The Dark Blood of Poppies

by Freda Warrington

  He’d never seen her before, but she reminded him of Karl. Did Karl have a sister, another member of the dark clan?

  Gripping the chair to steady himself, he said, “Can I be of assistance, Frau –?”

  “Oh, you’re a calm one, Herr Stern.”

  She came towards him. Before he could stand, she somehow twined herself around him and was on his knee. Her hands caged his neck, thumbs on his windpipe. God, how cold she was! When Charlotte touched him her hands were sometimes warm, sometimes cool, but this creature was like iced wax.

  And she was heavy for someone so slender, like cold stone leeching his warmth.

  “What is this?” Josef whispered.

  “I think you know, vampire-lover.” Her smile was a parody of tenderness. She pulled off his spectacles and threw them onto the desk. Because she was so close, he saw her in clear focus. He stared in flat terror and fascination. Flawless, her skin, and radiant. The eyes were drowsily luminous… pupils expanding, drawing him in. Her mouth glistening. When she spoke, he glimpsed her teeth and the red tip of her tongue.

  “I thought you were a little old for Charlotte… but no.” Her fingers travelled over his cheeks and forehead, burning him with trails of frost. “You are very attractive, old man, like a magus with your silver hair and troubled eyes. You’ve seen a lot of life, haven’t you? Too much. And now you’re tired. So tired.”

  She was hypnotising him, but he couldn’t stop her. A dream-state fell on him. He struggled to move but his body was anchored…

  Suddenly she twisted round and slammed one hand onto the book, making him jump.

  “What do you know about her?”

  One moment, seductress – the next, interrogator.

  “Who?”

  “Lilith, of course. Otherwise known as our mad genius Violette.”

  “Only what’s in the book. Take it, read for yourself.”

  She turned back, enveloping him again. “Well, it doesn’t matter. You’ll tell me eventually. Do you love Charlotte?”

  He couldn’t hold back the truth. “Yes.”

  “And does she do this to you?” With her left hand, the vampire broke the buttons from his shirt, slicing threads with her fingernail. Now her hand was exploring his ribs, sliding down over his lean abdomen, stealing warmth. Her lips touched his cheek, travelling in light kisses towards his mouth.

  Josef’s hands came forward to grasp her hips. He couldn’t help it. Fear flowed through him as he realised what a fool he’d been, welcoming Charlotte into his life as if to say, “See how courageous and knowing I am, not like the superstitious fools all around us!”

  Because, even though Charlotte was gentle and kind to him, she was still a vampire. She had to restrain her hunger to spare him. And this fiend who now devoured him was the dark side of the same coin. She was the danger he’d refused to acknowledge.

  And still he welcomed the pressure of her lips as their mouths parted in a mutual “O” of lust, their tongues meeting, tasting—

  She tasted of blood.

  Ending the kiss, she whispered into his ear, making him shiver. “You want me, don’t you?”

  He nodded, eyes closed, mouth awash with fear and desire.

  “On the bed or here on the chair?”

  Her matter-of-fact crudeness stunned him. Drugged by the need for release, he tried to say, “the bed,” to maintain at least a semblance of decorum, but before he could speak she swung one leg across to straddle him, her dress ruching around her thighs. Her hands worked at his trouser buttons. Then she slid forward and he felt the naked heat of her.

  He groaned. The ache was unbearable.

  “You want me,” she whispered into his neck, “even though you know what will happen.” And she laughed, a ripple of malice.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because Charlotte values you. It pleases me to destroy what others value.” As she spoke she lifted herself onto him, sheathing him in her moist, tight flesh. She wasn’t cold there but hot, burning. The pulsing rhythm began and Josef’s head fell back. Couldn’t see, couldn’t think. Only this excruciating ecstasy, building even through the web of terror.

  She tore his shirt off his shoulders. Her nails ripped slits in his chest, drawing blood. She licked the drops away. Then she began to bite him, bruising without breaking the skin; pausing now and then to lap at the bloody nail wounds.

  He cried out with pain. Heavy agony twisting tighter…

  His climax was like an artery bursting. He felt as if he were pouring blood inside her. Turning dizzy, he slumped back, trying to push her away with strengthless hands. He couldn’t breathe.

