The Dark Blood of Poppies

by Freda Warrington

  In their ecstasy, they allowed themselves to experience happiness. For once, they held nothing back. This was perhaps the first time they had loved each other without artifice.

  Robyn was almost out of her mind with joy. She never wanted this to end; to stroke Sebastian’s beautiful body and his dark hair, to have those seductive eyes endlessly on her; to have him all around her and inside her, flesh soldered to flesh. And more, to know that his passion was as desperate, ravenous and blissful as hers. To inspire such fever in him…

  She was grateful to Rasmila now. That experience had taught him, as nothing else could, that it was Robyn he really wanted.

  Climaxing in lightning, in rains of fire, Robyn drew his head down to her shoulder. She wanted his mouth on her throat, wanted the pain. She would have given him anything. She had no virtue left to sacrifice, but she could give him this: the deeper sacrifice of her life-fluid.

  When Sebastian lifted his head at last, he seemed overwhelmed that she’d given her blood willingly. And for that look of wonder, she could forgive him anything.

  “Is it over, then?” she whispered as they lay together in tangled sheets. Her fatigue was so heavy she thought she might never move again.

  “What?”

  “The war between us.”

  “If you want it to be.”

  “Where was it getting us?” she asked. “Trying to ruin each other, break each other’s heart… what was the point?”

  “To nourish our pride,” said Sebastian. He’d never looked more desirable; his hair disordered, his face coloured by her blood. “It seems pointless now. Dry, dead, unimportant.”

  “Shall we call a truce, then?”

  “Only a truce, my lady?” he said. “A peace treaty, at the very least.”

  * * *

  Sebastian stood watching Robyn as she slept. She was sleeping more as the days went by. Too pale. However careful he tried to be, each time they made love her languor deepened.

  He was troubled. The emotions aroused by the mere sight of her face disturbed him. Do I worship her, or only her human life-energy?

  There may be other women prettier, younger, or sweeter in nature, he thought, but none of them is Robyn. No, I need Robyn for herself. With all the faults that make her so like me, in all her magnificent warmth, she is unique. No one else will suffice. Ever.

  The knowledge made him feel agitated, terrified. In loving her I’m acting completely against my instincts. How has she done this? She’s changed me, and in doing so she’s destroyed what I was.

  She made me admit my feelings, but she has never once said, “I love you,” in return.

  So she has won the game. All I can do in retaliation is to keep her here, and thus control her… but for how long? Until she grows old? Will I still love an old woman, out of her mind because a vampire has kept her prisoner for years?

  Verging on horror, he reached down and stroked her hair. Robyn pushed her head against his hand, smiling in her sleep.

  No bad dreams now.

  * * *

  After Charlotte left, Karl half-wished he’d gone with her. He had no fear of the Neville family’s wrath or their opinion of him. For Charlotte’s sake, he thought, to prove she hasn’t deserted them for a fiend who tricked and ruined her, but for someone who truly loves her, I should have gone. And for the respect I owe Dr Neville, and the affection I once felt for them.

  Yet here I am, putting Violette before her… again, for Charlotte’s sake.

  Charlotte telephoned with the news of her father’s death. She would stay for the funeral… But when it was over, she called again to say she was staying a while longer.

  “I can’t explain over the telephone,” she said, sounding too calm, not herself. “I’ll be a few days, that’s all. There’s something I have to sort out with my family.”

  Dr Neville’s death saddened him. Karl had nothing but fond memories of his time in Cambridge and at Parkland Hall, until Kristian’s wiles had caused him to betray himself. Neville had been a kindly man, generous enough to welcome a foreigner, Karl, into his home. For which I thanked him by stealing his daughter, drawing other vampires to the family.

  Still, Karl dwelled for a while on memories: their long philosophical discussions in which Dr Neville had treated no theory as too outlandish. Even speculation of the Crystal Ring’s existence.

  Karl was in Violette’s apartment, aware of every human in the house and those who came and went. He could hear dancers in the studio, the pianist starting and stopping, Violette’s crisp voice giving instructions. And on lower floors, seamstresses, set designers, kitchen staff at their work… even the quick warmth of a cat, twining around the legs of a delivery boy. Normality…

  Then Karl sensed shadows, presences poised on the threshold between Raqia and reality. He looked up as they coalesced before him.

