The Dark Arts of Blood (62 page)

“What about Violette? Will he harm her? Zruvan, I mean?”

Fadiya drew Charlotte to a fountain. They sat on the tiled rim with water misting over them.

“He’ll do what he has to. There’s nothing you can do, and you know it. It’s too late.”

Charlotte swallowed what she longed to say.
If she doesn’t come back, this will never be forgiven. I don’t want to destroy your paradise, but oh – once we gather those who love Lilith, even though we’re only a few – you’ll learn all about revenge, Fadiya. You’ll regret the day you came spying on us.

“What are you thinking?” said Fadiya. “Sometimes we’ve had to battle other groups who were jealous and wanted to destroy us. Zruvan is our protector.”

“This is only my opinion,” Charlotte said carefully, “but I think the Bone Well is an appalling idea. Vampires who hoard their victims around them come to a sorry end. And the
Istilqa
knives are extremely dangerous. Why create daggers that can kill vampires but give humans power against us?”

“That isn’t their purpose.”

“But that’s what they are. My father devoted his life to exploring the inside of atoms – a perfectly noble study, yet I’ve had nightmare premonitions about where his research might lead one day. The best of intentions may have appalling results.”

“The same is true of everything,” said Fadiya. The vulnerable, confiding Fadiya of the cavern was gone. Her shutters were closed again. “You are in no position to judge us.”

“Granted, but I still think the knives are a mistake. You use them as humans use laudanum. The Crystal Ring’s there for us to rest in, but you’re afraid of the very realm that created you.”

“So? Humans fear the desert and the sea, especially during storms.”

“I’d like to know why Zruvan focused this fear on Violette.”

“He wants the truth, that’s all.” Fadiya’s voice tightened. “If you disapprove of us, that’s unfortunate, but this is how we live. Don’t come here, with no understanding, and tell us to stop.”

“It’s only my impression,” Charlotte repeated. She looked up at the blue square of the sky. “Everything feeds in a circle. I believe humans like Godric Reiniger are
causing
the Crystal Ring’s moods. Not Violette. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“I can only do what Zruvan asks.”

“You’re not the cold-hearted predatory vampire I thought you were. I know you’re not. But you deliberately seduced Emil to ensnare
her
.”

“As you said, plans don’t always have the expected outcome,” Fadiya said softly. “I fell in love with Emil. I helped you free him because I couldn’t risk Zruvan letting him die. I do love him, Charlotte. I do.”

Charlotte believed her. She smiled with bitter-sweet sadness.

“Then I feel sorry for you. We fall for the wrong people and end up tearing lives apart all around us. If I can’t help Violette, my duty is to get Emil back to Switzerland. What will you do, Fadiya?”

* * *

Emil slept for hours – too long, he thought. The nightmarish trance of shock he’d entered when they first threw him into the truck had softened to a mellow state of languor. He remembered speeding across the desert on horseback, his mind screaming while his body felt like a sack of coal. Now he saw he was back in Fadiya’s courtyard palace again.

He felt a surge of anger. A sign he was coming back to life.

He washed in a bowl of rose-scented water they’d left for him and dressed. Between a choice of colourful robes and a plain suit, he chose the suit.

When he came out from behind the screen, Fadiya was sitting on his bed.

The room had a soothing brownish light, dappled with fretwork patterns of daylight falling through the windows. A ceiling fan stirred the torpid air.

Fadiya beckoned, and he reluctantly sat beside her. She took his hand. She still had her lovely scent of flowers and spices. She’d bathed, changed, perfumed herself: there was no whiff of horse left on her. He thought of her skin sliding against his, her hair brushing his chest… turned his head away in pain.

“Darling, I am so sorry,” she began.

He gave a short laugh. “Why? You used me!”

“Yes, I deceived you, but I didn’t know I would fall in love with you.”

“Please. I’m not a fool – well, plainly I am, but not stupid enough to be taken in twice. When I was held prisoner, didn’t I hear you say you lied about being a widow, that you were married to someone else?”

“Zruvan. Yes, but not in the sense you’d understand. And I’ve betrayed him to save you.”

“Betrayal should be your middle name.”

“Forgive me. The love I feel for you is real. Vampires and humans can love each other…”

“Not according to Violette. I’ve tasted your love. It consisted of you sucking out my strength and replacing it with mad nightmares.”

“Ask Charlotte, then. She was human when she met Karl.”

“I do not care to ask Charlotte. I don’t care about your reasons. You used me to lure Violette to your – your husband, whatever he is – and to her death?” He stood up, fists clenched at his sides. “This is your fault. And mine. After this, I have no future, nowhere to go, nothing to be…”

“Then stay here with me,” she murmured, rising and sliding around to face him. Then she kissed him and he couldn’t resist the warmth of her mouth, the slender warm body against his and the feel of her hair between his fingers. He groaned.

“I love you, Emil. We could start again. You loved me too, didn’t you, just a little?”

“I could have loved you. Fadiya, Fadiya…”

“Please forgive me. I’ll explain and make up for everything.”

“Too late.”

He pushed her away. Her beautiful, tormented face quested towards his, her eyes glistening with tears, and he believed she was sincere. To his own dismay, he felt pain pushing up at his heart like a boulder. His throat ached –
Damn it
, he thought,
why am I in tears?

But it was too late.

“After what we’ve done to Violette, you and I? If she’s dead – I don’t even want to know. But this is over, Fadiya.” He opened his hands. “Go on, drink my blood and kill me if you want – I can’t stop you. Whatever you decide, I never want to see you again.”

She stared at him, tears streaming down her face. Then she was gone – simply vanished into the air – the sound of her departure not retreating footsteps, but the sifting of sand.

