A Dance in Blood Velvet

by Freda Warrington

  Human warmth drew them along a passage to a large bedchamber. Karl heard Ben’s voice raised, almost screaming. The door was open, Violette standing just inside, Ben gripping her shoulders. Lancelyn was lying naked on his stomach a few feet away. Pushing past Katti and Andrei, Karl entered the room.

  Benedict was shaking Violette, shouting, “What have you done to him? What have you done?”

  He might as well be shaking an automaton. She stared through him and ignored his grip as if rooted in stone. Her mouth dripped blood.

  Since Ben had forced Karl to act against his own friends -whether he’d known what he was doing or not - Karl had no sympathy left for him. He broke Ben’s grip and shoved him back against the wall, so hard that he grunted with pain. “Leave her alone. Have you not done enough harm?”

  Ben writhed, trying to escape, hardly seeing Karl. “She attacked my brother, she tried to kill him! Look at him!”

  Karl looked down at Lancelyn. The magus who’d once seemed so poised, intelligent, humorous, now writhed in madness on the floor, all dignity gone. Karl saw two purple marks on his neck and his pallor, a sure sign of Violette’s feast. His face was contorted, unhuman sounds hissing from his throat, a hideous grin twisting his mouth. All the light had gone from his eyes. Karl turned away in disgust and pity.

  Looking at Violette, he asked, “What happened?”

  She wiped her hand across her lips. “He forced me...” She trailed off. Karl sensed she was not ready to be reasoned with or consoled. She seemed primal, isolated.

  Ben was leaning down to Lancelyn, weeping openly now. “Someone help me with him, please.”

  As he reached down, Lancelyn rose in a serpentine contortion and attacked him. His hands went round Ben’s neck and the two men collapsed on the floor. Ben fought, choking soundlessly.

  By reflex, Karl seized Lancelyn and tried to separate them.

  Incredible, his strength, almost vampiric. Karl held the thick wrists and prised them slowly away, conscious of Rasmila-Semangelof’s energy burning fierce but short-lived within him. The brothers’ sweat-stench was now strong enough to mask the aroma of blood. Karl did not think of feeding. Ben’s mouth was open, his face a purple mask of agony. Then Karl jerked Lancelyn loose. Ben scrambled up and ran, coughing and retching.

  Karl held Lancelyn’s wrists hard, trying to calm him. Lancelyn went on writhing beneath him, his tongue flicking from side to side in the red slot of his mouth. His eyes were white crescents. The revelation drove Karl almost to tears. Lancelyn was not hysterical, but completely unhinged. The brain behind the eagle-keen eyes dashed on the rocks of ambition. And although he’d hardly known the magus, the tragedy burned him.

  “Get out, all of you,” Karl said.

  Karl flung Lancelyn aside and ran. As soon as he was through the door, Ben slammed it shut and locked it behind him. Katti and Andrei were in the passage, but there was no sign of Violette and Charlotte.

  The door shook in its frame as Lancelyn threw himself against the other side. Ben jumped, wild-eyed.

  “You must leave him locked in, for your own safety,” said Karl.

  “I can’t leave him there forever!” Ben’s voice was cracked and raw, and he rubbed at his larynx, coughing between words.

  “I suggest you summon medical help. However, it will take strong men to restrain him.”

  “My God - are you suggesting... an asylum?”

  They looked at each other as Lancelyn’s hellish groans mapped his agitated, random movement around the chamber.

  “What do you think?” Karl said coldly.

  Ben raised both hands to rub at his face and neck. “I was meant to protect him! I was so busy thinking the threats were all outside - I never thought the danger was in bed with him! God forgive me!”

  Karl took his arm, impersonal but firm. “Come away,” he said. “We should find Violette, before she does any more harm.”

  He led Ben back to the main room. He’d expected Violette to flee, but she was standing below the central window like a supplicant before an altar. Slim as a lily-stem, trembling faintly, she was untouchable. The window, showing the Serpent in the Garden of Eden, spilled ruby and emerald light over her.

  Charlotte was with Katerina and Andreas, watching from a distance.

  “Was that her first taste of blood?” asked Karl, resting his hands on her shoulders.

