A Dance in Blood Velvet (7 page)

He bent to kiss her. She stretched her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his; eager, loving. A ruby-red flare of desire and thirst reminded Charlotte where she belonged now. Nothing mattered except being with Karl, and the taste of blood was a bitter-sweet ecstasy above all others. This was real; a distant figure on a painted stage was not.

“Come with me, dearest,” he whispered, “into the Crystal Ring.”

She went with him gladly. Like a doll in a music box, Violette pirouetted in a corner of her mind.

* * *

Deirdre stood at the post-box, the letter in her gloved hand.

How can I send it?
she thought.
If Ben knows already, he’ll realise I’ve broken a binding oath to write this. But if he doesn’t, it’ll break his heart.

Ben, forgive me for not telling you face to face. I couldn’t find the words. And if you think I’m a coward, don’t judge me until you’re as frightened as I am.

She loosed the letter, heard it fall into the darkness of the box.

A few minutes later, she was on the platform, waiting for the train that would take her to the ferry and safety. The occult had been her whole life, the Neophytes of Meter Theon her family... but all she wanted now was to escape. The wind blew fresh in her face and she tasted freedom. In her mind she saw the deep greens and the lovely, cloud-veiled mountains of Ireland.

Then - she heard the beast coming.

Again it began as a deep, rhythmic snuffling noise. A huge blind pig. She looked along the track in panic and saw the creature nosing towards her. The great eyeless head, the steam pouring from its joints, and the terrible stink of metal and oil...

She was dizzy. The day turned dark and the crowd on the platform vanished. Deirdre was alone in a land of demons.

It’s only my imagination
, she told herself.
Ben said it’s only in my mind! If I stand and face the beast, it will go away.

Her heart was racing hard as she moved to the platform edge. It was clear she must do this.
You don’t exist,
she thought, jumping down onto the track. She flung up her hands, chanting a banishing spell, but the demon came on, huge, deafening, wreathed in steam. She yelled aloud, “You don’t -”

Her cry was lost in the scream of brakes. The weight of the beast bore her down, crushed her, and passed blindly on.

A
s the atmosphere enfolded the Earth, so the Crystal Ring surrounded a warped aspect of it that only immortals could enter. Some vampires equated it with hell, others with heaven. Karl and Charlotte had their own theories. Like the universe itself, it could be explained a hundred different ways and no explanation could yet be proved.

Hand in hand, they let the world around them change. Trees became rustling black spires, walls snapped into impossible perspectives. Any witnesses would have seen Karl and Charlotte vanish.

At ground level the Ring was a dark, demonic hall of mirrors, but its sky flowed with fire and liquid light. Karl and Charlotte soared upwards. The air bore their weight like water. Ahead floated a great ridge, a cloud-hill in constant motion like a wave of gold-dappled glass. This realm was like an epic sky painted by a deranged visionary, suffused with the light of heaven and the glow of hell. Far above, canyons soared up towards thunderous mountains, stained blood-red and purple. Like clouds, these features condensed from air then frayed to nothingness in an endless ocean-blue void.

Radiant lines shimmered like an aurora, exerting a weird pull. This was the magnetic field of the Earth, made tangible and visible to immortals; the only constant by which they could navigate.

The structure of this realm, according to Charlotte, was created by mankind’s collective subconscious, by the electrical outflow of minds. And its energy could warp humans into vampires, because vampires represented the most extreme of human emotions; the fear of death and of the dead returning to life; the desire for power and immortality.

There must be even more, Karl thought, but her theory was easier to accept than Kristian’s doctrine: that this was the mind of a God who used vampires as pitiless envoys.

Karl also wondered if the Ring was simply a matter of altered perceptions. Their bodies were different here, as objects in water appear distorted. They became dark, thin demons, their earthly garments also changing beyond recognition into spangled webs. Clothes, small personal possessions; the Ring, following its own capricious laws, would rarely allow anything heavier to be brought here.

The Crystal Ring was empty, alien, hostile. Its sheer size was enough to provoke insanity. It could be lethally cold, even to vampires. Yet there was endless fascination in its wildness. The exhilaration of flying, climbing, floating in its strange atmosphere could be fatally addictive.

