The Dark Blood of Poppies

by Freda Warrington

  * * *

  Robyn’s lie-in lasted four days.

  Alice and Mary were continually at her side. They insisted on calling the doctor, who was brisk and unsympathetic. He concluded that Robyn was anaemic. Tell me something I don’t know, she thought.

  Yet Robyn couldn’t describe precisely what was wrong. Lassitude, a dream-state in which life had no point. Nightmares of blood and betrayal; in her febrile slumber, every friend was revealed as a vampire. Alice and Mary, Josef, Harold… Violette.

  She dreamed in glaring, fiery colours that she was copulating with priests who turned into demons. She would wake up suffocating, then lie awake, too languid for tears or anger. Simply brooding on Sebastian. Remembering his dark, deceptive beauty. His hands on her body. The soaring fire he’d awakened… she could never forgive him for that, either.

  On the third day, she began to feel better, albeit still strange, as if half-drunk. Perhaps that was why she spoke candidly to Alice.

  Alice removed her lunch tray with an approving look at the empty plates. She fussed with Robyn’s pillows, then sat beside her. The room was full of flowers from Harold and a couple of would-be admirers, but from Sebastian there was no word.

  “The night you were taken ill,” Alice said, “did your gentleman friend stay the night?”

  “Part of it,” Robyn sighed. “I told you his name.”

  “Well, Mr Pierse hasn’t called since.”

  “I know.”

  “I wondered… did he hurt you in some way?” Robyn didn’t answer. “Only I noticed a little mark on your neck, and you’ve been so…”

  “Out of my mind,” Robyn said softly.

  “Don’t tell me to mind my own business. I’m here to protect you, as much as wait on you hand and foot.”

  “I wasn’t going to, you sarcastic beast. Yes, he hurt me.”

  Without emotion, Robyn told Alice everything.

  The housekeeper turned her face away, looking sideways at her mistress with narrow, chiding eyes.

  “You know, I don’t care if you don’t believe me,” said Robyn. “I hardly believe it, either. I was attacked by a vampire who knew everything about me… and I’ll tell you what it was: unfair!”

  Alice blinked. “That’s quite an understatement.”

  Robyn felt a flare of anger, a sign she was still alive. “No, I mean it. I’m the one who takes revenge. How dare he usurp that privilege? Did he think he’d leave me too scared ever to approach a man again? He’s wrong. I won’t give him the victory!”

  “Madam…”

  Robyn subsided, smiling grimly. “So, you think I’ve lost my mind?”

  “I think,” said Alice, unmoved, “that maybe you should see the doctor again.”

  “You don’t believe me,” Robyn said, with perverse satisfaction. “No doctor can help. But that’s all right. I feel better; I’ll get up tomorrow. And to think I expected to be bored when Violette and her friends left town…”

  * * *

  Karl reflected that he and Charlotte had experienced some of their most exquisitely happy moments during the Ballet Janacek’s tour.

  As the tour took them from Richmond, New Orleans, Houston and Dallas to San Francisco and other cities en route, Violette seemed completely fulfilled. Endless travelling, rehearsing and performing filled her days; she forgot her conflicts with Lilith and other immortals for a time. Karl was glad to see her at peace.

  Meanwhile, he and Charlotte walked in deserts, ascended purple- and white-veiled mountains, watched great waterfalls cascading under the moon. They trod the length of the Grand Canyon between its soaring red walls, made love in a glorious wilderness of rivers and giant redwoods. They captivated strangers and sipped their blood without guilt, feeding together as if all inhibition had magically lifted.

  Their truce held. Karl and Charlotte rarely quarrelled for long. Now they were able to discuss Ilona and Violette without ill feeling, but sometimes he thought, If only it were possible not to speak of them at all. No outside force should have the power to tear us apart, not even if that force happens to be Charlotte’s friend and my own daughter.

  “I don’t want to go home,” said Charlotte as they walked along a cliff-edge by the Pacific Ocean. The world was burnt-gold and azure.

  “Don’t say that. Wishes may come true in most unfortunate ways.” Karl took her hand, and led her into the Crystal Ring.

