You are like that, Sophia.”

  Another shiver that made her whole body hurt. “You saw them too? I dreaded them!”

  “Why?”

  “Because I knew they’d come from God to punish me.”

  “A different interpretation, that’s all! Don’t you see that we are linked? God’s envoys have guarded us both, waiting for the right time to unite us. Me, a seeker of wisdom, and you, Wisdom herself.”

  Violette felt something break through the glass shroud; a tendril of hope. “You really saw them? I thought I was alone, and mad.”

  “No,” he said. How tender he sounded. “Of course you were frightened; only a fool would feel no awe. But they are our guides, not our foes.”

  Violette swallowed, her throat thick and bitter. “My pain won’t end until they have their way.”

  “Think of it as a change, not defeat.”

  “No, it must be defeat, a surrender to the forces I loathe. It’s the only way to atone for all my sins...” Tearing my mother apart, she thought, which drove Father away and made him prey to a lamia who destroyed us all; my original sin, my black hair, my depravity... the prophecy fulfilled when I gave in to Charlotte.

  “Then we both capitulate,” he said. “We give up our egos and throw ourselves into the Abyss. No magus reaches enlightenment unless he surrenders himself. You are prey to darkness, by which I mean superstitious ignorance; that’s why you are confused. You don’t know yourself. We’ll find the light together!”

  She saw Lancelyn as her father - her father as he should have been. And Janacek loved me, she thought, as if she’d never realised before. He was cruel because he couldn’t have me. If I’d given in, he would have been happy - but would I?

  Stop fighting. Let it happen.

  But Janacek was afraid of me! That’s why he never dared force me... My dancers jump when I shout, my assistants are deferential, strangers so nervous. All scared of me. Even Charlotte!

  “Do I frighten you?” she asked.

  “Of course.” Lancelyn half-smiled. “All men fear you, because you represent sexuality and knowledge. To us wretched men, that is a truly terrible combination in a female. Who would not fear Lilith or Kali? She is not a gentle goddess but harsh, unforgiving and truthful. That is why the man who dares to enter her risks so much - but will gain everything if he survives.”

  “I don’t wish to frighten anyone.”

  “You can’t avoid it,” he said, with rueful affection. “Don’t be kind to me. Be yourself.”

  “Do you love me?”

  “With all my soul.”

  She lifted her hand a fraction of an inch, a small gesture, letting him fold his fingers around hers. His grasp roused no feelings, only held her steady, and she badly needed that. She needed to be confined, made safe.

  She said, “You’re the only person I have ever spoken to who seems to understand me.”

  “I wouldn’t claim that, but believe me, you are among friends here. Only let me through to the hidden sanctum, beloved Sophia; then I’ll truly understand.”

  “I’ll do it,” she said softly. “I’ll do the thing I dread. There’s nothing else left.”

  * * *

  The well, Karl’s prison, became a physical manifestation of his thirst. Lightless, relentless, inescapable. A sucking pit.

  His mind was disembodied yet lucid. He thought, How did I let this happen? Even Kristian never reduced me to this. Even he allowed me some free will and dignity. I thought that once he was gone, there’d be nothing to fear...

  Words he’d once spoken to Charlotte’s brother now echoed with cruel vengeance. “We are very hard to kill, David. Rather like trying to cut the heads from the Hydra; strike us down and more of us come back.” I slew Kristian and now I have three enemies in his place.

  Karl hallucinated that Kristian was with him in the darkness. The space around them was no longer a pit but a castle balcony overlooking the Rhine. Schloss Holdenstein; another prison. And Kristian, unseen yet tangible, was a wall across the sky.

  “I was the shield between you and God,” said Kristian. “You shattered me and now there’s no veil to protect you from the dazzling scythes of His wings. This is what you wanted, Karl. Don’t complain that you didn’t guess how terrible this would be. I warned you, but still you would have your way.”

  Karl tried to answer. Something about redemption... “If I asked forgiveness... if I told you I loved you, Father...”

  “No, you trod that path before,” Kristian replied. “It was all deceit. You told me you loved me; I believed you, and you used the lie to lead me into danger and death.”

  “Even lies contain a seed of truth,” Karl murmured. “It took an axe to end your tyranny. If only a kiss of friendship had been enough...”

  “Judas,” said Kristian. “You killed me with a kiss, as you kill your victims. How can I save you now,
when you destroyed your saviour - me? There is no second chance.”