  Two angels, swathed in long hair: midnight and ice-white silk.

  “Rasmila, Fyodor; this is unexpected.” Karl rose to greet them, startled but careful not to show it.

  “Oh, I think you knew we’d come back,” said Rasmila. Her eyes were spheres of obsidian, lit by white comets and blue stars. Karl still found it difficult to look directly at her.

  “Fyodor got his wish,” said Karl. “Lilith removed me from Simon’s presence, to the relief of all. Did that help your cause?”

  Karl guessed, from the tightening of their faces, that they still hadn’t found favour with Simon.

  “You’ve no cause to mock us,” Fyodor said sharply. “I can’t see you as an enemy, however hard I try. I asked Charlotte for help and she obliged. I’m grateful.”

  “We are not Lilith’s enemies, whatever you think,” said Rasmila. “We want to help her.”

  “I believe your ‘help’ is the last thing she needs,” said Karl, “but would you come to the point of why you are here?”

  “Lilith-Violette has a particular interest in a human female, does she not? An American.”

  Karl regarded them warily. How on earth have they found out about Robyn? I thought only Charlotte and I knew, unless these creatures are omniscient, acting as Simon’s spies. Then he remembered Violette’s story; that when she’d paid a visit to Robyn, Cesare had followed her.

  “Where did you hear this?”

  “Rumours,” said Fyodor.

  “I couldn’t possibly comment,” said Karl, “on rumours.”

  “You don’t have to.” Rasmila came closer. In her sari of indigo sewn with tiny mirrors, she seemed to float. “Someone is on his way to see you. Someone very upset and desperate. When he has gone, we will come back and explain.”

  The air opened and closed to receive them.

  Karl could only think, grimly, that this was some plot of Simon’s.

  Moments later, a human came running to the door, knocking urgently and entering without waiting for him to answer. Violette’s maid, Geli.

  “Sir? There’s a gentleman to see Frau Alexander. I told him she’s not here, but he won’t go away. Madame’s working, I can’t disturb her.”

  Karl felt Rasmila and Fyodor still present, invisible. Spying, without question. He must warn Violette.

  “I’ll see him, Geli. Who is it?”

  “Dr Josef Stern,” said the girl. “He’s downstairs.”

  “Tell Madame anyway. If she’s annoyed, tell her to shout at me, not at you.”

  Karl found Josef in a small office. He was stood with his hat in his hands, his thick silver hair in disarray, his face lined with anxiety.

  “Ah, Karl,” he said uneasily, “forgive the intrusion. I gather Charlotte is away.”

  “Yes, for several days.” He shook Josef’s hand, cold and formal. “Can I help?”

  “I’m not sure. I really don’t know what to do.”

  “What is it?”

  Josef hesitated, then apparently decided to trust Karl. He took a letter from his coat pocket and offered it, seeming close to tears.

  “It’s my niece, Robyn. You met her in Boston. S
he’s disappeared. I received this letter from her companion, Alice. I might have thought Alice deranged, if not for what I know… about your kind.” His voice sank on the last words.

  It must take courage, Karl thought, for him to approach me, knowing what I am.

  The letter spoke of a vampire named Sebastian Pierse. The language was wild, barely comprehensible. Robyn had taken this vampire as her lover and apparently lost her sanity. He’d attacked Alice and the maid, Mary; he might even have murdered Robyn’s lover Harold. Now Robyn had vanished, leaving a curt note. Alice concluded that Sebastian had abducted her.

  Karl absorbed all this, incredulous. Sebastian. God help Robyn, if it’s true.

  As Karl read the letter a second time, Violette entered in her grey practice clothes.

  “Dr Stern,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

  Karl raised his eyebrows in enquiry. Josef nodded, so Karl passed the letter to Violette.

  She said nothing at first. But when she looked up, her face was transformed by silent, devastating fear.

  “Do you know this Sebastian Pierse?” Josef asked.

  “I met him once,” Karl said, “a long time ago.”

