The flames died. Wisps of smoke and steam carried a black stench into the night. Geli leaned on Violette’s shoulder and cried, but Violette was numb.
The fire chief, a big stern man with an old-fashioned moustache and whiskers, wanted words with Violette. She gave Magdi to Geli, and turned to him.
“Doctors are on their way, Madame. The smoke is more dangerous than flames.”
“I held my breath,” she said truthfully. “I’m perfectly all right.”
He looked sceptical. “All the same, you need an examination.” He was stern, even furious in a controlled way. “It was foolhardy in the extreme for you to re-enter the building. It’s a miracle you survived. Did it cross your mind you were putting my men’s lives at risk?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, gazing into his eyes, willing him not to question her any more. “I’m truly terribly sorry. But it’s my ballet.”
He cleared his throat. “I appreciate your feelings, Madame. And your prompt action on discovering the fire undoubtedly saved your girls’ lives.”
“Is it safe to go back inside?”
“Out of the question,” he said severely. “The damage must be assessed. If there’s structural damage…” He shook his head.
“Thank you,” said Violette, and walked away.
All around, neighbours were offering her staff beds for as long as they needed. Such kind people, Violette thought. Once she had calmed her girls and ensured that they all had somewhere to sleep, she changed into a borrowed dress and coat and slipped away. Violet dawn was glimmering under the edge of night. The air was chilly. Ashes of anger were bitter on her tongue.
Cesare, you damnable cowardly pig.
Attack me, if you must. I can look after myself. But my dancers can’t and you knew it, you bastard. You knew.
And I can’t protect my ballet single-handed. It kills me to ask for help, but for their sake, I must.
Violette raced through the Crystal Ring. It was turbulent, the dreamscape flowing like indigo rags across a sapphire void. She sensed the dark knot in the Ring’s fabric above her, a black moon trying to pull her into its orbit, a black sun radiating death.
Karl and Charlotte weren’t at home. She paced around their drawing room until the grey dawn in the balcony windows brightened to blue. Appearing from the Crystal Ring, they greeted her with astonishment.
“What’s happened?” cried Charlotte, rushing to her. Violette had washed hurriedly at a neighbour’s house, but the fire-stench clung to her.
“I hate asking for anything.” She clasped Charlotte’s hands. “But I need your help. We had a fire. No one was hurt; I got them out in time, by pure luck. How can I admit the fire was my fault? I made the enemies who attacked us.”
“You are sure it wasn’t an accident?” said Karl. There was never kindness in his face when he looked at her – not that she expected any. Each resented the other’s hold over Charlotte, and always would.
“No, it was Cesare. I met him and he virtually admitted his intention, only I didn’t understand what he meant at the time.” She told them about her journey to America and back. “I sensed two people running away from the ballet premises as I arrived. Humans, not vampires. He hadn’t even the courage to start the fire himself!”
Suddenly she couldn’t speak. Hurt rage. Terror of what might have been.
“Violette,” Charlotte said, hugging her.
“Everyone thinks I have no feelings, but if anything happened to my dancers I should die.”
She turned her face into Charlotte’s shoulder. “It’s all right,” Charlotte said gently. “We’ll help. It goes without saying.”
Karl made no comment, but at least he didn’t object.
“Cesare knows he can’t touch me – but he can threaten everyone around me. That gives him complete power over me. Of course, that’s what he wants. The fire was a warning.”
A silence. Then Karl said, “He may be trying to provoke you into attacking him.”
“He’s making a fine job of it!”
“So don’t take the bait.”
“I suppose Pierre, John and Simon condoned his actions,” Violette said acidly. “And Ilona? But why can’t they fight their own battles? I never meant to make enemies of them – but their weakness is precisely what makes me despise them!”
Their shocked expressions took her aback. Do I sound so bitter?
“Forgive me,” she said. “I forget I’m talking about your daughter, Karl. You have every reason to be on Cesare’s side.”
“I am on the side of common sense,” he replied with his usual cool restraint. “Charlotte, will you go to Salzburg with Violette? I am going to Holdenstein to have a word with Cesare.”
