The Dark Arts of Blood (66 page)

Fadiya’s mouth tightened. She said nothing.

“Fadiya, I have to leave now. As you’ve managed to lose Emil, it’s vital I find him before gets into any more trouble. I can’t bring myself to
thank
you for not killing him, but… thank you, anyway, for sparing him. Now, just go in and speak with Kurgara. Please.”

At that, Fadiya turned on her. Her eyes blazed pale jade with anger.

“You have to control everyone,
own
everyone. I could not kill Emil, or let anyone else hurt him, because I loved him. You think I’m heartless, but you know nothing about me. I knew that bringing you here would end in disaster. Everyone prostrates themselves before you, Madame Violette-Lilith – even Zruvan!”

“Well, blame your husband for that.
He
wanted me here. You were only doing his bidding, weren’t you?”

“He’s as much a fool as Emil,” Fadiya spat. “You don’t care that you’ve destroyed them both. You care about no one, as long as you get your own way.”

“Are you any different?” Violette said, very low. “We have to take what we can. When women seize power of any kind, however small, it is soon snatched back. When we achieve anything, in art or science or any other field, it is buried and forgotten as swiftly as possible. Every time we emerge from the kitchen, powers arise that push us back.”

“You’re talking like a human.”

“It’s not long since I was human. You are much older than me: this wisdom is inside you already, if you’d only look for it. Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I remember all too vividly what it’s like to live under the pressure of a great lie: that we are less than men. But in the outside world, that lie remains everyday reality. It will stay so for decades, perhaps forever. And not only for women, but for anyone who deviates from society’s rules, even by thinking the wrong thoughts. I’ve seen terrible visions, Fadiya.”

The woman’s eyes began to darken, glistening. “So have I, but visions can deceive.”

“I know. I don’t believe the future’s set in stone, but it pays to be watchful. As vampires we stand outside all that, but that doesn’t mean we can disengage. Some vampires choose to do so, but the world is still there and we have to exist in it. I believe that we can immerse ourselves in human life without drowning. We can work from the shadows.”

“At what?” There was a catch in Fadiya’s voice. “Helping humans? Helping our
prey
?”

“Yes,” said Violette. “Because we need them, and a few of them may join us one day. So let’s not engage in a personal feud. We should work as friends, not enemies.”

Violette watched Fadiya’s expression turn calmer and more serious.

“Friends, I’m not sure. Allies, perhaps.”

“Everything changes, even Bayt-al-Zuhur. You’ll learn to adapt, because you must. You see this as a disaster, but is it? Would you force Kurgara back into the Bone Well?”

“No,” Fadiya whispered. “Never.”

“You don’t need an eternal martyr to protect you. You’ll find another way. Become joint leaders and protectors of your flock, or live with them as equals. If they can’t accept you, just walk away. The point is that you’re free. And he can probably hear everything we’re saying. I hope he can. May I say goodbye to him?”

Fadiya looked startled. “Ah… yes, of course.”

Violette turned, but Fadiya took her elbow, stopping her. “I am not a very effective enemy, madame. I treated Emil badly, but when I say I loved him, it’s the truth. He was so beautiful. He rejected me and I don’t blame him: he made the right decision. I knew we couldn’t be together but still, it hurt. We hurt each other.”

“I’m afraid I can’t find much sympathy. What about Zruvan-Kurgara? Do you still love him? Can you?”

“Of course. Always. It’s possible to love more than one person, isn’t it?”

“That’s true.”

“I’ve always loved Zruvan and always will, but… I don’t know who he is now. Yes, I am afraid.”

Violette leaned in and kissed Fadiya on the cheek. The kiss lingered, warm and forgiving. She took Fadiya’s hand. “Come in with me. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” said Fadiya. “I’m ready.”

Nabil and his comrade stood aside, bowing to them both. Fadiya knocked. No protest came from inside, so they opened the door and went in.

Inside, the bedroom was cool and dim, with a tiled floor, carved furniture, dappled light falling through the fretwork shutters and jewels of colour from the Moroccan-style lamps. There were carpets and cushions woven of thick wool. An inviting, exotic bower.