  But he was lost under the fervid bud of her mouth, as it nipped its way towards his neck. She was like a lush jungle vine consuming him, a purple-tongued flower scented with musk and blood…

  “Well, that was not your best effort, was it?”

  Her voice shuddered with her own excitement. His eyes opened and met her gaze. Her pupils were sightless with thirst, her mouth open, the canine teeth lengthening until they locked into place with a ghastly faint click.

  “Relax,” she said sarcastically. “I’m not going to kill you.”

  Let it end. Why does she hesitate?

  In a final peak of horror, he knew that it wasn’t his throat she wanted. Instead she slid off his lap and knelt between his feet.

  “You should have remembered,” she hissed, “to attend to my pleasure before your own. One chance only.”

  The vermilion mouth with its ivory daggers came lancing down. Blackness exploded around him like the wings of a thousand crows.

  * * *

  Violette haunted the alley behind the hotel like a stray cat at the kitchen door. She felt restless to the point of distress. The thirst again, the damned thirst.

  Three hours ago, she’d been a swan-queen commanding a stage. Now here she was, huddled in a black coat and cloche hat pulled down to hide her eyes, pacing the backstreets like a vagrant alcoholic.

  That’s what I am, she thought. An addict.

  If the audience could only see me now!

  I’ll have to do it. Take a human. I could go to Robyn… no, not yet. I’ll find a stranger.

  Or I could resist… Until my control breaks and I take someone at random; oh yes, my male principal perhaps, or another of my poor girls! No. She bit her lip. The tang of her own blood tormented her.

  Do I have to endure this every night to the end of the world? Why can’t I be like Karl and Charlotte? Just… do it.

  Or… feed on other vampires. It isn’t the same – but it’s better than nothing, better than this agony.

  She looked up at the long rows of windows. Most were dark, but a few showed strips of light between the curtains. She knew which room was Josef’s.

  Violette had been furious with Charlotte for bringing Josef, a mortal, to study her like a specimen. Later, though, her anger had faded.

  What do I know, after all? I feel Lilith in me like the raging cruelty of nature. The lioness bearing down the weakest quarry. The cuckoo pushing babies from the nest. Nestlings left to die, like little children caught in wars. And through her I remember things that could not possibly have happened. I remember them like dreams with gaping holes where the cold gales of the Crystal Ring rush through.

  I know nothing of who I really am. But perhaps Josef knows. Perhaps he has wisdom like Lancelyn… and even though Lilith’s instinct is to mock and revile the wisdom of men, I think that I should swallow my pride and ask for help…

  Charlotte and Karl weren’t far away. They’d been out to hunt and were returning to the hotel; she sensed them, faint but clear, drawing closer. She had a few minutes before they appeared: time to see Josef. Not to harm him. Only to talk.

  Violette entered the Crystal Ring and floated through steel-grey layers that were the kitchens, the foyer, stairs and corridors. The humans she passed were shimmering hairpins of fire, oblivious to her.

  As she approached Josef’s room, she kn
ew something was wrong. The atmosphere warped with a heat-haze of fear, pain and excitement. As she reached the door, the scent of blood uncoiled to torment her. The thirst responded, drawing her fangs to full length against her will.

  Someone had reached Josef before her.

  The door dissolved, letting her through. As she snapped into the real world, she saw a hideous scene: the human on a chair, head back, hair dishevelled, face contorted – and the vampire straddling him. She was dressed in blood-colours, her face and hands dripping gore.

  Ilona.

  Violette heard her own father’s voice from years past, “She was a lamia… hair the colour of blood…” She remembered the horrible injury he’d exposed to her in his madness, the mutilation that in the end had destroyed not only his life, but her mother’s and her own.

  For years, she’d believed her father to be insane. Only through meeting Charlotte had she come to understand that he hadn’t been mad after all. He truly had been the victim of a vampire. And his attacker had been Ilona.

  As Ilona slid off Josef’s knee and lowered her savage mouth towards his groin, Violette swooped. In an ecstasy of rage, she seized Ilona and ripped her bodily off her victim.

  Josef slumped to the floor, unconscious.

