The Dark Blood of Poppies

by Freda Warrington

  The meeting chamber was ablaze with torch-flames. The air was hot, golden, smoky, sweltering with the heat of mortal excitement. Ten minutes to midnight; the transformation was imminent. Soon Werner and his comrades would no longer be novices but initiates, steeped in the mysteries of the Crystal Ring.

  Werner thought of his mother. John had tried to stamp her out, but he still kept a small shrine for her in his mind. If only she could see me now, how proud she would be!

  It did not occur to him that she might have been horrified. He saw nothing but perfection in immortals.

  The vampires, all dressed in scarlet satin, were awe-inspiring, like fallen angels in cardinals’ robes. The humans were in white. Empty vessels to be filled, Cesare said.

  Gathered in two separate groups, they waited for Cesare to enter. Werner’s eyes were moist, his breath shallow. No one said a word. Vampire thirst pressed on the air as heavily as the novices’ apprehension.

  There was a stir. The Leader, at last! Cesare entered, flanked by Simon and John, all three in red. Their arrival generated a bow-wave of power; solid, certain, absolute.

  A cheer rose as Cesare seated himself in the ebony throne.

  Werner saw him as a vessel of pure light, a prophet, a messiah. Such love shone from his silver eyes!

  Werner was overwhelmed. Under such leadership, he thought, I shall want for nothing, I’ll never stumble and fall. This is the first day of the future, a new world, for ever and ever. Moisture gathered and spilled from his eyes as Cesare raised his hands and began to speak. Simon and John, standing on either side, were smiling as Werner had never seen them smile before.

  “Some news, my friends, before we begin,” said Cesare. “For too long, our brotherhood has laboured in the shadow of the Enemy, Lilith. Lives have been lost in the fight against her. However, tonight… It’s my joy to inform you that threat is over. Lilith came here tonight, as predicted. John, Simon and I overpowered her, bound and destroyed her. She surrendered because she knew –” Cesare had to shout over the exuberant swell of voices “– she knew that her time is over! God was with us and we did His will. All of you helped defeat the Enemy through your devotion! And now the future is ours.”

  An explosion of cheering; Werner shouted himself hoarse. How terrible that day had been when Lilith invaded the castle. This news was almost unbelievable, the end of a nightmare.

  With a gesture, the Leader instantly changed the mood to one of solemnity.

  “Conserve your energy, my friends,” he said. “Never in history has our gift been bestowed on mortals in such numbers. All of you stand here now because you proved worthy to enter the Crystal Ring. Well, there’s nothing more to say. The time is here. I hand you to Simon. You have an abyss to cross – but God will go with you, and I will be waiting on the other side.”

  Utter silence. Suddenly Werner was very scared. He looked at the man beside him but his eyes were fixed ahead. Each of them was alone.

  Simon stepped off the dais, and the humans flocked around him. He was like a winged archangel and yet so warm, so benevolent.

  “Place your trust in God,” he said in reassurance. “Each of you will be paired with an immortal who will take your blood and your life. There’s nothing to fear, because you’ll receive it back, and more. Then we shall form one great circle, a rosary, if you’ll excuse the analogy, to generate a flow of power and lift you into the Crystal Ring. A process so simple that there’s only one thing more to say: God be with you.”

  Werner was trembling as the vampires, who’d been allocated their partners in advance, began to move among them. The leaders themselves were taking part. Werner prayed to be paired with Simon or Cesare – anyone but John.

  Instead he found himself looking into Ilona’s eyes.

  A thrill went through him. He hadn’t been allowed to see her for weeks. How perfect that it should be Ilona!

  Werner smiled, but her darkly burning eyes looked straight through him. He was puzzled, thinking, Doesn’t she know it’s me, doesn’t this mean anything? It must!

  She placed her hands on his shoulders. Around them, other couples were doing the same, as if about to begin a bizarre courtly dance. Her lips, satin cushions in which two daggers nestled, were as red as her robe. Werner’s pulse drummed so hard he thought he would faint.

  Then, at some unheard signal, Ilona struck.

