The Dark Arts of Blood (36 page)

“I don’t think so,” said Emil. “You shouldn’t have brought me here, Fadiya.”

“Yes, why did you bring him?” said Wolfgang. “The last I heard, you were a make-up girl, not our casting director.”

“I thought… Clearly I’ve made a mistake,” she said thinly.

“Wait,” said Reiniger.

“You can go to hell,” said Emil. “You can all go to hell!”

With that he made for the door, slammed it behind him, marched down the steps. He heard the door open again. Fadiya came running after him and grabbed his elbow.

“What’s wrong with you?” she snarled. “You’ve made me look a complete fool – I thought you’d be magnificent on screen – what was all that?”

He sank down on the bottom step and dropped his head on to his arms.

“I
met
you covered in the bruises they’d left on me! How can you work for those men? They’re evil.”

“I only do the make-up. I don’t know about their political views. They don’t tell the womenfolk anything. We’re expected to smile and agree with everything they say – that doesn’t mean I care about it. It’s nothing to do with me.”

Tears came. He couldn’t stop them. He began to sob, shoulders heaving.

“Emil? What’s wrong?”

He wanted to be angry with her, too, but her arm across his shoulders felt comforting. She was the only friend he had.

“My older brother, Alfonso,” he said at last. “I never talk of this. It’s not safe. He opposed Mussolini. He tried to assassinate him – and he wasn’t the only dissenter who’s tried in the last couple of years – well, Alfonso took a shot at him and missed. The crowd lynched him in the street. Before the police even got to him, he was dead, hanged from a tree.”

“My dear, I’m sorry.”

“
That’s
why I despise Godric Reiniger and everyone like him. Once they get into power, anyone who opposes them is scum to be killed like a dog. And no one ever sees the danger until it’s too late.”

* * *

Godric walked high into the hills, alone, welcoming the chill of the wind. Usually the low music of cowbells soothed him, but not today. The green meadows and the dancing wildflowers of spring failed to lift his spirits. He was furious with Amy, irritated at Dr Ochsner for dying so inconveniently, annoyed by Emil Fiorani’s ridiculous outburst.

Those concerns were gnat-bites when he thought about Karl von Wultendorf. He could not get Karl out of his mind. Godric dissected every moment of their meeting: satisfied that he’d forced him to watch the film, then seething when he remembered how calm Karl had been afterwards, his face tranquil, his eyes dark and cold. The way he’d left without a word.

Godric had simply let him go. There must be more to say, but what?

Far below, on a patch of grass behind the house, a curl of smoke went up. He had set fire to the movie he’d made of Karl murdering his father. What was the point of keeping it, now the perpetrator had seen it and barely raised an eyebrow?

“I thought that would be the end of the matter,” Godric murmured aloud.
I’d show him, then kill him – or he would kill me. But it did not happen. I have not finished with him yet. This feels like a beginning, not an end. A beginning.

He clenched and unclenched his fists as he stared up at the lace-veiled peaks of the Alps. All his anger fell away and he felt a rush of exhilaration.

“How can this kingdom exist and be anything but mine?”

The power-rush he’d absorbed from Bruno’s death had not faded. It felt like bristling white energy, so strong he almost expected it to burst through his skin like porcupine quills. Everything was changing. The
Eidgenossen
respected him more, now they’d seen how far he was prepared to go. They’d always treated him with deference; now they were downright terrified, but that was good. They knew he meant business.

Godric had no intention of replacing Bruno, even if the missing
sikin
was found. In fact, he might have to cull more of them. Each sacrifice would increase his power, until all he had left was a tight core of, say, ten men. His ten strongest supporters.

He paid lip service to the
Rütlischwur
oath of fellowship, the confederation of equal partners on which Switzerland was founded. History was all around him: the
Rütli
meadow in which the vow was made overlooked Lake Lucerne, and the three oath-takers were nicknamed the “Three Tells”, the legendary figures from whom he derived the title of his next film.

Secretly, though, Godric had had enough of confederations. He insisted on comradeship between his followers, but in his visions they all turned towards
him
: the glowing white sun at the centre.

Lucerne would become the seat of government, Bergwerkstatt his presidential palace, and Godric himself a new kind of god-emperor.

A very modest, artistic god-emperor whose work will be revered and adored.
He gave a tight smile.
Anyone who dares to laugh will himself
become
a work of art, like Bruno
.

A shadow darkened the corner of his eye. Fadiya tended to appear obliquely from nowhere, as if she just happened to be strolling in the same area.

He sat down on a fallen tree trunk and waited with grim patience. She approached like a piece of night intruding on the day, appearing to draw closer frame-by-frame rather than in a smooth continuous motion.

“Godric,” she said, sitting down beside him. They looked across the town and the lake, not at each other. “I must apologise for bringing Emil to the house.”

“Why did you?”

“I wanted to steal him from Violette. However, I misjudged his state of mind. I’m sorry. It will not happen again.”

Godric gave a
hmph
of caustic indifference. “I’m not interested in what you want. Why should you be jealous of a mere human, regardless of how beautiful and famous she is?”

Fadiya paused. Although he had no love for her, she was quiet, sombre company, and he’d grown to appreciate that. All the same, his hand slid around the handle of the
sikin
that he kept sheathed in his pocket.

“I know it seems foolish to you, but Emil loves Violette so yes, I am jealous of her. And I wanted to bring you a gift: Emil.”

“A gift for me?” Godric was so surprised that he laughed.

“He would have been wonderful in your movies. I’m sorry it went wrong, but you have no liking for Madame Lenoir, either, do you?”

He shrugged. “I am indifferent to her. However, something odd has happened. She has invited me to a party – invited my whole household, in fact – which suggests she’s reconsidered her hasty rejection of Reiniger Studios’ services.”