  As they made the transition, their pale flesh turned darkly iridescent, like black opal or colours swirling on oil. The change still amazed him.

  They ran together, almost flew, until they found a bluish, rippling path to the higher levels. It was as if they’d shed their earthly forms to reveal their true natures: slim, inky demons, their hair and clothes turned into glittering webs. Vampire beauty, pared to its feral essence.

  Karl led Charlotte higher until coldness pricked their skin. He was searching for something. Wherever they were in the world, Raqia was still the firmament he knew: a wild skyscape of unearthly colours, threaded with ribbons of magnetism and shifting veils of light like an aurora. Overwhelming, terrifying… with an atmosphere of menace that grew stronger by the day.

  Bronze hills rolled beneath them, as wild as ocean waves. The electric blues of the void darkened to bruised shades of violet.

  “Raqia used to seem tranquil when you first brought me here.” Charlotte clung to his arms as air currents tried to tear them apart. “Now it’s always stormy. What’s happening?”

  “I wish I knew, beloved.”

  They climbed a chasm wall that would have dwarfed the Grand Canyon. Nothing was solid here, but they were near weightless, like fish in water. Below, the Earth was hidden in purple shadow. Above, mist-veils diffused the fierce distant light of the Weisskalt. Between the upper and lower layers hung vast shining mountains of cloud.

  Karl folded one arm around her shoulders and pointed upwards. “There,” he said. “Tell me what you see.”

  “I know,” Charlotte whispered. “It’s everywhere we go.”

  In the restless cloudscape, a great raven mass appeared to hang in one place while ghost-mountains rolled around it. The sight filled him with dread.

  “Describe it,” he insisted.

  “Every time I’m here, wherever I am, that huge black shadow follows me – as if it can be seen from anywhere, like the Moon from Earth.”

  “Yes,” Karl said. “Everyone has seen it, but no one mentions it. Why not?”

  Charlotte stared, alarm in her eyes. “Because we’re afraid.”

  “And do we think that if we don’t speak of it, the shadow will vanish? It won’t. It’s growing.”

  “But what is it?”

  “I’ve no idea. I only know it’s dangerous.”

  “And so cold,” breathed Charlotte. “But you’re right. We should explore, not run away. Isn’t that why we’re here?”

  The structure reared above them like a fortress of obsidian. Such a thing had no place in the Crystal Ring. Karl, despite his unease, was fascinated. Even as he watched, it increased in size, drawing mass from wispy arms of ether that spiralled inwards towards its bulk.

  They climbed. Judging distance was difficult in Raqia, but the structure was closer than it seemed. Charlotte drew ahead of Karl, her scientific curiosity overcoming her sense of self-preservation; a tendency that Karl both loved and regretted. “Be careful,” he said.

  “But I must know what it is.”

  The object became a black wall across the sky in front of them. Charlotte stretched out a hand…

  “Don’t!” Karl cried, too late. She touched the wall.

  Seizing her free hand, he felt the impact like a glacier crashing into them. The shockwave flung them apart. Charlotte was spiralling towards Earth like a winged seed.

  Karl caught her, slowed their descent until they landed feet-first on a lower layer. Charlotte seemed unconcerned that she’d fallen. She was staring at her fingers.

  “It was solid,” she gasped. “Solid. How can i
t be? If the entire Ring turned to black rock it would be dead to us… Gods, would we cease to exist?”

  “Charlotte, don’t,” Karl said softly. The same questions were in his mind too. Is the Crystal Ring dying, or turning against us? No, unthinkable!

  He guided her downwards until the world snapped into reality around them. They were in human form again, on a cliff with the Pacific Ocean glimmering cobalt blue below them.

  “Hush,” he said, clasping her hands. “Beloved, don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not, I’m all right.” He held her, pressing her hands to his chest. Her fingers were frozen.

  “But what’s causing this change? How can something solid exist in Raqia?”

  “I wish I knew,” he said.

  “It means something. Some event must have precipitated this.”

