The Dark Arts of Blood (61 page)

He needed to feed. So did she.

“This is why I had to hide, and change,” he said. “I am neither and both. Outcast.”

Violette was more than startled. She couldn’t gather words to express her reaction; mainly a sense of wonder, fascination. In the surface world, such anomalies were never discussed, except between doctors. Then her deeper wisdom kicked in, running a score of ancient tales through her mind.

“Both male and female,” she said at last. “Why not? Do not tell me you are
nothing
.”

“What am I, then? What does your black crone goddess say about this?”

“She tells me that people are always terrified of anything unusual. They blame it on devils or gods. However, nature knows better. Just because something is rare, that does not make it unnatural. Don’t you have the best of both worlds?”

“I hardly think so.”

“But you could. You’re a vampire, not bound by human conventions. I see how the archetype of Zruvan would fit you – the primordial void that came before male and female?”

“Yes. No place for gender at all.”

“But ancient myths are full of androgynes. Adam and Eve, Lilith and Samael… there are stories of androgynous creatures being split into male and female by the gods, or of male and female fusing back into one, perfect being. Long ago, hermaphrodites, or those who changed their sex or had no clear gender at all, were treated as sacred. They were priests. Magical beings.”

“Then I was born too late.”

“Perhaps you were. But you didn’t come into the world without precedent.”

Now she saw Zruvan-Kurgara differently; not a young male, but man and woman in perfect balance. The moment imprinted on her mind, transcendent: the vast dome of the Milky Way and billions of stars above them, the wind moaning across the sculpted infinity of the desert, and this exquisite, slender boy-girl lying before her, head tilted back as he-she revealed mysteries.

“So I’m not unique? Not the first?”

“And far from the last. It’s a quality of the angels, to be both female and male. Rare, but no cause for shame. And think: as a vampire, an immortal, you can be anything you wish. Human prejudice has no power over you.”

“Humans don’t concern me. But my followers do. If I am no longer their protector, but a being they don’t even recognise… What am I? Even Fadiya will spurn me. She was my dearest companion, but I could never be a true husband to her. She even chose your dancer above me, and I do not blame her.”

“I can’t fault her devotion to you.” Violette was bemused to think of Kurgara and Fadiya as husband and wife. How could they be, while he secluded himself in that terrible pit? Little wonder that Fadiya might turn to Emil in sheer sorrow and loneliness.

“I kissed her once, when I found her near death in the desert. After, she only ever saw the death-headed monster. She loved me anyway…
because
she never saw what lay beneath.”

“Exchange blood with me,” said Violette. “Only a sip. Everything will be clearer then.”

The youth looked uncertain, but did not try to fight as she leaned in, put her arms around the slim shoulders and took a sip from the tender neck. The fluid tasted appalling, like hot metal and ashes, but she forced herself to swallow.

Whatever poison his blood contained, she was strong enough to tolerate it. She must.

She thought she might even develop a taste for it.

The warmth inside her grew more insistent, a distinct stirring of desire. Kurgara was beautiful, and female enough to snare her interest… but so young, at least in appearance. So naïve, with all the trappings of Zruvan stripped away.

Violette pulled her blood-sodden dress and undergarments off, relieved to be free of the damp clinging fabric. Naked, she lay down on the smooth rock beside Kurgara.

She never did things like this. True, she’d had her moments with Charlotte, with Robyn – even with Karl, in bizarre circumstances – but her nature was solitary and reticent. She could not be free and easy with her passions like Stefan, or Ilona, and did not even envy their lack of inhibition. Solitude suited her. Ah, but sometimes she longed…

Very gently she laid her hands on him: one on his shoulder, one on his chest. She felt the slight swell of breasts, which she’d taken for muscle. And she felt the slim ribcage, motionless and unbreathing, expand with a sudden breath.

“Take my blood,” she said.

“I don’t know that I can. It is so long since anyone touched me…”

“Is my touch unpleasant?”

“No.” The slender back arched upwards a little. “Your hands feel like heaven.”

“You needn’t live any longer without being touched.” She pushed her hair back to expose her throat. “Don’t be afraid.”

“You are covered in blood!”

“I know… So hot down there, it streamed out of me.”