  Ilona twisted, eyes blazing, to see who’d thwarted her. “Oh, you!” she spat. Her hands whipped out in attack, but Violette was faster. Catching Ilona’s wrists, she pulled the woman towards her, regardless of her furious struggling.

  Ilona didn’t try to escape into the Crystal Ring. Apparently she preferred to fight. But if she had, Violette would have gone with her. No one escaped the wings and claws of Lilith, not even Karl’s daughter.

  Violette’s hunger was urgent, but Ilona clearly hadn’t satisfied her own thirst. She jerked a hand free and seized Violette’s hair, pulling hard to keep the dancer’s mouth away from her throat. They were both strong and ruthless. There was a touch of sadistic delight in their conflict.

  Violette broke the grip and her mouth clamped to Ilona’s neck. How sweet the firm body felt against hers, taut with emotion. Need overwhelmed Violette and she sank her fangs. Ilona went rigid. The blood was dense, a little sour in a delicious way, like crisp apples. Pleasure throbbed through Violette from throat to loins.

  Relief. Release, at last.

  Ilona was cursing in her ear. “You – bloody – witch!”

  And she broke free with an explosion of strength. From the corner of her eye, Violette saw Josef on the floor, huddled and groaning. There was blood all over him… human blood, which she still needed, despite the fluid she’d taken from Ilona. The hunger incensed her beyond reason.

  “What did you call me?” Violette said thinly. She advanced on Ilona, who was backing away, her face feral.

  “You heard.” Ilona clawed at the wound in her throat. “How dare you touch me!”

  “How dare you hurt him!” Violette pointed at Josef. “He was mine.”

  Ilona dodged the lash of her hands. “What’s this, a new rule that we must put our names down for victims?”

  Ilona was fast, but Violette surpassed her. She grabbed the bony shoulders and began to bite anywhere she could reach: face, neck, shoulders, arms. Ilona shrank away, mad with pain, defending now instead of attacking. Violette flung her down and pinned her to the floor, spattering the carpet with blood. “This isn’t for Josef. It’s for my father.”

  The impudent face glared into hers. “Not your bloody father again! Haven’t you got over it yet? For God’s sake, you’re a vampire now! You’d do this to him yourself!”

  Violette gripped her arm and jerked her onto her feet. Ilona began to look genuinely afraid.

  “Look to yourself, before you talk of fathers,” said Violette. “I see into your heart, Ilona, though I’ve no wish to look into such a foul pit.”

  And she struck the heart-shaped face, hard. Ilona reeled away but Violette followed, striking again and again. “Why don’t you fly away into the Crystal Ring?”

  “I can’t, damn you! Stop it, leave me alone!”

  But Violette-Lilith, caught up in the dark ritual of vengeance, could not stop. She pursued Ilona round the room in a cruel dance, blows becoming slashes. She tore Ilona’s dress and broke her long necklaces, scattering beads everywhere, then gouged wounds all over her back and chest. When Ilona’s cries turned from protests to pleas for mercy, Violette finally ran her up against the wardrobe and held her there, nails sinking deep into the flesh of her arms.

  “You bitch,” Ilona gasped. “Pierre was right. I’ll never forget this.”

  “No, you won’t. You hated Karl for making you into a vampire. Do you want your existence to end? Because I’ll oblige, I’ll snap your spine and tear off your charming head, and it will all be over. So, do you want to die?”

  “No. No.” Blank terror in her face.

  “How surprising.” Violette opened her mouth on Ilona’s soft neck, sucking and tasting the skin. Thrusting her fangs deep into a vein she drew hard, working her tongue to increase the flow so the wound would not heal too fast…

  She was drifting away. This victory was empty, actually. It meant nothing. There was something above her that she couldn’t grasp, a mass of darkness floating in the Crystal Ring that seemed to be a house with blind windows and locked doors…

  Hands fell on her shoulders, a massive sensory shock. Someone tore her from her prey, as she’d wrenched Ilona off Josef. The hands, transmitting rage, turned her round like pincers in her flesh.

  She found herself looking into Karl’s face. His anger, cold and ferocious, was alarming. She’d never seen such rage in his eyes before.