  “Yes, it was,” Charlotte murmured, softening and leaning into his touch. “She gave in at last.”

  “Nothing more devastating. We never forget that first taste. Poor Lancelyn, to have been her prey... though perhaps he deserved it.”

  Ben rasped, “You witch! You might as well have murdered him!”

  Violette spun to face him. “What have I done?” Her voice was flint-hard with fury. “He began this. What about the evil he’s done to me?”

  “How dare you -”

  “He forced me to take his blood! Forced me. If he hadn’t, I would never -”

  She stopped, bowing her head, hands cupping her elbows.

  Karl said, “That isn’t true. The thirst would have overcome you eventually, whatever the circumstances.”

  “No.”

  “This is monstrous!” said Ben. “Lancelyn didn’t deserve this! He acted from the highest motives.”

  “He was deluding himself,” said Karl. “His motives were as selfish as could be. He sought immortality and power by taking an incredible risk. The vampire’s bite can bring madness; he must have known this. He was a fool to imagine that enlightenment would come from it. But he thought he was different, superior to everyone else.”

  “What I did to Lancelyn was horrible,” Violette said suddenly. “But he thinks he’s found what he wanted. He believes he’s become the Serpent of the Tree of Knowledge. Yet he’s merely mad. Is that not horrifying?”

  “You’re mocking me,” Ben said hoarsely. “God, Karl, can’t you get her out of here? I want her away from Lancelyn!”

  “Where were his precious envoys?” Andreas put in sardonically. “Why didn’t they save him?”

  Violette said, “They’ve gone.”

  “We know,” said Karl, “but how?”

  “I tried to do what they asked but I couldn’t. I’m fated to disobey them. That was why they left. I wanted to obey - I thought if I surrendered, I might be saved - but I cannot stop being this -this thing for trying.”

  Charlotte left Karl and approached the dancer. Her deep-lidded smoky eyes were full of questions, compassion. She was pure warmth in Karl’s eyes; golden-bronze and russet, aglow like autumn, while Violette was stark black and white. And Charlotte’s obvious love for her still twisted his heart. Karl felt Katerina move close to him, her hand sliding through his arm.

  “Are you any closer to understanding what you are?” Charlotte asked gently. She extended a hand, but Violette jerked away, stared sullenly from Karl to the others, her arms folded defensively. Unpredictable passions coiled in her eyes.

  “I was reborn yesterday, but I feel ancient. My birth was painful, but when it was over I was five thousand years old. I remember being Lilith, the Mother of Vampires. I am Lilith.”

  No one spoke or drew a breath. They all saw that she was different, a black sun shining on them. She went on, “I know what I am, and yet I don’t. I can’t explain. All I know is that I am damned forever because I disobeyed God. His messengers came and gave me a new chance of redemption by lying underneath a disgusting man with too high an opinion of himself. I could not give them what they wanted. Neither Lancelyn nor I were what others thought. He was pride and I was the fall. A sacred marriage of Heaven and Earth, Benedict?” She spoke with contempt. “It was just a nasty, degrading fumbling - but he didn’t succeed. I won’t be possessed by anyone. I obey no one, not even God.” She laughed. “I can’t even obey myself! If I am a monster, Charlotte, you made me so.”

  “I hate to suggest this,” said Andreas, “but is it possible that she is the leader who is going to replace Kristian? Even he used
to call Lilith our mother, our creatrix.”

  Violette’s arms tightened around herself. “I wasn’t sent to lead you! I was sent to bring chaos! My business isn’t to guide you, but make your lives hell. And I hope I do, because mine is hell.”

  Her gaze was on Charlotte, blue flames of passionate hatred.

  “That is unfair,” Charlotte retorted. At last, a spark of anger.

  “I can’t live with this evil, I can’t bear the thirst!”

  “Yes, you can.” Charlotte seized her arms and wouldn’t let her go. “You tell me this was your fate, then you blame me for it; you can’t have it both ways. Take responsibility for yourself. Accept the thirst. It’s part of you now!”

  “Give me your blood, then.” Violette’s lips drew back and Karl saw her white fangs extending. Charlotte pulled back, startled, but the dancer’s hands flew out and held her. “What’s wrong? You were so eager to give it before. You took my life - give me something back!”