Kurgara put his face into her neck, but did not bite. Instead she felt firm lips, and then the tip of his tongue, licking… Moving over her neck and face, all down her body, licking the blood away, cleaning every inch of her skin that he could reach.

He, or she, was lovely: female enough for her. Female enough for this moment, at least. That mysterious in-between state entranced her: the genitals were like a folded purple orchid. She flung her arms over her head. Her whole self shimmered with pleasure. At last she felt the tongue-tip exploring tentatively between her thighs. An instant, uncontrollable explosion of pleasure convulsed her. The universe turned red and golden. Then Kurgara was sliding upwards and she felt his thin sharp fangs slip into her throat…

He gasped, drinking more that she’d meant him to – she knew she would be weak afterwards, but now she didn’t care. Her fingers found the velvet petals, probed and explored as the elfin creature rocked against her hand.

They entwined their arms around each other, found each other’s lips. The taste of her own blood, like sharp autumn fruits, washed away the bitterness of his. They pressed close, thighs interwoven so tightly they were almost inside each other. Entering that striving, mindless state of bliss that no power in the universe could stop.

She felt the small hard stamen throb powerfully against her as he came. Kurgara made no sound, but his whole body stiffened in a seizure of pleasure. Violette’s back arched with a second, overwhelming orgasm – for those long seconds they were nothing but two hot, swollen orchids fused together, pulsating like a heartbeat.

They lay side by side on their backs, holding hands as the sky began to pale.

“When the sun rises,” she said, “it will warm the rock and we’ll lie here like two basking lizards.”

He didn’t answer at once. Sunlight touched them, crimson and gold. Eventually he said, “I had forgotten so much about the world. The colours of the sand… But to enjoy this, I have abandoned my duty.”

“Don’t you think that a thousand years of hell is enough? It’s over. You have no reason to feel guilty.”

“I would like to believe you, sweet Lilith.”

“Violette.”

“Violette,” he echoed. “You are persuasive.”

She sat up, leaning on one elbow.

“Fadiya wants this with you,” she said. “Why would she not? Don’t lock yourself away in a temple like some mad, untouchable god. She wants your skin against hers. She wants the sharing of blood. I am not telling you to be ‘human’ again, because we can never be that, but… try being part of the physical world, where there is touch and sensation and scent and pleasure, the delight of love or of simple conversation…”

Violette didn’t know whether she was talking to Kurgara or to herself.

She offered him her wrist, felt the warm lips and the slender fangs piercing like needles. He took several long draughts, as if starving, and would have gone on if Violette had not pulled free.

“Enough,” she said softly. “We are inside each other now. This will help us both to understand. We ought to leave. You need to feed properly, and so do I. You’ll soon remember how to hunt for yourself: the instinct never fades.”

As she passed him the djellaba, and put on her own disgusting, ruined dress, he said, “I do not know where to begin. I’m lost.”

“May I suggest you come out of your hole and study some books?” she replied bluntly. “Or go into the desert and meditate. You don’t have to live with illusions. If you still feel that part of you is Zruvan, accept it, but understand that it’s only a thought-form. He or she is not your master. Why not go to your flock and explain what’s happened?”

He rose, and she had her last glimpse of his body as the djellaba covered him from neck to toe. “They’ll scorn me!”

“No, they won’t. They’ll welcome you. Tell them you’ve had a revelation! Or say nothing at all. You don’t even have to tell them who you are.”

“No, I owe them the truth.”

“Good,” she said. “It’s time to understand that you are a vampire, like them. I was going to say an ‘ordinary’ vampire, but none of us is ever quite that. You can learn to live as yourself, instead of hiding behind costumes and illusions. Not that I’m anyone to talk. I hide behind characters all the time, but I don’t believe I really am Odile or Giselle.”

“Who are they?”

“Come and ask your friends.” She made to walk away, then hesitated, turning to look back at Zruvan-Kurgara reborn: no monster, but brown and slender as a dryad from the deep forest, cloaked in black hair. As fragile as a moth, newly emerged from the thick crust of its cocoon.

“You’re beautiful, Kurgara. Your true spirit is gentle, and one day you’ll be strong again. They’ll adore you. Whether you choose to be male or female or both – that’s up to you, but what a wondrous choice to have.”

