The Dark Blood of Poppies (72 page)

“Well, at least I’ve been of some use,” he said.

“Oh, it wasn’t you.” Violette was past caring what she said. There was nothing between them but tenderness, shared grief. No hostility, no secrets. “It was Karl. I let him make love to me. No – I didn’t
let
him, I persuaded him into an act of magical transfiguration.”

“He needed persuading? The man must be made of ice.”

She half-smiled. “So am I, so we were well-matched.”

“No, you’re very far from that. Oh, but why Karl?”

“What?”

“You should have waited for me.” He sounded only half-serious. “Weren’t we married once? Lilith and Samael.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Lilith was the bride of Samael, the Devil. King and Queen of hell. Have you quite forgotten me, my dear? You’re not the only one who’s felt the timeless weight of other lives.”

Something dark shifted within her. “What do you remember?” she asked.

“Silhouettes. Serpents. Black vines with red flowers. Fire and drums… not memories, only knowledge.”

“The Crystal Ring plays games with our minds.”

“Ah, but such wickedly dark and rich games,” he said. “And the same with both of us?”

“Sebastian,” she said coolly, “you must understand that it was a single event with Karl. A sacred act, not an expression of desire. I only love women. I’m not sure there can be anyone after Robyn, but my feelings haven’t changed.”

“And you must understand,” he said, his tone equally cool, “that I also want no one after Robyn. Do you really imagine I thought you could replace her?”

“No, that’s not what I thought,” she said. Too sad to argue. How eerie this felt, comforting yet bleak.

“Whatever was between us is in the past.”

“Perhaps we weren’t husband and wife,” Violette said gently, “but brother and sister. That endures.”

“Then stay, just for a little while, dear sister,” said Sebastian. “Not to weep alone. That’s the most we can ask for.”

* * *

They were at home in Switzerland, within a circle of red-gold firelight; Karl in an armchair beside the fire, Charlotte curled on his knee with her head on his shoulder.

“Have you changed?” Karl asked. “Am I to share you with an overexcitable deity?”

He spoke lightly, but now they were alone there was a filament of anxiety between them.

“No,” said Charlotte. “I’m just me. A little older and wiser, that’s all. And you?”

“You must understand,” Karl said, very quietly, “that Violette and I… I wish it hadn’t happened. It wasn’t love, it was not even lust.”

“Dearest, you don’t have to explain. I was there; I joined in, if you remember. It was sorcery.”

Karl half-smiled. “Well, you have my word that it won’t happen again.”

“No, I suppose it won’t,” Charlotte said, rather sadly. “We’ve no reason to feel guilty; it was a sacred ritual, not a sin. All the same… I want you to myself. Always.”

“And so do I,” said Karl. “The danger was that I’d lose you to Violette.”

“You won’t.” She met his gaze. “But must she be alone forever? I wonder if the effect of Lilith’s embrace was to remove us even farther from humanity. I should feel guilty about the horrors I inflicted on my family… I meant to show them love and gave them nightmares instead, yet I can’t bring myself to agonise about it.”

“Perhaps you’ve realised the pointlessness of agonising. And I should be horrified at your rashness, but… I think I’ve grown used to you,
liebling
.”

Charlotte stared at him, indignant. “So you expect me to behave badly?”

“But you are never dull,” Karl said, lips curved. “Write to Anne.”

“Yes.” They were silent for a time, gazing into the fire. Presently she said, “Then there are things we still can’t talk about. The sharing of victims.”

His eyes slid towards her under his long lashes; amber shadows with points of blood-red light. “We can talk about it if you wish.”

“I think I’m less human than you, Karl. After we’d taken prey together I only remembered how beautiful it was, but you hated yourself.”

“It was a singularly hateful thing to do. Would you prefer me to glory in it?”

“No, but… we are vampires. You are such a gentleman and you expect me to be a lady; if a human came to our door and offered himself this minute, you would very politely send him away. I love you for that, but… I don’t want you to torment yourself. We’re vampires.”