  “Leave my daughter alone,” Karl said quietly.

  Charlotte was behind Karl, staring at Violette. She looked shaken, but said nothing. Instead she went to Josef and dropped to her knees beside him, her head bent in concern, more like a daughter than a vampire.

  Ilona was leaning back against the wardrobe, white. Her neck, bent to one side, was jewelled with blood.

  “The protective father,” Violette said wearily. Her fear evaporated as Lilith’s rage stirred again.

  His fingers tightened. “What have you done to her?”

  “Ask her what she was doing to Josef.”

  “As if you care about him,” Karl said grimly.

  Despite his fury, he seemed very controlled. So it was to her astonished horror that he bared his fangs and lunged at her throat.

  “Karl, don’t!” Charlotte cried.

  Violette sprang to life, broke Karl’s grip and thrust him away. Lilith’s strength returned and she knocked him halfway across the room. There was a moment of stasis, black and distorted. Violette surveyed the scene as if watching a play: Karl, holding onto the chair that had arrested his fall, Charlotte hovering, not knowing which of them to protect.

  Poor Charlotte, thought Violette, forced to watch her loved ones trying to destroy each other. Ilona struggled like a broken-winged bird, while Josef curled around his anguish and shame. How wretched this was. How ghastly.

  Even Karl is not physically stronger than Lilith, she thought. Perhaps no one is. And this gives me no pleasure. It is meaningless.

  She wanted to flee. Instead she stayed, held by their unearthly stares. Karl circled her, as if giving a wide berth to a snake, and gathered Ilona in his arms. Violette heard her whisper, “Get off me!” The remark brought a cold smile to her lips.

  “You’d better take Ilona away, Karl.” Charlotte’s voice was low, shaky. “I’ll look after Josef.”

  “And Violette?” No inflexion in his voice, but Karl gave Violette a look of wintry contempt. Her own emotions withered to grey stillness. She loathed herself.

  “And Violette,” Charlotte said firmly. “She won’t hurt me.”

  * * *

  Charlotte was so angry, both with Violette and Ilona, that she could barely speak as she helped Josef into bed. He stumbled as he went, clutching his torn clothes around him with both hands. His face was white
. He would not meet her eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Charlotte asked gently.

  “Yes. Yes. She took no blood.” Lying back on the pillow, Josef closed his eyes, pain ploughing his forehead. “Not much, at least.”

  “I’ll send for a doctor,” she said, looking at the wounds all over his chest. The punctures from a vampire’s fangs healed quickly, but Ilona had made most of these with her nails.

  “No!” he exclaimed. “No doctor, please.”

  “But some of these might need stitching.”

  “And how in heaven do I explain how I got them?” He shuddered. “She – Violette stopped her before it was any worse – Oh, my dear, I am so sorry.”

  Seeing his distress, and knowing Ilona’s habits, she could guess what had happened. Dismay washed through her. Ilona liked to seduce before she drank. Although Charlotte could not rationally hold Josef to blame, she felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t resisted.

  She’d idealised him, but he was only human.

  “No, it’s my fault, Josef. I put you in danger. I meant no harm, but one vampire draws others.” She went to touch his forehead, but he jerked away.

  “Don’t touch me,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m ashamed of what happened,” he said hoarsely. “So ashamed.”

  “Do you want me to send for Robyn?”

  “No! She must never know.”

  “But your wounds need dressing. If you won’t have a doctor or Robyn, there’s only me.”

  He turned away, folding up around his pain. “I know you mean well, but leave me alone, please.”

  Sighing, Charlotte left him and went to Violette. The dancer was sitting in an armchair, legs crossed, one foot pointing and flexing in the air. Extraordinary that she could switch from violence to repose so quickly.

  “Is it true?” Charlotte said. “Did you save Josef from Ilona?”

  The vivid blue-violet eyes came into focus. “I was saving my father,” she said.

  Charlotte caught her breath. “Dear God.”

  “Yes, I caught her about to do what she did to him. The same mutilation. I had a crazed idea that if I saved Josef, I’d somehow save my own father. As if I could turn back time and prevent the trauma that ruined our lives. That’s why I went crazy with her.”