Kurgara sat in the centre of a large bed. He was crossed-legged in loose white trousers, his chest bare except for the thick ebony fall of his hair.

Fadiya looked away. Violette waited, catching his glance with a slight but meaningful smile. Eventually Fadiya raised her head and looked straight into his eyes.

They held the look.

How could she not find him beautiful, in soul as much as in body? He or she… Fadiya claimed they were husband and wife, yet they’d barely ever touched each other. Violette felt mildly envious that they had so much still to discover.

Fadiya wants this with you
, she had told Kurgara as they lay skin to skin.

To step out of the red-hot madness of imprisonment and back into the real world of touch and scent and cool air on the face, conversation and affection, the richness of human blood taken under the stars… Neither could turn away from that gift.

“I must go,” she said. She kissed Kurgara on the forehead and stood back.

He rose from the bed. He and Fadiya trod cautiously towards each other, their gazes locked together, captivated.

Violette was reminded of birds who paired for life. No one else existed for them. She had wanted to say something severe about the fact that they’d abducted Emil and it would take time for the matter to be forgotten, let alone forgiven… but there was no point. They were no longer the people they had been when they conspired against her.

Softly she said, “Fadiya, meet your husband. Kurgara, meet your wife. May the blessings of all the gods, goddesses and angels of the Crystal Ring fall upon you.”

Kurgara raised one hand to touch Fadiya’s cheek. She sighed, resting into his palm. The first touch in hundreds of years, the first time they’d freely pressed their lips to each other’s faces and hands and throats. So tender, yet insatiable.

Violette doubted that they’d heard her. When she left, they didn’t notice.

* * *

Any of them might have located Emil, but – since Violette had stayed behind for a short time, and Charlotte had hurried on to Lucerne – Karl happened to reach him first. He spent the whole day searching: a new morning dawned before he finally he caught Emil’s distinctive red-gold aura among thousands of other humans.

As predicted, he was in Italy, but nowhere near the family farm.

Karl located him in Rome, weaving through the edge of a crowd that had gathered to watch a military parade.

The ground shook in time to the rhythm of tramping boots. Onlookers crowded forward to watch the procession pass. Rank upon rank of soldiers, motorcycles, flags snapping. And at the centre was a stocky figure standing proudly in his grand limousine: their leader, Il Duce, Benito Mussolini.

Karl looked on this display of human pomp with a sense of dismay. The taste of dust and diesel fumes was bitter on his tongue. Sunlight reflected off the buildings, and the crowd’s excitement overwhelmed all his senses. Somewhere, in this immense swarm of people, was Emil.

This is the past and the future
, he thought.
Arrogant displays of might, which grow ever grander and more intimidating. When I was a young mortal, the troops had horses. Now there are motor vehicles and tanks, leviathans of war. Who can stand against this? The Great War was not enough. They still want more.

Karl identified Emil’s aura – a speck among thousands – and began to push his way through the crowd. Not far, a few hundred yards…

Mussolini’s vehicle trundled towards the place where Emil waited. Karl caught a clear view of the dictator’s face: fleshy, pompous, self-satisfied.

He thought,
This is what Reiniger wanted.

Karl was running now. He wove and pushed his way through the barrier of humans, ignoring their curses in his wake. He saw Emil, his golden hair distinctive, standing in a grassed area lined with trees. He stood slightly apart, behind the densest part of the crowd, hands deep in the pockets of a long dark coat.

As Karl struggled to reach him, he saw Emil’s right hand beginning to emerge from the pocket, and the dark shape of a pistol rising to point at Mussolini’s heart…

Karl barged into him from the side. He caught the wrist that held the gun, shielding it from the view of anyone around them. Emil fought him. His strength was extraordinary, his eyes glazed.

If the gun went off, even if the bullet hit no one, the game would be over. The crowd around Emil would lynch him.

As they had his brother.

Karl struggled to wrench the weapon out of his hand, at the same time forcibly edging him backwards, away from the horde edging the road. He tried to make the struggle discreet – an argument between friends – so as to draw as little attention as possible.

Emil fought, his face red and distorted with effort. His trigger finger contracted and the gun went off.

