The Dark Arts of Blood

by Freda Warrington

  Karl exhaled. Perhaps she was right, but he couldn’t let the matter drop.

  “Two men tried to kill you,” he said softly. “They harmed you in a way that we don’t even understand. Yet you’re suggesting that we walk away?”

  “Actually, that’s what you have always told me to do.”

  “Dearest, you insisted on sitting through an appalling film for the second time,” he said mildly. “That is not how I define walking away.”

  “It’s different.”

  “Is it?”

  “I wasn’t looking for Amy with revenge in mind, only curiosity.”

  “You think that I want revenge on those men?”

  “Don’t you, a little?”

  “Very well,” Karl conceded. “Yes, you’re right, but more than that I want answers. And so do you.”

  “Yes, answers. Always. How do you manage to talk your way round me, every time?” She pulled a mock-angry face at him.

  “I call it being reasonable. We both want the same thing, so we’ve no reason to argue.”

  “True,” Charlotte said crisply. “Then we won’t be breaking your rule not to pursue humans for personal reasons. We’re searching only for understanding. Pure knowledge.”

  “Exactly,” he said, smiling but serious.

  She exhaled. “Aren’t we wondrous creatures? Half of me was dying to drain poor Amy’s blood that night, while the other half hoped that she would get better.”

  Karl kissed her cheek, his lips lingering. “As I always felt about my cherished, human Charlotte,” he said softly. “Lucky for Amy that she fell into the arms of a vampire she could trust.”

  “Well,” said Charlotte. “Lucky for her I was feeling kind at that moment, and not ravenous. Never trust a vampire.”

  * * *

  Stefan’s house was a handsome chalet on the shores of Lake Lucerne, with carved eaves, balconies, and a long veranda a few steps above ground level, perfect for his future house guests to sip champagne and admire the sunset. Karl approached through the dusk, watching the last molten glow of the sun swallow its own reflection in the water. Behind the house, meadows rose towards dark pine forests. Mount Pilatus floated in glory, vast and awe-inspiring.

  So peaceful, Karl thought, sighing because he knew why Stefan created such homes for himself and Niklas. Spider webs.

  “Where’s Charlotte?” Stefan asked, opening the door before he knocked.

  “Violette wanted to see her. I’m alone,” said Karl. He stepped inside at Stefan’s invitation and took in the scent of new pine, Persian rugs, spring flowers.

  “Oh, I so want her to see our house.” Stefan managed to pull a face and grin at the same time. “She could have brought Violette with her. Unless Madame was in a mood to tear off my head?”

  “She only tears the heads off those who deserve it,” Karl said mordantly. “But she’s calmer these days. Your head is safe.”

  “Truly?” Stefan led him through a number of spacious rooms and downstairs to a living room on the lowest floor. Long windows opened on to the veranda that overlooked the lake. From this vantage point, the building seemed to be afloat on the water. “She didn’t go mad when she heard we were here?”

  “She frowned,” said Karl.

  Stefan laughed. “That’s all? She really has mellowed.”

  “Ah, but what was going on in her head? That should worry you.”

  “As I said, we’ve no intention of interfering with her or her precious ballet, as long as she leaves us in peace. Have we, Niklas?”

  His twin came to stand beside him, as quiet as a cat. Stefan slipped an arm around his waist.

  “And as we told you,” said Karl, “it won’t be you who causes problems, but your visitors. I know you too well, Stefan. You’ll fill up the place with idle young rich people as you always do. Other vampires will be drawn here. Ones who are less amenable to obeying your rules.”

  “Karl, I can manage my household,” Stefan said mildly. “There’ll be no trouble, I promise. Look, there’s no one here yet: we’re rather enjoying the peace. Couldn’t you spend five minutes admiring the beauty of our new home before you start grousing at me? We call this the lake room. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

  “It is sublime,” said Karl. “And I’ve finished grousing, as you put it. I trust you.”

  Red sunset flooded the interior, drenching the three vampires, turning Karl’s dark hair blood red.

  “You trust me?” Stefan said with a grin. “That’s new.”

  “Unless or until you do something insane.”

  “Charming. I know I’ve not been the most reliable of friends. Yes, I used to sit at Kristian’s feet and do his bidding… You could accuse me of bending with every wind that blows, but at the time I knew no better, and I was afraid of him. And in awe, because he saved both my own wretched life, and Niklas’s. He gave us that precious gift.”

  “I’m not criticising you for that,” Karl said evenly. “We were all Kristian’s puppets in those days.”

  “But I broke away from him, for the sake of dearer friends: you, Charlotte, and most of all Niklas, my twin soul. And Violette. She’s a dragon, but who can help loving her? La Belle Dame Sans Merci.”

  “She’s changed us all, in one way or another.”

  “For the better?” said Stefan.

  “I believe so,” said Karl. “Yes, I opposed her initiation, but Charlotte went ahead regardless, with your help. I believed disaster would follow. For a long time it seemed I was right. Some vampires come out of the transformation insane, and remain that way.”