  Violette’s lips parted but no sound came out. Karl gently prised the letter from her hands.

  “Who is he?” Josef cried. “How could this happen?”

  “I have no idea,” Karl said.

  “How was it possible for him to be in Boston, without you or other vampires knowing he was there? Why did you not warn us?”

  “Did you warn Robyn about us?” Karl asked. Josef subsided, looking grey. “We didn’t know. Vampires usually sense each other from a distance, but some have no detectable aura, or can shield themselves. Sebastian, as I remember, was like that. Unless we physically saw him, he could keep himself invisible.”

  “And is he dangerous?”

  No point in giving Josef false hope. “Do you think I am evil?” Karl asked.

  Josef’s larynx rose and fell. “Yes, I’m afraid I do.”

  “You didn’t trust me with your niece, although I would not have laid a finger on her, out of respect for our acquaintance. Sebastian, unfortunately, has no such scruples. If Alice’s letter is true, I’m not optimistic.”

  Josef looked as if his heart would fail. He said hoarsely, “Can you help me find her?”

  Karl groaned inwardly. Secretly he was mortified by the news and half-blamed himself, but he never let such feelings rule him.

  “I would if I could, but Robyn could be anywhere. We have troubles of our own here. I’m sorry.”

  “Of course, I should have known better than to expect concern from you,” Josef said bitterly. “After all, she’s only a human being. I thought Charlotte might have cared, that’s all.” Josef put a hand to his face, hiding tears.

  “No, you’re mistaken,” Violette exclaimed. “I care. We’ll help you find her.”

  Josef’s gaze caught hers like a hooked fish. He reddened and dropped his eyes. As if, Karl thought, he knows the nature of Violette’s feelings for Robyn.

  “We can make no promises,” Karl said quickly. “I suggest you write to Alice again and obtain clearer information. But if we discover anything, we’ll let you know.”

  Karl gently but firmly brought the meeting to an end. Looking drained, Josef retrieved the letter and made for the door. “I’d be so grateful. I’m sorry to have troubled you.” He gave a crisp, Viennese bow. “Madame, mein Herr.”

  When he’d gone, Violette began to pace the room like a starved tigress.

  “Another vampire with Robyn!” she breathed. “I thought she was safe!” She turned on Karl, eyes blazing. “I left her to keep her safe! How could we miss this other vampire? How did he get to her? God, if only I’d let her come with us!”

  “Violette, try to be calm,” said Karl. “I understand your feelings, but while we have the threat of Cesare over us, there’s no chance of searching for Robyn.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that? This is all I need! Who is this Sebastian?”

  “I barely knew him. He once came to Holdenstein and made trouble with Kristian. Some of us hoped he’d become an ally against Kristian, but he would have none of it. He seemed to despise all vampires equally.” He thought sadly of Ilona, with whom Sebastian had toyed for a time. “And I understand he’s cruel with his victims. He likes to play before he kills them.”

  “And now he’s playing with Robyn.” She shuddered. Then her eyes opened wide. “Wait, I’ve seen him! When I was in Robyn’s room, and realised Cesare was there, and I fled to lead him away – another vampire followed us! I thought he was one of Cesare’s followers, but he wasn’t. He was alone. Tallish, slim, very dark. Aloof, as if everything were beneath him and amusing.”

  “That sounds like him,” said Karl.

  “I never sensed him in Robyn’s room – but what if he was there? Yes, her face… as if she was suffering. She actually said, ‘Take away the pain.’ And I didn’t. I failed her. Again.”

  “Violette, come upstairs,” Karl said gently. “Rasmila and Fyodor are here to see you. I think it’s about this.”

  Violette glared at him, but said nothing.

  “Be careful,” Karl added. “Anything they say is probably designed to trap you.”

  “No one is more wary than me,” she said aridly.

  They were waiting in Violette’s living room, like polarized twins; Fyodor silver-white, Rasmila a carving of rosewood and jet. She had once provoked lethal tenderness in Karl, given him her blood when he was starving, only for the blood to put him in her power like a drug. She would not take him in again.

  “I thought I’d seen the last of you,” Violette said. “How dare you come here unannounced? What do you want?”