“Whom Lilith has made a little crueller,” Karl said softly.

“No, more accepting of our nature.” Charlotte gave up, leaning her head on his chest, one hand in his hair. Still hopeless to speak of it. “Violette’s talking of leaving Salzburg and finding new premises in Switzerland or England. She wants the company to have its own theatre and ballet school. I’m so glad. I thought she’d give up after Robyn.”

“She’s too strong,” said Karl.

As he spoke, someone knocked at the front door. They looked at each other, surprised; then she slipped off his knee and followed him along the hall to the door.

Karl stood in the doorway, an elegant silhouette against the deep dusky-blue of mountains, forest and sky. Facing him, on the wooden porch, were Stefan and Niklas, their blond hair like moonlight. Between them stood a human: a male of about twenty-five with curly black hair and rosy cheeks, slightly drunk, happy and friendly and completely innocent of what his new friends actually were.

“We couldn’t stay away,” Stefan said apologetically. “I felt dreadful for deserting you, and I couldn’t help wondering what we were missing, and, what’s worse, I was bored.”

“Your timing is immaculate,” Karl said sardonically. “It’s all over.”

“Oh.” Stefan looked, Charlotte thought, more relieved than disappointed. “Well, then you can tell us all about it.” He placed a fond hand on the human’s shoulder. “We brought… refreshments.”

Karl and the young man regarded each other. Then the man’s smile vanished, and his pink face turned deathly white.

“Come in,” said Karl.

B
y the opening night in Vienna, Violette had given
Witch and Maiden
a very different ending. The dark spirit Lila, rejected by Siegfried in favour of the pure Anna, curses them and abducts their children. As her curse unwinds, Siegfried repents and lies dying of love for Lila. In desperation, Anna goes to Lila and asks how to lift the curse. Lila replies that instead of rejecting her, she and Siegfried must invite her in. The two women – Violette and Ute – dance an exquisite duet; then, by a stunning special effect, the two become one: Lila-Anna, danced by Violette in a wonderful costume of black, white and gold. Siegfried comes back to life, the children are restored, the divided goddess becomes whole.

The ballet was magical: unsurpassed, Charlotte thought, even by Violette’s previous creations. The audience responded ecstatically.
Witch and Maiden
was a new classic.

Charlotte had invited Josef to the ballet, but he didn’t appear. Afterwards, Charlotte slipped away from the post-show party – leaving Violette to her rapturous well-wishers – and went to his apartment.

She found Josef sitting at his desk in shirt-sleeves. With a pen in his hand, a blank writing pad before him, he was gazing at nothing. Crumpled balls of paper lay around him. Seeing her, he started and almost smiled. Not quite. His face was calm but his eyes were dark, half-dead. He looked older.

“You didn’t come,” she said softly. “You missed a wonderful evening.”

“I was in no mood to enjoy anything.”

“Was I tactless to invite you? I didn’t know what to do for the best. I thought it might take your mind off…”

“Nothing can do that. Not even time.” Exhaling, he put down his pen. “I was trying to write to you. Hopeless.”

She went to his chair and knelt beside him. “Why?”

“To tell you what happened about Robyn. To say – ah God, I don’t know. I can’t find the words.”

“Tell me now.”

His strong face looked beautiful in the glow of his desk lamp, silver hair and eyebrows dewed with light. “It went as you’d expect. I informed the police that I’d been told – anonymously – where she might be. They found her. There was a post-mortem, then the body was returned to Boston for burial. Now the Irish and American police wish to question one Sebastian Pierse about her murder. And I should like to kill him with my bare hands –” He stopped, raw pain suffusing his face. “They’ll never find him.”

“Of course not.”

“And her death is my fault.”

“No!” She grasped his arms. “Don’t you dare say that! How could you possibly be responsible?”

“Because I befriended vampires, Charlotte.” He looked candidly at her. “I failed to protect her from them. This is the result, and it was bound to happen, and I should have prevented it – but I didn’t.”