* * *

The best time to escape from vampires was in the day. That was obvious, Emil thought after he’d watched the courtyard for another hour. No one came near him. After all, who was interested except Fadiya, who was now gone for good?

They were sluggish in the heat, active at night. His only chance was to go now, while no one was paying attention. There must be a discreet way to the outside, and if the gates were locked he’d climb over a wall, like the athlete he was.

He quickly rifled through the bag he’d brought. He had his money and documents still. That was all he needed.

Now that he had no future, there was only one thing left for him to do.

C
oncealed in the darkened projection booth, Karl was amazed by the size of the audience settling in Godric’s private cinema. He’d expected this to be a small private showing for his supporters only. Instead he counted forty men, twenty women. Crew and cast sat at the back, and the front rows were full of local dignitaries and business owners. Karl understood: if Godric presented their town, and Switzerland, in a flattering light, support and money would flow his way. His political group would become a real force. He could make all the melodramatic propaganda films he wanted. After all, his aim was to glorify his home country: who would object to that?

Reiniger himself was the last to arrive, resplendent in white tie and tails. He strutted down the steps to a round of applause.

Karl was astonished that – after the events of a few nights ago – Godric was going ahead with his movie launch as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

He had to admire the man’s aplomb.

Reiniger raised one hand, nodding his appreciation. He cleared his throat and spoke in a clear, piercing voice that conveyed a blend of pride and humility.

“Welcome, my friends, to Bergwerkstatt: my home and workplace. If you wonder what Reiniger Studios has been doing over the spring, the answer is this: editing together our hard work in what I hope will come to be regarded as a masterwork of the project. Reiniger Studios is proud to present a drama set in our beloved home country!”

He took a seat in the front row. His second-in-command, Wolfgang, sat to his right and Amy on his left.

She’d insisted on returning to him, even after the bedroom incident. She had done what she told Karl she planned to do: walked back in, let the fuss die down and insisted that she had never been kidnapped. She’d simply been a guest of the Ballet Lenoir for a few days. If his enemies had said otherwise, they’d lied.

“He mustn’t find out I helped you,” she’d said to Karl. “And don’t worry about me. This will be the biggest acting performance of my life.”

Her uncle must have swallowed the story – after all, it was more or less true. Karl was certain Reiniger had no idea she’d been present that night – too wrapped up in his own activities even to suspect.

He certainly wouldn’t have confessed his exploits to anyone. A facade of normality must be maintained. Now Amy sat beside him as if in total innocence, more calculating than her ingénue manner would suggest.

The lights went down, the curtains slid back from the screen and Stefan began to crank the projector. There were twin projectors, the second poised to take over as soon as the first reel ran out. Karl had had to learn fast, and he knew they had little time before Reiniger began to suspect that his experienced projectionist was drunk, or battling with technical difficulties. Stefan struggled to run the film at the precise speed: slightly too fast, then slightly too slow, as words lit up the screen:

Reiniger Studios presents
…
TRIUMPH IN THE MOUNTAINS
.

Karl and Stefan exchanged a look. The grey and silver images began. A breath-taking Alpine panorama blended into a scene of foreign soldiers pouring down a mountain pass. The usual message, Karl noted. Switzerland in danger from every direction. A pure Swiss maiden – played by Mariette in a blond, plaited wig – was captured and tormented by bearded Slavic brigands. Much overacting ensued.

“He does like to linger on his torment scenes, doesn’t he?” said Stefan, as the villains took a whip to the brave but wilting heroine.

“Oh, he enjoys a little torture,” Karl said softly. “The technical quality is actually not bad, but always the same story…”

“With practice,” Stefan said mordantly, “he will get better until one day he tells the
perfect
story, the one that fires everyone’s heart with crusading fervour and, who knows, starts the next world war.”

“With practice, could you try to find a consistent speed?” said Karl.

“I thought these damned things would have electric motors by now,” Stefan retorted. “Do
you
know what you are doing?”

In the corner of the booth, the official projectionist lay unconscious. Stefan’s fangs had taken him down – he wasn’t one of the inner circle, so his blood was untainted – but they’d tied and gagged him to make sure.

Stefan ran the movie for as long as it took Karl to unload the reel from the second projector and replace with a different one. The process of threading the film into place took concentration: it hadn’t seemed this difficult when Amy had tutored him.

“It’s done,” Karl said at last. “I’m ready.”

Stefan stopped turning the handle of the first projector, with the result that the frame caught in the lamp’s heat and melted. The picture on screen flared to white. The audience uttered a groan.

Reiniger turned in his chair and glared up at the projection booth.

“Turn off the lamp!” Karl exclaimed.

“Well, turn yours on. You said you were ready!”

Karl thought of rousing the projectionist and making him take over before Reiniger stormed up there to see what was happening. Surely they could perform the task more smoothly than this…

“Bolt the door,” said Karl. “At least stop anyone coming in here.”

“For God’s sake, hurry.”

Herr Reiniger was actually out of his seat, glowering, when Karl got the new reel running. Amy sat motionless, eyes fixed forward.

Cut from the terrified maiden to her brave peasant fiancé weeping over her body. He shook his fist at the heavens and – in captions – swore to join the Swiss army and avenge this dastardly deed.

The audience settled again. The film ran on for a minute or three, long enough to lull them into the story…

Then it cut to a new scene. Dark and grainy, it sat out of context and seemed to be from a different movie entirely. The lighting was poor. No captions flagged the sudden change of mood. There was a room, full of ornate curtains and furnishings, mostly in shadow. In the doorway, two people were kissing. Two men.

A suppressed gasp went up from the audience.