The bullet ploughed into the earth between his feet and Karl’s. The retort was drowned by the crowd’s roar and the noise of the cavalcade passing them. Then Mussolini was gone, his entourage sweeping onwards into the distance as Karl forced Emil backwards through the trees. His hand, still gripping the pistol, went white under the pressure of Karl’s grip.

Emil stood gasping, red-eyed.

“Why the hell did you stop me?”

“What did you think you were doing?”

“Finishing what Alfonso started!”

“By taking a pot-shot at your leader? You know you would have been seized and hanged from the nearest tree?”

“Yes!” Emil snarled. “But if I killed that monster, it would have been worth it. How
dare
you stop me? This is none of your concern!”

“I disagree. Do you not understand that Violette offered her life to save yours? How do you imagine she’d react, to learn that you showed your gratitude by throwing yourself away in a rash political gesture? Or that I failed to stop you? You waste your life, I fail Violette… No, Emil. The consequences don’t bear thinking about. I couldn’t let it happen.”

Emil dropped the pistol. Karl quickly took it and removed the bullets, vowing to dispose of the weapon at the first opportunity.

“I have no future,” Emil said bleakly.

Karl put an arm around his shoulders and guided him firmly away. “Why do you say that?”

“I am a born fool. Violette rejects me. Fadiya renders me a gibbering wreck, so weak and befuddled that I almost lose my life and have to be rescued by
women
.”

“No shame in that. I suggest you swallow your pride and acknowledge the magnificence of the women who risked them-selves to save you.”

“All I had left was to die fulfilling my brother’s brave quest. That’s all. And you took it from me.”

“Or I’ve given you a second chance. No one need know about any of this. How do you wish to be remembered, Emil?”

“What?”

“As a failed performer who was hanged or thrown in prison for a crazed assassination attempt? Or as one of the greatest male dancers in history? You can’t save the world – none of us can – but you can give inspiration to thousands with your talent. I’d choose the latter above anything.”

Emil was quiet for a long time. They walked until the sun began to set. Karl noticed that broad roads were being driven through places where Roman remains had stood only a few years before. In almost every street he saw evidence of Il Duce’s attempts to use art and film, the press, sport, everything to promote his cause. The sights made him depressed.

Emil rubbed his face, scraped his fingers through his hair. Eventually he spoke.

“Is Violette safe?”

“Yes, she’s safe. Still worried to death about you, but otherwise well.”

“What happened? I remember boarding a ship with Fadiya. It seemed a wonderful idea at the time, but after that… I can’t claim it’s a blur, because I remember everything, but it’s all in jagged fragments.”

“Violette can explain better than me what happened, but we need you to come home to Lucerne.”

“Home?” He laughed.

“I’m under strict instructions,” said Karl. “Violette wants you where you belong, at the ballet, working with her.”

Emil gave a disbelieving gasp. “After all this? I don’t know how. It’s impossible.”

“Why?”

Another long silence. With darkness falling, Karl thought he should take Emil to a café and feed him before he collapsed.

“You and Charlotte and Violette, Fadiya and all those people in the Algiers house,” Emil murmured. “All vampires. How am I supposed to live with this knowledge?”

“With complete discretion,” Karl said drily. “Pretend you don’t know. Tell no one.”

“And the other members of the Ballet Lenoir? Do they know?”

“Not to my knowledge. Most humans are easily deceived. However, there are a few rare sensitive ones, like you, who see what we are. Can you cope with knowing?”

“I haven’t coped well so far.”

“You can learn. Violette has gone to great lengths to keep you, Emil. Do you think you’re in danger from us?”

“Aren’t I? I’d be a fool to think I’m not, after all that’s happened to me, and I still know almost nothing about you or what sort of monsters you really are. Nothing, except that you drink blood and drain our energy and send us mad.”

Karl noted his bitterness.

“I can’t deny that,” said Karl. “I can’t force you to come home. Well, I could, but I won’t. Believe me, though, when I say you’re in no danger from us. Violette would kill anyone who threatened you.”

“Yes, I think she would. But what are you, when you’re not drinking human blood? I simply don’t know. Does anything human matter to you at all?”

“Many things. You know how passionate Violette is about her ballet. Yes, we have human interests. We feel love and jealousy…”