  Karl was holding onto Kristian’s hands, only to keep himself from plunging into the chasm. Strangely the hands were no longer huge but small, feminine...

  The hallucination slid towards reality. There was someone in the pit with him; not Kristian, but a woman. First he saw a black shape outlined by a crackling aura... then he made out her features, as if through inky glass. Nut-brown skin, big kohl-ringed eyes, midnight hair sliding over her shoulders. An angel, with a vampire’s face. Now she was in his arms. So slender, she felt, so warm, hardly supernatural at all...

  God, how he needed her blood. But he must be careful...

  “Rasmila,” he said.

  “Or Semangelof.” Her voice was soothing, with a lovely, precise Indian accent. “I am both now, and neither.”

  “Were you ever human?”

  “Once, very long ago. It was hard for me because my people are not allowed to kill any living thing. But in my transcendent form I become God’s messenger and shed all my earthly ideas...”

  “How did this happen?”

  She only gave a chiding smile. “This does not matter now.”

  “Of course it matters. Am I to believe there is a God after all?”

  “Am I not proof?”

  No, Karl thought, nothing is proof. But she was right. She was in his arms, so close... And vampire blood, although less luscious than that of humans, was every bit as desirable when the thirst was intense. Karl felt desire sear through him, an intolerable pull that settled in his chest and hurt like a blade.

  Yet he knew how strong she was. If he tried, she might destroy him. A mercy, perhaps.

  “Do you know why you are here?” she said.

  “Wasn’t there something about punishment?”

  “That is to come. You were put here to test Benedict.”

  “Ah, yes.” Karl looked softly at her, knowing his eyes were jewels that could seduce any mortal... No heavenly creature would be taken in, but his thirst demanded that he try. “I might have killed him. That was cruel to us both.”

  “Not cruel,” she said. “What use is a test that doesn’t try the postulant to the utmost? Cruelty does not exist on this level. He saw the danger and evaded it. You must be famished now. Are you not? Isn’t the hunger agony?”

  Karl turned his face away. “I can bear it.”

  “I’ve come to take you out of here.”

  “I’d go with you gladly, if I could move, but I can’t. You and your friends took my strength.”

  “And I am here to give it back,” said Semangelof.

  He looked into her black eyes. His thirst surged like a cobra. “I can’t drink the blood of an angel - can I?”

  “Just a little,” she said.

  “Just a little,” Karl agreed, electrified. He tightened one arm around her; with the other hand he stroked her cheek. Rather than strike immediately, as thirst commanded, he paused to kiss her lips, cheeks, chin. From the way she pressed against him, he knew that he had seduced her after all.

  Gently he let his lips travel down her neck. He nipped the skin, let his fangs slide into her; holding back with all his will. And even when the lovely ruby beads oozed into his mouth he pushed aside the surge of relief and drank slowly, holding her with tenderness, as he would have held Charlotte.

  When the time came to stop - the balance point, when he had sufficient strength, and she could spare no more without losing her own - she said nothing. He went on drinking, and she let him. He expected her to struggle out of his embrace, to cry, “Enough!” Yet she did not. Seemingly lulled into delicious languor, she let him drink and drink...

  Eventually Karl could draw no more blood from her. Her veins were dry. Reluctantly he ceased, kissing the wound he’d made; feeling the edges heal under his tongue. God, how lovely to have fed from an angel. Paradise.

  Then she pulled back, a crease between her thick dark eyebrows. “You’ve taken a lot,” she said.

  “Only what you and your friends took from me.”

  “You’ve taken too much.”

  “You could have stopped me,” he said, half-smiling. “You did not, mein schönes Engelein.” He stood, lifting her to her feet. “Is it my fault?”

  “No,” she said. “I mean you have drunk too much for your own good.”

  Karl paused, distrustful. “What’s this, another ploy to disarm me?”

  “No, I speak the truth. My blood has put you in our power.”

  He felt disbelief and dull apprehension. “How?”

  “I’m sorry, Karl. This has to be. You are guilty. For as long as my blood sustains you, you are part of us.”

  Karl realised that their communion had been illusory. Her face faded behind an inky veil. She became taller and colder, her corona dazzling. He let her go.

  “Guilty?” he said. “How can you defend Kristian, who tried to destroy you? Was that his secret, that people still loved him no matter what he did?”

  “Come with me now,” she said.

  Karl, warm with the sparkle of her blood, began to climb the rough damp walls of the pit. He found the bottom rung of the ladder, and was out in seconds. So easy now.