* * *
“The damage doesn’t look too bad,” said Charlotte. “Will you go on with Witch and Maiden?”
Violette couldn’t reply. How sad the house looked in the revealing light of day, the milky-green rendering blackened by smoke, the lower windows boarded up. Perhaps it can be repaired, she thought… and then, will we have to make it a fortress?
“I don’t know,” she said bleakly. “I’m not sure it’s worth it.”
Then, to her surprise, Violette saw a woman outside the front door, dithering as if she didn’t know whether to stay or go.
“That’s Ute!” exclaimed Violette, hurrying to meet her.
Ute was on the doorstep, suitcase in hand, looking distressed. Seeing Violette, panic came into her eyes.
“Madame, I want to come back,” she said in a rush. “But no one answered, and I saw there’s been a fire, and I was so afraid… Is there still a Ballet Janacek?”
“Yes, there is,” Violette said firmly.
“Then will you have me back, please?”
Violette saw no fang-marks on the ballerina’s neck, no trace of bad memories in her face. Yet the attack had effected a subtle change in her.
“What about your father?” she asked coolly.
“I decided to defy him. While you were in America I cried myself to sleep each night, knowing I should have been with you. I had time to think… and suddenly, a few days ago, I realised I’m not afraid of him anymore.” Her eyes were large with hope. “Madame, is it too late?”
“It depends how much condition you’ve lost.”
“I practised in secret every day!”
“Good. I have a role for you but you’ve missed so much rehearsal time,” Violette said brusquely. Ute’s face was radiant, but Violette couldn’t afford to show any emotion. If she did, she would break down, or worse, express it disastrously as blood thirst.
“Madame, thank you. I don’t know what to say – but where…?”
“We’ll find you a hotel for now. Things will be difficult for a time; we need alternative accommodation and a rehearsal room until the building is repaired – but we will come back. Witch and Maiden will be performed as scheduled.”
Violette glanced sideways to see Charlotte’s brilliant smile mirroring Ute’s.
“One thing,” Violette murmured, “just one thing has gone right today. Ute, I never gave your place away.”
* * *
“Tell me the truth, Pierre,” said Karl. “Cesare isn’t bringing young men here for your sole benefit, is he?”
“Like bringing grapes to an invalid?” Pierre sat at a rough-hewn table, reading by candlelight. In shirt-sleeves and grey trousers, he looked clean, at least. He seemed better, but shadows of fear lingered in his eyes. “Well guessed, Karl. If he was doing it for my benefit, he’d bring women. Actually, he’d bring Violette, on a spit, with an apple in her mouth.”
“You seem more like your old self, at least.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
Karl sat on the bench beside him. “What does he want with these humans?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“I’ll guess, then. I know Ilona is recruiting them.”
“Of course,” Pierre said sarcastically. “Young, strong, heterosexual men are what he wants.”
Pierre shook his head, looking away. “Stop this, Karl. He’ll hear us.”
“Are you afraid of him? I’m not.”
“You don’t have to live here.”
“Neither do you.”
Pierre sighed. “Leave it alone, mon brave. What happened to your policy of non-interference?”
“I simply want answers. Cesare feels so threatened by Violette that he’s forming an army against her. And sending human agents to terrorise her by setting fire to her property.”
“I know nothing about that.” Pierre hung his head, but Karl grabbed his collar and dragged the vampire around to face him. Pierre’s eyes fluttered with alarm.
“Answer me.”
“Why didn’t you kill him when you had the chance?” Pierre burst out. “You let him live, so whose fault is it that he runs amok?”
“Well, he’s a fool if he thinks a human army can protect him from Lilith,” said Karl.
He released the collar. Pierre put his head in his hands and groaned. “Oh, Karl, Karl. Use your imagination.”
Candlelight gleamed on Pierre’s brown curls, on the pallid fingers entwined through them. Karl released a horrified breath. “Liebe Gott. He means to transform them?”
Pierre gave a single nod, not looking at him.