  A violent shock of coldness and pain. Werner had anticipated pleasure: receiving none, he was stricken. Instead he felt he was in a cage of freezing iron bars, and Ilona was a winter sky looming over him, or a crone, pushing his cage under the surface of an icy black flood.

  He felt her lips on his neck, taut with the urgency of thirst. Her slender body was hard against his, no consideration in her mind beyond her own need.

  Werner was choking, drowning. Then, with a hideous sense of disconnection, he found himself floating near the ceiling, watching the scene from above.

  He saw his comrades, each in the same lethal embrace, faces turning bluish-white, eyes closing, mouths opening. Some fought, some were passive, others responded like passionate lovers. All were dying.

  Then, as one, each vampire released their partner and joined hands, with their own victim and with the one nearest, until a great circle was formed; red, white, red, white, like rubies and pearls on a necklace. The vampires pressed shoulder to shoulder to hold the wilting men on their feet. Werner could see himself, pressed between Ilona and Pierre. Oh, and some lucky soul with Cesare and Simon.

  He felt no emotion. Only curiosity.

  An invisible string tugged him. With a rush, he was back in his body. Still alive, barely. His vision was a mosaic of colours and faces. His heart and brain felt ready to explode. The hands that held him were stone.

  Then emotion rushed back. Wild panic, black terror. Mother, help me, what am I doing here, I didn’t mean to –

  Ilona sucked out what little remained of his energy.

  The chamber swirled and vanished.

  And the visible world rolled back to reveal the fires, the writhing smoke-clouds and the livid red chasms of hell.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE CHALICE OF CRYSTAL TEARS

  Charlotte raced through the Crystal Ring, so far beyond sanity that it was as if she’d ceased to exist. Her madness was not a prison of mortal anguish, but a complete loss of her self.

  She soared between mountains, arms outstretched, rising away from the Earth. Raqia flowed around her: lava and blue flame. A dazzling light drew her upwards; she was nearing the Weisskalt but she was beyond fear. Even the cold could not touch her.

  Faint doubts played a counterpoint to her mania. But the Weisskalt means death. Am I like a human, throwing herself from a cliff in the crazed belief she can fly?

  Charlotte couldn’t stop.

  She ceased to be aware of her body’s dimensions. Her skin was no longer a membrane separating her from the Crystal Ring. Its energy flowed freely into her, until she encompassed the whole firmament…

  This is what Simon has done to me, she thought.

  Or am I doing this myself? Simon’s voice: We’ll be angels together, Charlotte. If it happens to you, you’ll know… And her own words: You forget who you are. You lose your sanity. You become just a cipher for the Crystal Ring.

  Dear God, it’s happening.

  Heart-stopping, wondrous, terrifying. And she had no power to resist.

  The snowy blaze of the sun drew her. Its searing light filled the sky, a veil between her and the ineffable light of heaven…

  Charlotte arced high above the electric white plain of the Weisskalt. She was a comet with a tail of glittering ice-dust, and the cold was no more than dew sifting over her.

  She pierced the veil. Blinding radiance possessed her.

  This was the light Simon called God. She understood now. Knowledge came like a clear, purposeful voice. You cannot change what you have done. It is past. There are others who need you now, and knowledge to be discovered. Seek. Your only
purpose now is to unlock the truth.

  A revelation – but not of God. To Charlotte, the light revealed not one presence, but a billion. There could be no deity in the light because it had no prejudice, no chosen ones, no judgements to make. It was pure energy, the impartial fire of wisdom, life.

  She saw stars, planets, galaxies whirling in the void. She touched the edge of the universe.

  The brilliance began mercifully to fade. Passing the apex of her flight she curved downwards, out of the Weisskalt and into a sea of storms. She noticed that her demon-form had changed from dark to bright. Her limbs and body were glistening alabaster, webbed with rainbows of opal and palest gold.

  Yet all this seemed natural. As if in a dream, Charlotte observed without analysing. She was out of her mind, but fearless.

  Descending, she saw a dark mass floating below her: the amorphous fortress that she dreaded. No surprise to feel a powerful emanation, pulling her down until the vast sable bulk filled the world. She dropped clean through its fabric into absolute darkness.