“That’s nonsense,” she said vehemently. “She met Sebastian by coincidence. There was no dark plot. We didn’t know him, or even know he was in Boston. You couldn’t have prevented this.”

“But would she have succumbed, if she had not first been enchanted by you, Violette and Karl? You left her yearning… and, God, I know how she felt. Now I cannot help thinking that this is my punishment.”

“For what?”

“For my arrogance. Thinking that you and I could be friends. How can we be? It’s against nature, against God. There was bound to be retribution.”

“You don’t believe that,” she said, distressed.

“Intellectually, it is of course nonsense.” His tone was arid. “But I cannot persuade my heart. I’m too exhausted to try. I was writing also to suggest we should not see each other again.”

“I see.” She stood and walked slowly around the study. Rows of books. Silver-framed photographs of Robyn, in all her radiance. “Perhaps you’re right. I’ve caused you nothing but distress.”

Silence. He rested his head on his hands.

“But before I go,” she said, “I’ve something to tell you. Violette achieved the wholeness you said she needed…”

“Individuation.”

“But to find it involved taking apart everything we believed and looking at it from the inside. Do you remember telling me how the Adam and Eve story was based on misinterpretations of an earlier myth?”

“Charlotte, please. I haven’t the energy for theology.”

“I’m sorry.” She paused. “All that was leading to something important. A warning.”

He stirred tiredly. “What warning?”

“Within the next few years, I don’t know exactly when, Austria will become dangerous for you. You’ll have to leave.”

At that he straightened up, more indignant than alarmed. “Leave my home? Whatever for? Will vampires come to take revenge on me?”

“Not vampires. Men. Violette saw the future and it’s very ugly. I can’t tell you any more. But unless you leave and go somewhere safe like England or Switzerland, your life will be in danger.”

Josef’s only reaction was another sigh. “I don’t know why. I’ve offended no one.”

“But millions of people who have offended no one will be persecuted, all the same,” she said quietly. “It’s happened countless times in the past. It’s bound to happen again.”

“A tragedy for those others,” he said, his head bowed. “But a threat to my life fails to wake any trepidation in me. It doesn’t matter so much.”

“Josef!” She flew to him, dismayed. “I’m serious. You won’t feel this grief forever. You’ll want to live. I want you to live.”

He looked up and took her hand, smiling. “Well, I’m being selfish, thinking only of myself. I didn’t notice how sad you look. What is wrong, Charlotte? Not just pity for an old man?”

A touch of his usual spirit and humour lit his eyes. She leaned down and rested her head on his shoulder, her head touching his.

“My father’s dead,” she said. “My leaving made him ill. So I’ve been blaming myself as well.”

“Oh, God, poor Dr Neville,” Josef said into her hair. “I didn’t know. He was a good friend, many years ago. I am so sorry.”

His sympathy was unforced; he didn’t stop to wonder how a vampire could care about her mortal family. In that moment she felt hopelessly human.

“You’ve lost a niece who was your daughter in spirit,” she said, “and I’ve lost my father. I miss him.”

They held and comforted each other, off their guard. And the inevitable happened. Charlotte felt the soft, lined skin of Josef’s throat under her lips, and she bit down. It was an act of desperation, not thirst; a need to purge her feelings, to connect with another being. The luscious flow of blood was a lightning strike.

At once she realized what she was doing, and pulled away, horrified.

Josef fought her, straining to keep her teeth in the vein. He wanted her to carry on. But Charlotte won. Gasping, she fought free.

“No, I won’t! I said I want you to live and I meant it. If you want to die, it will not be my doing.”

“But there’s no other way I wish to die, Charlotte.” He spoke intensely, gripping her hands. “Don’t forget that. When my time comes, you had better be there. It would be kind, not cruel, can’t you see that?”

She nodded. “Yes. I know.”

He released her. His voice dropped. “To bring such love to me and then to take it away – that is the real cruelty.”

She kissed his forehead. “Forgive me,” she said, but he was like stone to her touch.