“All of them?” Karl was aghast. Right or wrong, he believed in preserving the exclusivity of vampires, both for their own benefit and that of mankind. The creation of even one vampire required grave consideration. His own pain, Charlotte and Ilona’s suffering, Katerina’s death, Kristian’s megalomania and Violette’s madness… all proved that the initiation of a single vampire could bring disaster.
“A few at first, but maybe hundreds by the time he’s finished. Even thousands.” Pierre sounded off-hand, but he was shaking.
“Do you approve of this?”
“Of course not, but what can I do?”
“The Earth can’t support that many of us. What the hell is he trying to do?”
“Destroy Lilith, exterminate his enemies, conquer the world,” Pierre said with a sneer. “Just the usual. Cesare’s an evangelist now. Kristian liked to keep his little dark empire cloistered here, but Cesare wants to take it to the masses. Imagine it, a race of golden immortals, eager to do his will. What heady nourishment to the ego! The inferior mass of humanity to be kept as cattle, of course. Us and them, to the extreme.”
A nightmare, Karl thought. Hell on earth. “Has he transformed anyone yet?”
“No, he’s training them first. He’s learned by Kristian’s mistakes. John breaks them, then Cesare becomes their golden saviour. A few proved unsuitable, so…” Pierre drew a fingernail across his throat.
“And he’s using only men?”
Pierre shrugged. “He doesn’t like women, does he? They’re useless, except as tools to further his cause.”
“He has to be stopped,” said Karl.
“I’ve told you too much.”
“Then leave here with me now!”
“I’m a lost cause, my friend.”
Karl stood, put one arm around Pierre’s shoulder and leaned down to his ear. “If you don’t face whatever it is Violette has done to you, you’re going to die. Is that what you want?”
Pierre shrugged again. “Where is Cesare?”
“In Kristian’s rooms. He’s usually there.” Pierre looked up suddenly. “Don’t…”
“What?”
“Take any stupid risks.”
Karl whispered so softly that even a vampire could not overhear, “I won’t, my friend. I have unfinished business, that’s all.”
He found Cesare in the meeting chamber, as Pierre had suggested. There were humans guarding the door and flanking Cesare’s carved ebony chair. No one tried to stop Karl. Cesare watched him approach, as if he’d carefully arranged himself in this relaxed posture – in Kristian’s throne. Obviously he knew I was here, Karl thought wearily.
“I trust you had an interesting conversation with Pierre?” said Cesare.
“I’m sure you heard every word.” Karl ignored his musclebound attendants.
Cesare’s smile was one of benign wisdom. “Pierre told you a lot, and you may have guessed the rest, but the extent of your knowledge is irrelevant. You can’t stop us.”
That’s true, Karl thought, unless I break my vow not to interfere. At this moment, killing Cesare seemed perfectly desirable. Whatever he felt for Violette, he couldn’t countenance terrorism against her dancers, or other innocent humans. It stank of Kristian’s methods. Blackmail.
Killing another vampire wasn’t easy. To drain him of blood then behead him was the most straightforward method. Karl had found it nearly impossible to kill Kristian because he’d been so physically strong. But Cesare was weaker than Kristian, an easier target.
“You must realise that to create vampires in large numbers would be obscene,” said Karl.
Cesare’s expression was obdurate. “You condemn us because you don’t understand. If I could make you see! Stay, Karl, and you’ll come to realise…”
Karl sprang, swift as light, and pinned his wrists to the chair arms. Cesare seemed paralysed. His head strained backwards, eyes flicking back and forth under half-closed lids. A fist struck Karl’s back and hands clawed his arms, but he ignored the men trying to protect their master. He nipped Cesare’s smooth pale neck, feeling distaste. The priest-vampire’s robe smelled musty, like the castle, but the blood in his veins was fiery enough.
“Violette is not the Devil,” Karl whispered through the blood, “and you will leave her alone.”
Cesare tried to escape into the Ring, too slow. Karl went with him, still feeding, and pulled him back into the real world.
Something changed. Karl sensed it even through his blood-frenzy. Radiance filled the corner of his eye, a new presence that lit the whole chamber.