  Angel, goddess, cipher: whatever she had become, she was afraid.

  Black walls enclosed her. Although she could see nothing, she felt a profound change in the atmosphere. This wasn’t the Crystal Ring, nor Earth… more like some strange limbo in between.

  A wash of light appeared. Charlotte was in a corridor with soft carpet beneath her feet, paintings on papered walls.

  Instinct made her look down at herself. She was in human form again! Two selves at once; the immortal, and the innocent girl, walking along this corridor to an encounter with Karl that would leave her changed forever…

  Karl was waiting for her, she knew. The knowledge filled her with anxiety and delicious excitement.

  A door stood ajar, and through the gap fell the glow that drew her. She pushed open the door, and there was Karl, caught in the evocative flicker of candlelight. He was naked, his body a long white flame on the darkness. A lean, beautiful sculpture, exquisitely lit and shadowed.

  In her trance-state, Charlotte’s mind asked no questions. Their meeting was inevitable and perfect. The sight of him brought an intense thrill of anticipation, as if they’d never met before. His gaze, absorbing her, was dark, reflective, sad, fiery, alluring, all at once. And Charlotte knew that if she had changed, so had he. They were strangers to one another… yet there was a deeper recognition between them. No need for words.

  Karl took her hand and led her into the room. She made out detail and lovely soft hues in the shadows; damask, brocade, Regency furniture. She caught her breath. So like the bedrooms at Parkland Hall… exactly like Karl’s room, where they’d seduced each other that first, magical time.

  This could not be Parkland… but the goddess inside her accepted this strange magic.

  Charlotte saw a large four-poster bed. On the disordered covers lay a lily-pale figure. Violette. With a languid hand she brushed her raven hair out of her eyes and looked up at Charlotte.

  Then the dream began to twist and darken. Charlotte felt incredulous, fearful, confused. Karl would never betray me but… Violette in my place? Violette and Karl?

  Looking enquiringly into their faces, she saw no guilt in their eyes, no apology; only dark intelligence. Tender, seductive invitation.

  And she knew that Violette had fed from Karl. His unnatural flesh had erased the scars, but a single bloodspot remained on his collarbone like a birthmark. And it showed in his face: a haunted look. Of course she had fed.

  So Lilith has finally had her way, Charlotte thought, in a state of weirdly calm horror. All her threats… “How strong is your love, if it can’t survive my bite? I’ll take you away from Karl… and you’ll never see me coming.”

  And Charlotte hadn’t seen. Violette had got to Karl first. Intense love brought intense fear of loss, and sometimes Charlotte had wanted that agony to end. To detach herself from Karl, not to care so desperately. In reality, losing that passion would be infinitely worse, it would be hell, but now it was too late.

  If Lilith had drawn Karl down into Hades, Charlotte had no choice but to follow.

  Without a word, Karl drew Charlotte towards the bed. Violette stretched out her arms and spoke her name. Her tone was raw with need. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Karl kissed Charlotte’s neck from behind and began to undress her. He lifted her dress over her head and threw it aside, and with the garment she shed the lingering horror of the burial. Karl and Violette no longer seemed the people she knew and loved, but strangers with enigmatic, sinister intentions.

  Even through her fear, she was wildly excited. The new power inside her asked no questions but simply drifted along, accepting, welcoming.

  Naked, Charlotte lay on the bed between Violette and Karl. Their hands flowed lovingly over her, their hair brushed her skin. The beautiful sensations made her weep.

  She bathed in memories like fire. Ah, the first time, when she’d come to Karl’s room in innocence, only to find she couldn’t leave… That imperative passion heating the air between them. Both aware it was wrong, but knowing, deliciously, that they couldn’t stop. And the breathless miracle… no longer to behave as decorous strangers, but to lie mouth on mouth, flesh on flesh, melting into each other, sated and insatiable.

  Now they lived it again. And how strange and wonderful that Violette was here with them, that they could all share this without jealousy or guilt.

  None of this can be wrong, she thought, when my whole life has been leading me to this place. Charlotte sank in ecstasy. Karl was inside her, where he belonged, his face soft with rapture. Violette’s mouth and hands were travelling over her. Incandescent pleasure.