  “To help you,” said Rasmila.

  “How?” Karl said. “Why should she trust you?”

  “Why should I trust anyone?” said the dancer. “Karl cannot bear me, although he’s too well-mannered to admit it. And you two have brought me nothing but misery.”

  “That’s in the past,” said Rasmila.

  “Is it? We’ve heard tales of woe from Simon and Fyodor. But you are the worst, Rasmila, with your pretence of passivity. You condone the lies with which women destroy themselves. You delivered me to a man who almost raped me, and called it God’s will!”

  “But God’s will is that –”

  “Whose god?” Violette cried. “That of the Catholics, or the Jews, or the Hindus, or Kristian’s god? They are all different beings. I don’t know which one you worship.”

  “There is only one God,” Rasmila said, unmoved, “as you should know. Please listen. We don’t hate you, Lilith. We’re only protecting the Crystal Ring from what it will become if you do not surrender to God.”

  “The Crystal Ring,” Violette said softly. She turned away and perched on the arm of a chair. “Yes, the storms are my fault, and the black stone mass that hangs there like a tomb…”

  “Do you want to destroy vampire-kind?” asked Fyodor.

  “Destroy my own children?” She gave a thin, humourless smile.

  “Mothers do,” said Rasmila.

  “What’s your justification for blaming everything on Violette?” said Karl. “The strange object in the Ring could be unconnected.”

  “No,” said Violette. “It’s connected to me. I feel it.”

  Karl said, “But this artefact – what is it?”

  Rasmila shrugged. “A mystery. I’ve tried to discern its nature but I cannot lift the veil. All I know is that it is deadly to us.”

  Karl remembered trying to approach the dark fortress with Charlotte, being flung away by its cold, leaden force… Rasmila spoke the truth, but this didn’t answer his question.

  “So, Cesare’s right to want me dead.” Violette’s voice was low, sinister. “Should I take my own life, to save him the trouble?”

  “No. Lilith cannot die. She’s been here from the beginning.”

  “Like the Devil, I know, but wh
at would you have me do?”

  Rasmila moved closer to Violette, with Fyodor hanging back behind her. Karl watched in apprehension. Violette could attack like lightning.

  “Come with us to Simon. If we deliver you to him, he’ll accept us again,” said Rasmila. “If the three of us were reconciled, God would give back our angelic status and lift the veil. We want peace in heaven. Not war.”

  “And Simon and Cesare will win, with Lilith back in chains,” said Violette. Karl expected contempt from her. Instead she sounded bleak, as if she’d already surrendered.

  “For the good of all. Lilith may not want peace – but you do, Violette. In your heart.”

  “And what shall I receive in return?”

  “We’ll tell you where to find Sebastian and Robyn.”

  “I could find them myself.”

  “But not so swiftly. And if we warned him – never.”

  Violette went ash-white. Karl, concerned, placed a hand on her forearm, but she shook him off. “I find your threats repellent – but I agree, all the same. If I find you’ve told me the truth, I’ll do anything you want afterwards.”

  Fyodor and Rasmila exchanged joyful looks. Their relief was tangible. Karl felt only foreboding. “You promise to come with us to Simon?”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  “Good. You will find them in Ireland. County Waterford, in a great house called Blackwater Hall.”

  Violette raised her head with the dignified resignation of someone walking to the gallows. “How is Robyn? No, don’t tell me. I only trust my own eyes.”

  “We’ll be watching,” said Fyodor. “To ensure you fulfil the bargain.”

  A rim of Crystal Ring light shone briefly round the two immortals, azure-bright against the dull lavenders of the room. They bowed, and disappeared.

  “I must leave at once,” said Violette. “I need only a minute to change my clothes.”

  “Violette, do you know what you’ve agreed to?”

  She paused with her hand on the door to her dressing room, blinking as if she’d forgotten Karl was there.

  “No. Do you? If I save Robyn’s life, nothing else matters. And if I don’t, nothing matters anyway. They think I can heal Raqia by surrendering to them – and who’s to say they’re wrong? Even you half-believe it, don’t you? So don’t start a lecture about falling into traps.”