  Karl and Katerina were moving towards them, too late. With a lithe twist, Violette bore Charlotte down and pressed her onto the hard floor. “Why didn’t you end my life, as I asked? I’ll end yours, for what you’ve done to me!”

  Karl clamped his hands on Violette’s shoulders, but her strength was immense, her limbs pliable yet immoveable. Her mouth was open, her long hard fangs a breath away from Charlotte’s throat. Karl held her there but could not shift her; it was like trying to prise a limpet from a rock. Then Andreas came to help and at last, inch by inch, they hauled Violette away.

  Katerina helped Charlotte to her feet, and drew her away protectively. Still Violette went on straining towards her in Karl’s grip, eerily quiet in her rage, a lethal black sea-serpent. Charlotte’s face was alight with hurt and anger.

  “I think I’d better take her away from here,” said Katerina, holding Charlotte’s arm.

  “Yes, go, both of you,” said Karl.

  “No!” Charlotte cried. “Let me talk to her.”

  “She’s not listening to reason,” Karl said tightly. It took all his and Andrei’s combined strength to hold her. “Go with Katti. I’ll find you later, don’t worry. Go, before she breaks free!”

  “Don’t bother with Ben’s car, it’s broken down,” said Andreas.

  Finally seeing that Karl was right, that the danger from Violette was real, Charlotte let Katerina take her to the central doors that led towards the entrance hall. She looked back over her shoulder, distressed. “Karl, don’t hurt her!”

  Karl felt empty amusement. There was far more chance of Violette injuring him - and still Charlotte was concerned for her.

  When the two women had gone, he felt Violette relax, but did not ease his grip. He didn’t trust her. Ben, who’d been listening in silence, said bitterly, “I’ve had enough. Get her out, Karl, I mean it. I never want to see any of you, ever again.”

  “That sentiment is mutual.”

  Ben gave a grunt of disgust. “I’m going to see how my brother is.”

  As he strode out, Andreas said, “Well, what the hell are we going to do?”

  “Keep her here for as long as necessary.”

  “Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here!” the dancer said coldly.

  “I was answering my friend’s question,” said Karl. “Whatever your grievance against Charlotte, I can’t allow you to harm her.”

  “Who are you to ‘allow’ me anything?” Her voice fell, losing its clarity. “She did this to me. I said yes, but she’d cajoled me, she never told me how it would be! Don’t tell me what to do. You don’t know how I feel.”

  Andreas said in exasperation, “Do you think you’re the only one who’s ever suffered? It’s hard for us all. The blood is the consolation, not the penance!”

  “You don’t know what the blood is to me!”

  Karl shook his head to silence Andreas. He said more gently, “Violette, please calm down so we can talk.”

  “Why in hell’s name would you want to talk to me? You hate me! Leave me alone so I can think.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” Karl said wearily. “I don’t trust you.”

  “You’re under an illusion if you think there’s anything you can say to make me feel better, or calm me down, or make me into a sweet-natured beauty like your Stefan. I am in agony! I don’t need anyone to tell me how I should feel. I need no one to care, because I don’t care a damn for any of you.” Violette seemed relaxed in Karl’s hands now, light and poised. “Lancelyn degraded me, but what I did was worse.”

  She caught her breath on the last words, sobbed. And before Karl felt her move, she slipped from his hands and was racing out of the door after Katti and Charlotte.

  Karl and Andreas gave chase. Outside was a landing, a magnificent flight of stairs curving down to the hall and an ironclad oak door standing open to the hillside. But no sign of Violette.

  “God, she’s fled into the Crystal Ring,” said Karl.

  “But Charlotte and Katti can’t; they were too weak,” said Andreas. “And I can’t. You?”

  Karl stretched his senses towards the astral realm, felt nothing. Rasmila’s strength had deserted him. He shook his head, started downstairs. “Simon and his friends have handicapped us, but we still have our feet. Our only hope is that Violette doesn’t know the Ring. She’ll be disorientated and lose her way.”

  * * *

  “I don’t want to leave her,” Charlotte said as they ran down the valley. “If I could only talk to her...”

  “She wasn’t listening,” said Katerina. “You can’t see how dangerous she is!”