“I want to see Fadiya,” he said.

She’d planned to leave him to fend for himself, but changed her mind and held out her hand. “Come on. I’m taking you to Bayt-al-Zuhur, with Nabil’s guidance. No argument. You should have learned not to argue with me by now.”

“We don’t need Nabil,” he said. “I know the way.”

* * *

Fadiya brought Charlotte and Emil inside a wondrous garden enclosed on all sides by the balconies and rooms of the house. Glorious decoration, fountains, sunlit foliage and passages to further courtyards captivated her.

Vampires shrouded in colourful robes came to greet them. Their reverence and love as they bowed to Fadiya was clear. Charlotte felt decidedly humbled.

“This is the Lemon Garden,” said Fadiya. “There are other gardens beyond. Our friends here built this place like a
riad
, closed away and secret.”

“It’s beautiful.” That was all Charlotte could say.

“I know,” said Fadiya with the hint of a smile.

They dismounted from the mares as two male vampires closed the small side-gate behind them. Between them they helped the wilting Emil from Ghazale’s back. Charlotte was sad to think of parting company with Dabab.

“I’ll stable the mares, if you show me where,” she said. “You take care of Emil.”

He was exhausted, hardly able to keep his feet. Fadiya passed him into the hands of three others, the two dark men and a Nordic-blond female.

“You trust them?” Charlotte said, wary. She and Fadiya led the mares along a cloister and into a warm, dusty stable with four stalls.

“Yes. They won’t touch him; he’s an honoured guest. We are not beasts, any more than you are.”

“I know, but we all have moments we regret…”

“He’s safe. He stayed here before, on our outward journey. No one touched him.”

“Except you.”

Fadiya blinked. “He needs rest, that’s all.”

In the stall, once Dabab was watered, fed and groomed, she rested her muzzle on Charlotte’s shoulder and breathed a long, hot sigh down her neck. Charlotte felt no desire for animal blood and never had: it wasn’t the same. These horses had no conception of vampires, but they knew predators, and knew they were in no danger from Fadiya or Charlotte. The mare’s affectionate trust made her tearful.

“I’ll miss you, too,” she whispered.

Outside in the Lemon Garden, Charlotte admired the
riad
with its tiers of galleries, ornately carved doors and arches, foliage heavy with blossom. The light was hazy, beautiful. There was a sense of peace here that made her want to stay.

“So this is Bayt-al-Zuhur. Your safe house.”

“You’ve never heard of it?” said Fadiya.

“Never. Karl would have told me if he’d known. He’s often said there must be other, secret groups of vampires somewhere. Perhaps everywhere.”

“And here is ours,” Fadiya said with a smile. “You will always be welcome.”

“Do you mean it? Why? We haven’t exactly been friends.”

“But I hope we’re not enemies any longer.”

Fadiya fetched a basket and began to pluck olives and dates.

“For Emil,” she said. “What a waste that we can’t eat them ourselves.”

“At least we can enjoy the flowers. The colours and scents. So lovely.” Charlotte looked around at the profusion of trees, vines, yellow and violet and blue flowers. She sensed vampire presences in the shaded rooms that led off the galleries. Here and there she saw them relaxing on benches in the shade. Some appeared to be dozing. They had bone-handled
Istilqa
knives stuck in the belts, or even loose on the bench beside them.

How eerie, to be among vampires who were passive and sleepy. It felt soothing, but so
wrong
.

“Everyone here is a vampire,” she said. She couldn’t make an accurate count – some auras were faint, like Fadiya’s – but she estimated at least thirty.

“We live a pleasant enough life,” said Fadiya. “The
sakakin
help us rest during the day. At night we hunt and feed, we make music and play our games of love beneath the stars. But Lord Zruvan protects us, our divine guardian. His sacrifice, dwelling in the Bone Well, makes our existence possible.”

Charlotte thought about Violette. Fresh fear hit her like an ocean wave. The desert journey and the heat had lulled her into torpor, as if getting Emil here was all that mattered. Now she was suddenly on full alert, alarmed but ready to fight.

I have to go back for her – if I’m strong enough to enter Raqia. If not, I’ll ride back.

“What’s wrong?” said Fadiya. “You look as if you’re about to murder me.”