  She led him down a tunnel and into a startling cave like the interior of a jewelled egg. They must have dragged him through here on their way to the pit; he couldn’t remember. Now he took in the riot of semi-precious stones, charming statues contemplating a spring that flowed on its glassy way to other, unknown caverns.

  A rough-hewn stairway rose to a bright doorway some twenty feet above. At its base stood Simon and Fyodor. Their radiance was dim and they looked near-human.

  Karl felt the fire of Rasmila’s blood and the Crystal Ring’s touch. Could they stop him if he tried to escape? Undoubtedly -but the awful thing was that he had no desire to try. All motivation gone, he was slipping into a thick garnet-red pool of lethargy. He thought of Charlotte and felt nothing.

  It’s true, he thought numbly. The blood’s put me in thrall to them.

  “Welcome, Karl,” said Simon. “I am sorry our friendship has to end in this manner.”

  “Indeed?” Simon had a compelling air of authority, but Karl wouldn’t admit defeat. “I thought you were glad that Kristian’s death restored you to life. What am I missing? Have you forgotten our conversations, Simon?”

  “You won’t understand how we can be vampires, once human, and envoys of God at the same time. It is a mystery among many.”

  “We all have different aspects,” said Karl. “Are you the only ones?”

  “There may be others, but they’re not known to us. Our purpose was to choose and create Kristian.”

  “For what reason? You claimed you made him a vampire in order to mock his piety. A joke that went wrong. A strange lie, was it not?”

  “It was true, on the surface,” Simon said benignly. “I know it’s hard to comprehend.”

  “I’ll try,” Karl said aridly.

  Fyodor interrupted, “We waste our time talking to him,” but Simon held up a hand to quiet him and went on.

  “We are dual beings. We retain our once-human forms, but the centuries drew us closer to God until we became the mercurial link between Earth and heaven. We exist on both levels. At the divine level is the true reason for Kristian’s creation: we sent him as a priest to rule God’s flock.”

  “He claimed he’d destroyed you,” Karl said quietly.

  “Because we let him believe it,” said Fyodor. “We rested in the Weisskalt, beneath the Eye of God, because we were no longer needed.”

  “But we remained vigilant,” said Simon. “As dual beings, we can divide and become, as it were, doppelgängers of ourselves. Our human forms slept while our divine halves watched.”

  “And served Lancelyn?”

  “He drew our attention, as did Violette. In shadow form, we could do no more than observe. But when you slew Kristian, our sleeping halves woke. Gradually our purpose became clear, until body and spirit rejoin
ed. The physical vessel refilled with divine fire and became whole.”

  “So, if you come from God,” Karl said sceptically, “have you seen Him?”

  Rasmila said, “The face of the Almighty is too bright even for angels to look upon.”

  “Or he doesn’t exist!” said Karl. “Does he speak to you, issue instructions? ‘Create a vampire priest’, ‘Capture a disobedient goddess’?”

  “He speaks through our mercurial nature,” said Simon, as if this made obvious sense. His eyes had the impenetrable glint of brass. Karl knew he’d never wrench the truth from them. The cloudy void between reality and imagination held no logic, only possibilities, beliefs and mysteries. There was no absolute truth.

  “And your instructions now?”

  “To raise another immortal to rule over vampires in Kristian’s place.”

  Karl felt his grip on reason slipping. While Kristian’s twisted evangelism had made the concept of God repellent, Karl had accepted Charlotte’s theory that the Crystal Ring was created by mankind’s subconscious. Now he felt a sudden fearful vertigo, logic sliding away on a slick of angel’s blood.

  What if Kristian was right? How can I doubt beings who speak with such authority?

  “How can a loving God support the existence of vampires?” he said, cursing the futility of the question. God allows all manner of horrors.

  “Who told you that God was loving?” Fyodor said mockingly. “Surely not Kristian. Vampires are the lash of God.”

  “And this immortal is to be Lancelyn?”

  “He is a good choice,” said Simon. “More intelligent than Kristian, less extreme. He will woo his followers, not drive them away. And we won’t repeat the mistake of letting him minister alone. Kristian was vulnerable because he was incomplete. So we have found Lancelyn a wife, the only possible consort, the Mother of Vampires. Lilith, like us, is a dual being. She woke in Violette for this purpose. She symbolises the first woman, who strayed and must return to her husband. Thus Lancelyn represents Adam, the first male. In their union, both are redeemed and empowered.”