No vampire could avoid the Crystal Ring. It made them what they were. Only in its frigid arms could they find the rest denied them on Earth - but if they stayed too long, the Ring might keep them forever.

The distant moan of a gale rose and fell around them... then Karl sensed shapes around him, shadows printed on the clouds. He remembered the last time - when he’d been so shocked that he sprang out of the Ring in full view of a human.

He controlled the lash of fear, caught Charlotte’s arm and held her.
“Liebling,
do you feel someone nearby, watching us?”

She turned slowly, blinking, her eyes like golden glass in her lovely darkened face. Her hair floated against a dark blue void. “No. Who was it?”

The feeling vanished. “No one,” said Karl. “Imagination.”

“Are you sure? It’s not like you to imagine things.” She looked drowsy. He too felt tiredness creeping over him.

“The Ring is enough, without conjuring anything worse.”

“Perhaps it was Ilona.”

“No,” he said.

“She never hated you, Karl,” Charlotte said sleepily. “Not in her heart.” She stretched and turned over like a swimmer. “The Crystal Ring feels cold tonight. I am so tired.”

“Then rest.” Lying outstretched on the sapphire ether, as if floating face down in the sea, Karl put his arm over her waist, his head on her shoulder. He felt her sigh faintly as she sank into meditation; and he let go of his own thoughts, and touched infinity.

* * *

This was the nearest state to sleep that vampires could enjoy. All emotion suspended, Charlotte gazed in a trance at waves rising and falling, golden-bronze against indigo; the world shrouded in shadow far below. Her mind wandered, not into dreams, but through strange waking visions...

She imagined herself in an elegant garden; a terrace, wide lawns, trees and pools all silvered by moonlight. A huge plane tree cast a shadow on the grass. This was Parkland Hall, her aunt’s house, where all her most vivid passions had flowered; where Karl had turned from friend to lover, in those sweetly innocent days before she knew what he was. The garden would haunt her forever, even if she never set foot there again. It had become a realm in its own right: the secret landscape of her mind, symbolising all fulfilment and all loss.

Her friend Anne was sitting with her on a marble balustrade that bounded the terrace. And Charlotte conjured a scene that she knew would never take place in real life...

Their friendship had ended in bitter words. Who could blame Anne for rejecting what Charlotte had become? Still, it hurt. The wound gaped open and stung with salt.

Yet here they were together. Anne was clearly nervous of her skin’s pale glow and the brilliance of her eyes, but Charlotte said, “It’s not so terrible. Please believe me. I’ve so wanted to come back and explain.”

“I dreamed you would,” said Anne. “I regretted the way we parted, dreadful things I said. Who am I to condemn you? The shell
seems
evil, but there’s mystery and beauty inside.”

“Beauty can be a warning of poison. I didn’t know until it was too late; that was my downfall. But not yours, Anne; you have more sense.”

“Have I? That’s my trouble. I never understood what you were going through. I was only there to pick you up when you fell...”

“No. You remained yourself
because
it didn’t touch you.”

“Perhaps. But I couldn’t help wondering... was almost envious, in a way. What an awful thing to admit.”

Charlotte said softly, “Dearest... I had no idea.” She rested a hand on Anne’s neck and stroked her throat. Anne shivered, but her eyes were fearless, captivated.

“I’ll never forget you, Charli. I’ll never stop wondering what I missed.”

Charlotte shook her head, helpless. Then she drew Anne towards her and they embraced. How she’d longed for this. Forgiveness, acceptance. How it had hurt, losing her dearest friend in such rancour. “If you really want to know, I won’t deny you.”

She bit into Anne’s neck and swallowed. The blood tasted like champagne. Anne did not pull away, only made a faint noise in her throat. Charlotte stopped, and they held each other hard; friends, blood-sisters. This was a bond between them forever.

“But don’t have bad dreams, dearest,” Charlotte whispered. “It’s also a gesture of love.”

Anne smiled. With an arm around Charlotte’s waist, she turned and said, “Look.”

There on the dew-grey lawn danced a spirit in white satin and net; Violette Lenoir, the ghost of Giselle.

The scene vanished, like a bubble.

A vision beyond a daydream. Almost real - but false. They were not Anne’s words, not her sentiments. Charlotte lived with the hard truth: that she would never see Anne again.