  “Kristian’s death?” Karl said thoughtfully. “The creation of Lilith? Or her breaking of the angels’ power over her, or my placing a dangerous book in the Weisskalt for safekeeping, or our scorn for God?”

  “Karl!” she exclaimed. “Why is it our fault?”

  “It probably is not.”

  “Then don’t take everything onto yourself.” She ran her hand over his cheek and through his hair. Her eyes of violet crystal were alight with curiosity, fear, courage; all the qualities that had drawn him to her. She added, “But what are we going to do?”

  “I doubt there’s anything we can do. The truth will reveal itself eventually… before it’s too late, I hope.”

  “But everything’s connected,” she said, eyes widening. “And if this is because of Lilith – then it’s my fault, because I made her. How can I live with knowing I caused this darkness?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SILVER, CLOSE AS GOLD

  “I shall get up tomorrow,” Robyn had said, but first there was the night to endure.

  She lay half-asleep, delirious. The moon shone through the curtains, a white coin dappling the room with lace patterns. Her bed was a snowy plain, frozen under a moon in another world. She thought the floor was a river that she must cross or die…

  A thin dark figure appeared against the moonlit lace. Her blood began to pulse through her head, slow and heavy.

  “Alice?”

  No reply. She lay there for an aeon with the faceless silhouette gazing down at her.

  In a spurt of panic she cried, “Alice!” – or dreamed she did. There was no answer. She knew that no one was coming to help her.

  The figure came closer. Robyn was confused. For a moment the creature was a hovering bird of prey, Odile in black feathers, the death crone in her most beguiling livery. Violette, she mouthed, but her voice failed.

  When the shape moved again, it changed. Not Violette: too tall and masculine. Still no light on its face, but she recognised the shape of the hair and shoulders.

  “What do you want?” she hissed.

  Alice’s chair was by the bed. The intruder pulled it back and sat down. His nonchalance was infuriating and unnerving. For an instant, as he sat, she saw his profile in the moonlight; the sharp beauty of nose and jaw, one dark soft eye turned obliquely towards her.

  He crossed his ankles, rested his left elbow on the chair arm with his chin on his hand, and sat gazing at her.

  “What the hell do you want?” She was angry now, breathing fast.

  “To see you again,” Sebastian replied.

  Robyn groped to turn on her bedside lamp. The bulb burned, flickered, and failed with a tink. For one second, captured as if by a photographer’s flash, she’d seen his face, his long, pale wrists and hands, the candid, heartless eyes. He wasn’t smiling. The serious set of his lips alarmed her.

  “Well, now you’ve seen me,” she snapped. Oh, God, she thought, hold on. Don’t let him know how scared you are.

  “I can see you quite clearly without the light,” said the soft voice.

  “Who let you in?”

  “No one. I let myself in. Vampires do that, you know.”

  She was unconsciously fingering her throat, trying to gather the collar of her nightdress like a fragile shield. “Oh, I love the way you sit there and admit it! Is this the end, then? You’ve come back for the blood you didn’t steal before?”

  He caught her wrist before she could evade him. He was so fast.

  “If I wanted to,” he said, “there’s nothing you could do to stop me. Scream and fight all you like. If anyone comes to help, they won’t stop me either; they could get rather badly hurt, actually, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that. Oh, Robyn, you’re trembling.”

  He pressed her fingers and let her go. She snatched her hand away and cradled it against her chest. The skin felt ice-cold and numb. Yet her loins contracted and tingled with the memory of his body against hers.

  “Of course I’m trembling. Wouldn’t you, if you were about to die? But I suppose you wouldn’t know what it feels like, since you only pick victims who are too weak to fight back!”

  He was quiet for a time. His silence made her more wretched. Defying him was like defying a thunderstorm.

  Eventually he said, “This is why I came back.”

  “Why? Why are you doing this to me?”

  “I could have killed you, my dear. I meant to drain all your lovely blood… but I stopped. Why did I spare your life, do you think?”

  “To prolong the torture? I’ve hardly left this bed since you were here. I’ve had such fevers and nightmares. I think I’m still dreaming now. But I guess you’re happy to hear that.”