“Will you go?”

“Why not? My personal power is all very well, but of no use unless I gain support from, or influence over, every person of importance that I can draw into my orbit. So if she’s of a mind to befriend me, you had better not sabotage things.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said in the same cool velvet tone. “If you want to court her favour in order to advance your ambitions, I support you, completely.”

“Indeed?”

“I said we could help each other.” Another long silence, then Fadiya asked, “Who was that man the other night?”

“Which one? I have many visitors.”

“You know who I mean.”

“Do you
ever
stop watching me?” he growled.

“You are not that fascinating. Most human activities are so dull that only one in a thousand is worth a second glance. But when something of interest happens, I am there. Did you know he’s a vampire?”

Godric knew, but the bluntness of her statement shocked him.

“Of course,” he snapped. And he told her, briefly, the tale of how Karl had killed his father. “He came to find me because he knows Emil. Apparently he knows Madame Lenoir, too. But he had no idea who I was! He didn’t remember. I was nothing to him, nothing – until I
told
him.”

“That could have been dangerous.”

“But I have the
sakakin
. I’m his equal in strength… or could be.”

“Be careful,” Fadiya said gently.

“I’m not afraid of him. Don’t you see
this
?” Godric stretched out an arm to demonstrate the spiky power radiating from his body. Nothing showed in the sunlight. Fadiya blinked, unimpressed.

“I advise you to stay away from him. I’ve seen him around the ballet, and other vampires too, but I can’t go too close, in case they recognise what I am.”

“Do you know this Karl?”

“No. I’d never seen him before I came here. But I’m glad you told me, Godric, and I’m sorry about your father. If it’s revenge you want… we should talk again. Soon.”

Fadiya vanished, stepping into thin air. For a moment Godric saw the hint of another world, all grey-violet mist, so tantalising. The ingress snapped shut behind her but the feeling stayed with him: that if he could only absorb enough power, he could pass through the paper-thin membrane into Fadiya’s mysterious world where all knowledge would become his.

Godric got to his feet and climbed higher. Clouds rolled down the mountains, enveloping him. He breathed the thick wet air, pushing out the tendrils of his new power to touch that tantalising other-world…

A shape appeared. Not Fadiya. This apparition was pale, like a swirl of snow and fog, with fair hair rippling to her waist. She had her back to him, but as he stood there, trying to comprehend what he was seeing, she turned slowly to face him.

Clearly not human. Some kind of ghost? Her form rippled and her eyes were beautiful, blank, staring straight through him. Her lips parted. To his own humiliation, he fell to his knees in sheer terror.

Godric was so overwhelmed that he started to sob in joy. Obvious what she was! One of the
Weisse Frauen
, the white ladies: the elf-like beings of the mountains, demi-gods of Alpine legend.

More than that. Surely she was none other than Frau Perchta, the white goddess, consort of Berchtold himself. The Bright One, the Alpine folk called her.

Very slow and cautious, he rose and went towards her. Surely she would retreat or fade – but she stayed where she was, reeling him in with her lovely, glistening, terrifying eyes.

She was real. And she was welcoming him to her world. Telling him without words,
Welcome, Godric. Here I am at your bidding. Soon you will be one with us.

S
tefan knew how to throw a party, not least in ensuring that everyone enjoyed themselves without the police being called. As Charlotte and Karl emerged from the Crystal Ring and walked down the footpath from the road, they saw the chalet transformed. Strings of coloured lanterns adorned every balcony and shone in the trees like clouds of fireflies. Even the lake shore beyond was lit up to guide the less sober away from the water’s edge. The place looked like a fairytale palace. The front doors were wide open and hired waiters stood ready to take coats and serve champagne as the guests arrived.

Charlotte’s heart lifted. For an instant, she felt like a child at Christmas.

“He’s made a beautiful display,” she said. “I think I might enjoy myself. Is that allowed?”

“It’s not why we’re here, but I won’t try to stop you,” Karl said drily. He glanced across at some vehicles parked on the grass to one side. “It looks as if Herr Reiniger and his crew are here already. Your plan worked.”

The party was officially Violette’s. Persuaded by Charlotte, though reluctant, she had issued the invitations, and no one would refuse the chance to meet her. Not even the haughty Godric Reiniger.

A queue of guests jostled to enter the chalet, all in fashionable finery. Charlotte suspected half of them didn’t have invitations. Word of mouth drew them here.

However, Violette had invited no one from the ballet. Instead she’d scheduled a compulsory evening rehearsal.

Her purpose was to keep Emil away from Fadiya.

Heads turned as Charlotte and Karl stepped into the entrance hall. Charlotte loved the feel of her luxurious new dress against her skin, the floaty layers of silk voile in the sunset shades that she loved. Karl had gazed at her for at least five minutes in mute wonder. She’d basked in his appreciation, admiring him in return. In his formal black evening suit he looked utterly breathtaking; now they both stole the breath of the other party-goers. Charlotte found the sensation self-indulgent but very pleasing.

Some might notice the looks they exchanged, the light touches that set off rippling hot waves of magnetism between them. No one would guess the reason for their agonising self-restraint. Exquisite pain.

She could not even feel the corpse-cold presence of the lamia. Had it gone at last? Would it really matter if they gave in to desire later? Karl had been so understanding, so restrained… both pretending that this was not half-killing them.

“My dear friends.” Stefan rushed to greet them, Niklas at his shoulder. “Welcome. What did I say about that dress? Charlotte, you look exquisite.
Divine
.”

As they exchanged kisses, she whispered, “Who is here?”

“Herr Reiniger and friends – although I’ve seen no one resembling your Fadiya.”