  Charlotte’s lips found the dancer’s neck. She bit down. First taste of her blood for such a long time. The wine of purest love. Charlotte cried out through the blood. More than love, this was sorcery.

  Then came the moment Charlotte had dreaded.

  Lilith’s devastating, transformative bite.

  Her words again, “I’ll come back for you and Karl. I’ll do it. I’ll take you away from Karl and you won’t care…”

  In her bliss Charlotte had half-forgotten the threat. She’d been trapped, seduced into this, yet it had to happen. There was nowhere else to go.

  Except into each other.

  “Do it, Violette,” she whispered. “If Lilith’s taken Karl, you can’t leave me behind. I know you’ve always wanted this.”

  Writhing against Charlotte in her own bliss, Violette’s canines stabbed into her throat. Charlotte gasped. Karl’s hands held her shoulders and his body was pressed to hers, their legs entwined. Violette’s arms went around her waist with her hands resting on Karl’s flanks. The three of them spiralled outwards on the crest of enchantment to a different level of consciousness.

  A single, slow heartbeat. Their faces and crystalline eyes floated close to hers. And in their eyes – amber and violet jewels – visions floated, layers of mist peeling away to reveal forgotten histories.

  Karl and Violette hovered on the edge of truth, but seeing only darkness they hesitated. They had lifted the veil but they had not entered the shrine. They waited for me, Charlotte thought in joyous amazement. They needed me and they waited for me!

  Now she understood. Losing her mind in Raqia, she had absorbed the persona of a goddess, just as Violette had become Lilith. Charlotte was Isis, empowerer, interpreter, light-bringer.

  I’m ready. Don’t be afraid.

  Clasping each other, they became a thorned circle; Violette feeding on Charlotte, she on Karl, he on Violette. And they gave themselves up to the darkness and let Lilith have her way.

  Terror, falling, great wings beating like a storm.

  Warm darkness surrounded them. They were travelling down into the Earth. Lilith became Persephone, leading them through the underworld to the primal womb that was also a tomb. Karl and Charlotte became the god and goddess who must descend before they can rise again.

  Whatever ancient power Simon had drawn from Ra
qia’s subconscious currents, Charlotte found something far older, history’s deepest secrets, concealed for thousands of years. The wisdom of Isis was a cool diamond on her forehead.

  She saw serpents dancing in a circle of fire: Lilith and her consort, Samael. She saw men cutting their own flesh so their blood soaked into the ground. She saw Lilith as a seductive witch, then as a terrified woman fleeing through a forest.

  And then a million images came, raining down like blood-drops.

  Lilith lives in the night, haunting human dreams. She is in exile but won’t submit; defying every attempt to suppress her, her fiery rage echoes down the aeons. She is the Black Goddess of sexuality and wisdom, terrifying to men – but why is she so feared?

  The cool diamond poured light into the shadows of Lilith’s soul.

  Goddess and god, Charlotte and Karl walked the underworld: Charlotte like Kore, walking freely into the darkness; Karl like Osiris, sacrificing his blood as a penance. Their blood flowed into the mouth of Violette-Lilith-Persephone, Queen of the Underworld.

  In turn they fed on the fruit of Persephone. The pomegranate bled, its red crystal seeds bursting on their tongues. The fluid of life.

  Persephone’s fruit changed them, making them one with darkness forever. But they understood the darkness now. They drank its beauty. They met Lilith-Persephone not as destroyer or ruler, but as friend, healer, lover.

  The chamber that contained them was the fruiting head of a poppy, life-in-death. Scarlet petals flamed around them.

  Then the luscious ruby-red vision faded. They were in the bedroom again, wrapped around each other, their blood wholly mingled from their mutual feast. Drops lay scattered like garnets on their throats and breasts.

  How beautiful it feels, Charlotte thought, to be touched in absolute love.

  Violette looked exhausted, the ends of her hair plastered to her breasts as if by sweat or blood. Charlotte felt too drained to move. She looked at Karl. He was dishevelled, his eyes drowsy.