  “Of course I can! That doesn’t mean I can desert her.”

  “Do stop arguing. Give her a chance to calm down, at least.”

  The hills were ghostly in the lingering mist. Although vampire sight could cut through the haze, Charlotte felt drenched and chilled. She was light-headed with hunger. Since the angels fed on her, it would take time for her full strength to return. Until then, weakness bound her to Earth and muffled her senses.

  Through a mass of coppery mist-veiled trees she saw houses up on the hillsides, cottages along the winding valley.

  As they passed Ben’s broken-down car, Katerina said, “We’ll soon find another motor.” Then she stopped, her hand on Charlotte’s arm.

  They heard the deep slow chuff of an engine, a shrill whistle, saw clouds of white steam rising beyond the trees.

  “The train!” said Katerina. “Nothing could be easier.”

  Charlotte laughed. So bizarre, to be fleeing on foot and rushing through the barrier of the tiny station like fugitives. What must we look like? Neither was wearing a coat. She was so dizzy with hunger she feared she must look drunk to onlookers.

  Katerina guided her onto the platform; Charlotte hadn’t seen her buy tickets, but it was easy to seduce officials with a certain look. A cold breeze blew along the line. Charlotte was only half-aware of climbing into the train through the steam billowing from the engine, of following Katerina down the narrow corridor to a compartment. Only two empty seats out of six. The train moved off as they sat down side by side. The other passengers were looking while pretending not to look.

  The aroma of human blood all around was a virulent itch that Charlotte could not relieve. How strange this all appeared through her blood-delirium. Years since I was on a train, she thought, taking in the polished wood and neat brass fittings, the gas-lamps, the worn upholstery ingrained with the smell of tobacco. How drab the other passengers were in their dark blues and browns. There were two middle-aged women talking, a round-faced schoolgirl pressing her nose to the window while her well-dressed mother read a book and smoked. The blue skeins from her cigarette rose towards the ceiling, mingling with the sulphurous stink of the engine.

  The noise and stench wrapped around Charlotte like armour, protecting her from the piercing tug of blood. I can’t feed on these people, she thought. How ordinary they are. I’ve spent all my time with Karl and Katerina, with Stefan and Violette... It’s a
s if I’d forgotten these people existed! I used to live among them. I used to be like them. How dull, how prosaic, and yet...

  They spoke to her of safety. Of homeliness, kindness, humour. The wondrous, ordinary world that she had lost.

  Charlotte bit her lip against sudden tears, closed her eyes. Katerina touched her hand and said, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Just the hunger,” Charlotte murmured.

  One of the women, rosy-cheeked under the wide brim of her hat, leaned across and said, “Hungry, are you, me duck? Here you are, I’ve got some sandwiches. Brought ’em fer’ t’ journey, but you look us if you need ’em more than us.”

  Charlotte stared aghast at the greasy white package that the woman was waving under her nose. “No - no thank you, I couldn’t. Really.”

  The woman sat back, tutting good-naturedly. “You young people don’t eat properly. They don’t, do they, Mabel? Well, they’re here if you change yer mind, love.”

  “Thank you,” said Katerina. “My friend is a little unwell.”

  “Eeh, ah’m not surprised, running about wi’out y’coats on, you’ll catch your death. What are you thinking of? You young people.”

  Her friend, Mabel, nodded sagely. They meant no offence, Charlotte knew; they were a pair of mother hens, generous-hearted, not a bad thought in their heads. And she wanted to take them, and -

  “My friend needs peace and quiet. Excuse us,” said Katerina. She turned in towards Charlotte, pointedly cutting off their eager expressions of concern.

  “I’m all right,” Charlotte whispered. “Just light-headed.” Outside the window, hills and deep autumnal valleys rushed by. “And you?”

  “I’ll survive. I think we have to change trains for London. I’ll ask when the guard comes.”

  “Ooh, no, me duck!” said the woman. “This train’s fer London, from Manchester, straight through. Long way t’go wi’out food.” She made to thrust the repellent package at them again, but Katerina stared at her, and she fell silent. Charlotte knew how easy, how very easy it would be to bewitch them all, the kind women and the immaculate mother and her child, to bite into their lovely red flesh...