* * *

A dart of cold stung Karl to alertness. Something felt wrong. He looked around and saw black shadows undulating over the contours of the Crystal Ring, the hills changing shape like storm clouds on a strong wind. The watchers again?

No, nothing there. The moods of the Ring were changeable. A stream of coldness flowed heavily over him, and he knew it was time to return home. He tightened his arm around Charlotte’s waist, trying to rouse her gently, but she woke with a start.

“Oh, is it time?” she said reluctantly. “I was so far away.”

“We should go back. Are you cold?”

“I wasn’t until I moved... but yes, it’s freezing. And I’m thirsty.”

The ether was a vast flow of ultramarine glass around them. Long strands of cloud traversed the blueness. The two vampires were fantastical sculptures of jet and coal-black lace, tiny against the rolling skyscape.

Below them, against a fleecy cloud, Karl saw a thin greyish shape. He touched Charlotte’s arm. “There’s someone down there, do you see?”

“Yes. But they look...”

She didn’t utter the word “dead”, but Karl had the same feeling. The vampire looked rigid, like a dark cross against the whiteness. As they drew closer, Karl saw no lustre on its skin, no cobweb wings to add grace. It looked starved, scoured, brittle. It was floating helpless in the Ring like driftwood.

Charlotte said anxiously, “Can you tell if it’s someone you know?”

“Not yet.” They were curving swiftly downwards. “Slow down. Be careful.”

“This is what happens if we stay too long, isn’t it?” she said faintly. “We grow too cold to escape, and starve.”

They landed on the cloud, their feet sinking into its substance as it just bore their weight, like honey. Karl bent down to the creature. A stick figure, coated with ash; the face was blurred. Grief thrummed inside him. Charlotte uttered a moan of pity and horror.

“I think she’s female, but I’ve no idea who she is,” he said. “She must have been here a very long time. We’re too late.”

“What shall we do?”

“Leave her.”

Karl touched the creature’s thin arm. Searing cold bit him, so fierce it bonded his hand to the arm and he couldn’t pull free.

“What is it?” Charlotte, alarmed, tried to help him.

“Mein Gott,”
he said. “Don’t touch her! She’s deadly cold. I think she’s come down from the
Weisskalt.”

Charlotte glanced up, as if seeking a gap in the thunderous clouds far above. But the
Weisskalt
, the frigid outer skin, was too far above to be visible. Binding her tattered false-wings around her hands to protect them, she said, “I’ll bite my wrist and squeeze blood on your hand to free you. You’ll tear the skin otherwise.”

Karl began to say, “No -” when the stick-creature thrashed into life and seized him. Its body was not fragile but heavy as stone, the thin limbs as strong as steel. Ice flared through him. He saw Charlotte over its shoulder, her eyes wide as she tried to drag the demon off him. Then he felt its fangs sink like sharp thick fossils into his neck.

There was nothing harder to fight than a starving vampire. Karl couldn’t escape. He was paralysed, his ears full of the creature’s convulsive swallowing. His blood leapt painfully through his veins, pulsing out of him in time to the numbing suction of the mouth.

He struggled, suppressing panic. It was vital his senses remained clear. “Charlotte, we must leave the Crystal Ring. Guide us down. Quickly, before she takes all my strength.”

As he spoke, he sensed another vampire drawing close. No surprise, to see another dark form winging alongside Charlotte -red and violet glints on a swirl of blackness - nor to hear Ilona’s light, abrupt voice.

“We’ll take him together. One on each side.”

“Hurry,” said Charlotte. No time to be startled by Ilona’s appearance, only to be glad of her help. “Don’t touch the creature, she’s freezing.”

Ilona retorted, “She’ll soon be warm as toast, if we don’t prise her off my father.”

The Crystal Ring spiralled as Karl fell in the vampire’s grip. Ghastly, this helplessness. As his energy was stolen with his blood, he feared he would plunge through thin air to Earth - or be stranded in the Ring without hope of escape.

But he felt sure hands on his arms, drawing him down curving paths of ether towards the lake of shadows below. All the time Karl battled to keep his bearings, and to prise the ravening blood-drinker out of his flesh.

She was taking everything. Heat, strength, will. And as she surged frantically back to life, her
self
touched Karl and he realised who she was.