  “No. It’s an unfortunate side effect for those we leave alive. Our bite causes madness, to one degree or another.” Then he added, unbelievably, “I’m sorry.”

  “What?”

  “It gives me no pleasure to see you suffering.” Another pause. He dropped his hands to his knees, leaning towards her. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “I – I don’t know.”

  “I’m not here to prey on you. I only want to talk. I give you my word, though you may be disinclined to believe me.”

  But Robyn did believe him. Even if he’d said he wanted more blood, her answer would have been the same. “No, I don’t want you to leave. I’m curious to know what someone – something – like you could possibly want to talk about.”

  “God, you’re a hard one, aren’t you?” said the vampire. “I spared your life, and I don’t know why. And you want me to stay, even knowing what I am. This is an interesting situation that requires discussion, does it not?”

  Robyn drew herself into a sitting position against the headboard and stared at him, chilled. “Do you always kill your victims?”

  He shrugged. “I take what I want. If it kills them, that is their affair. What I mean is that I don’t usually force myself to stop before my thirst is sated.”

  “And do you always make love to them first?”

  “No, of course not. Far too much trouble. The blood is essential, sex only a pleasurable distraction. I do so quite often, I suppose… but no, not always.”

  “I think,” she said, her throat in spasm, “that you are an utter fiend.”

  “And what about you, Robyn? You have a nice line in making men lose their heads over you. Are you any better than me?”

  “I don’t kill people.”

  “Just drive them to suicide.”

  “I don’t rape them, either.”

  “Nor do I, my angel. I’ve never taken anyone who wasn’t willing. And if I’m in a generous frame of mind, I ensure they experience so much pleasure that they’re willing to die for me anyway. Isn’t it so?”

  “Ah yes, that,” she said bitterly. She resented him for dissolving her self-control with rapture. Conflict raged inside her; how could she accept him as a vampire, an impossible mysterious demon – yet speak to him as if he were a man?

  She knew the answer. Her scepticism had been eroded by Violette, Karl and Charlotte without her even realising. And Sebastian had torn down what remained of the veil. These demons were reasoning creatures
who appreciated the weight of their own actions. Her mouth dry, she said, “So you – your kind – like to seduce before they attack, do they? Make the victim a willing participant, share the guilt. Subtle.”

  “You don’t hate me for giving you pleasure, surely?” he said.

  “Oh, I do. Manipulator and fiend.”

  “Have you not manipulated me?”

  “How?”

  “I’m here now against my will,” said Sebastian. “I didn’t mean to come back, but, well…”

  She looked at the shadow-figure, motionless with his hands resting along the chair arms: a patriarch in a gothic throne. He looked solitary, tormented, lethal. Not a man she could dismiss like one of her lovers. A vampire haloed by the moon.

  And yet so nearly human. A creature she could engage in battle, mind to mind.

  “How did you come to be like this?” she asked on impulse. “Are you very old?”

  “Not old enough. Too many questions, beautiful child. Don’t expect me to shriek at the sight of a priest, or to catch fire in the sun. Can I see you again, when you’re better?”

  He was so charming, when he chose. Almost touching, the way he asked permission, as if he needed it. A wave of fatal excitement rose in her throat, capsizing all common sense.

  “Can you make love to me without…” Her fingernails grazed the place where he’d bitten her.

  “It’s extremely hard not to.”

  “Then it will happen again.”

  “Every time.”

  “And will it kill me?”

  “Eventually,” he said very softly, “if we don’t stop.” He stood and leaned over her. “Well? Knowing this, do you still want to see me?”

  And knowing it was suicidal, Robyn said, “Maybe once.”

  The vampire bent to kiss her. She stiffened; her terror was instinctive. But his mouth only met hers in the gentlest kiss, warmly tantalising. His hair brushed her cheeks. She slid her arms around his neck, only to find herself embracing air.

  After Sebastian had gone – vanished – Robyn turned on her side and lay curled up like a child. After a while she fell sound asleep, undisturbed by fever or dreams.