Karl was wrenched off his prey and flung aside. He hit the flagstones with Cesare’s scream filling his ears; his fangs must have torn the tender flesh. Karl landed on his back, gazing up at a golden-haired immortal, as splendid as a lion. Next to this being, Cesare seemed a colourless sibling.
Simon. Archangel, envoy of God, deceiver. And beside him was John, a scarred crimson bull of a man.
Karl made to regain his feet, only for Simon and John to lunge and hold him down. He struggled fiercely, but John’s strength was bizarre, as if he were massively heavy. Simon caught Karl’s throat and exerted vicious pressure, enough to break flesh, to snap tendons, crush the spine… to remove his head with one hand, if he chose.
No point in entering Raqia, because they would follow. As Simon smiled into his eyes, Karl experienced a fear that he hadn’t known since Kristian’s death.
“You won last time. Now it’s my turn, Karl.” Simon’s nose was an inch from his. “Circumstances change. I used to be as weak as you, but now I’m stronger. Don’t delude yourself; Cesare’s right, you can’t stop us. So if you’ve any sense you’ll join us, you and the lovely, obliging Charlotte. You must become my lovers because you’re too wise to be my enemies… aren’t you?”
His eyes were burning amulets, hypnotic. Karl felt the onward rush of a terrible philosophy, a monumental change that could not be averted. Soul-destroying. He closed his eyes in despair.
Simon slid his hand over Karl’s collarbone and under his shirt. Then he struck. Sharp pain pierced Karl’s veins. He felt his vitality flowing into Simon, while the angel-demon pressed his body hard to Karl’s, flattening him along the floor.
Over Simon’s shoulder, Karl saw Cesare smiling. He resembled a boyish monk, his hair a crisp halo.
“You can’t leave now, Karl,” said Cesare. “You’re ours.”
Karl was floating in euphoric weakness, enmeshed in pain. Simon finished at last and raised his head, his mouth crimson, his eyes sultry flames. His body shuddered against Karl’s like a fulfilled lover.
“Oh, Karl,” Simon breathed. “I have wanted
to do that for such a long time.”
* * *
Charlotte was alone in Violette’s apartment above the studio, arranging bowls of white roses in hopes of sweetening the air. It was a room of silver-greys, muted lavender and ashes-of-roses tints; soft, luxurious, melancholy – and tainted by the bitter-sour smell of dead fire.
The blaze hadn’t reached the upper floors. No one was meant to re-enter the building, but there was no danger to vampires, and the fire chief would never know.
At this moment, Violette was downstairs, convincing the police and the fire brigade, as only she could, that the fire had been caused by an electrical fault.
And Violette was a fresh heroine for the newspapers. BRAVE BALLERINA FIGHTS FIRE TO SAVE THIRTY LIVES – AND CAT exclaimed the evening papers. Charlotte had been protecting Violette from reporters all day. The blood of three now sang sweetly through her veins.
She was waiting impatiently for Karl. She tried to resist checking the clock, but her anxiety was increasing. What kept him so long at Schloss Holdenstein? He can look after himself… But memories of the castle chilled her. Even with Kristian dead, I still feel it’s dangerous, she thought, stripping leaves from a rose stem. A thorn pricked her finger. A drop of blood oozed out. She looked at the perfect red cabochon on the pearl whiteness of her skin, then absently licked it away. A tiny fork of lightning struck her tongue; strange, disturbing, that even the taste of her own blood could electrify her.
I should have gone with Karl, she thought. If only Stefan had stayed, he could have helped protect Violette… Whatever he thinks of her, he would have done so for me. I wish Karl wouldn’t insist on taking such risks alone! But I admire his independence, so I cannot complain.
She watched the tiny puncture heal and vanish.
An unsettling feeling crept over her… A frosty, unnatural presence lurking behind a bedroom door. Waiting for her or for Violette? Charlotte went to the panelled door and turned the handle. The presence was radiant yet cold, and eerily familiar.
She opened the door and halted on the threshold, transfixed.
The being was white, obscured by a veil of opalescent light. Far from threatening her, it lay half on the bed, as if it had fallen and couldn’t get up.
The Dark Blood of Poppies Page 34