  “Kristian,” Stefan murmured.

  “Quite. But Violette mastered herself. Eventually – though, heaven knows, it was an epic struggle – she found understanding and peace.” Karl paused, recalling her description of the spectre that had attacked her in mid-ocean. “As much peace as she can hope for, at least. I admire her strength.”

  “Well, she’s become a figurehead for us, whether we want one or not,” Stefan said wryly. “And I truly don’t want my presence to upset her. Has it occurred to you that I might just wish to spend some time with Niklas in calm and solitude?”

  Karl gave him a sceptical look. “I suppose anything is possible. No parties, then?”

  “In time. We’re not making any promises. Are we, Niklas?” His brother, a gilded china doll, gave Karl an empty stare and a half-smile. “But for now… rest. Did you bring the, er, artefact?”

  “That’s why I’m here.” Karl drew the bundled scarf from his coat pocket and let it fall open, so the bone-handled knife rested across his open palms. It twitched. He felt its cold energy numbing his hand even through the cashmere.

  Stefan stroked the haft, snatched his hand away, then tried again. “Interesting sigils. Do you know what they signify?”

  “Apparently a maze, with a skull at the centre. Its eyes are closed, which is anatomically impossible. What it means, I have no idea.”

  “Any insights at all?”

  “One,” said Karl. “Charlotte believes the knife to be carved of human bone.”

  “Oh? Suitably macabre. I do hope she’s right.”

  Stefan took the dagger from him, cupping it in both hands with the scarf beneath, as if cradling a baby bird. He said nothing, only stared at the weapon’s yellowish glow with glazed eyes. The sunset deepened to crimson.

  “How is Charlotte?” Stefan asked after a while.

  Karl hesitated. “In truth, I’m not sure. She says she’s well, but I catch her in a trance sometimes… She still thinks the lamia is haunting her, and that I’m in danger too.” He stopped, not wanting to tell Stefan the painful details.

  “She’s suffering from delusions?” Stefan, who rarely took anything seriously, looked alarmed.

  “I don’t think she is.” Karl stared out at the blood-soaked sky. “If it’s real to her, then it’s real. I think she is still in shock. At first she was eager to find out who attacked her: now she wants to turn away and pretend nothing happened. Yet she s
eems rational, as sane as she’s ever been.”

  “Which isn’t very sane, since she consented to run away with you.” Stefan gave a wry smile.

  “I will find the men who attacked her. She says she’d be happier if I forget them, but I can’t.” He groaned. “Stefan, I love her with all my soul, but sometimes I wish I had walked away and left her human, after all she’s suffered…”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone suffers. You know perfectly well that she would endure it all again, and worse, to be with you. And so would you.”

  “True. She’s stronger than she seems. Violette, in the shape of Lilith, showed us fearful visions of the future, but she also helped to release us from fear. Made us more free to be our true selves.”

  “I should like her to feed upon me again,” murmured Stefan.

  “Still, I think part of us resists such drastic change,” Karl went on. “Suppose you feel guilt for drinking human blood. You think you’ve shed your conscience, then it comes back in a different guise. Visions, hauntings… anything.”

  “I don’t bother with guilt,” said Stefan. “Never have.”

  “I noticed,” Karl said acidly. “But even if you try to be less of a ravening beast, kinder and less lethal to humans? That beast is still inside you. It will find another way out.”

  “I am rarely lethal to humans,” Stefan retorted. “I love them. That’s why they give their blood freely, and keep coming back for more.”

  “For heaven’s sake, I am not talking about you in particular. I’m speaking of vampires in general.”

  “I know,” said Stefan with a teasing smirk.

  “I should know better than to expect a meaningful conversation about this. Well, are you happy to keep the dagger for us?”

  Stefan’s face went blank and he made no reply.

  “Stefan? What are you thinking?”

  “About all the deaths.” His tone was unusually sombre. “You think I’m irredeemably superficial, but you’re wrong. I’m thinking about our last great battle to stop Cesare and Simon creating a new army of immortals.”

  “You weren’t there,” Karl said mildly.

  “That doesn’t stop me brooding about it. You can’t think I was unaffected? Cesare’s plan was maniacal, bound to fail. But all those deaths… Fyodor, Rasmila and Simon. All those human apprentices, promised immortality – dead! Sebastian Pierse, taking himself to the Weisskalt. Sebastian, of all the heartless devils ever to walk the night, destroying himself over a human! Who would have predicted that? And Katerina. Even Kristian. So many deaths. Does it not make you feel we’re hanging on a thread of spider-silk, those of us who remain?”

  Karl walked to the windows and looked out at the rippling red lake. “It’s unlike you to be so melancholy.”

  “I know. Frightening, isn’t it? But I remember Violette’s words, after Schloss Holdenstein was burned to a shell, when we all gathered and made peace.”

  “So do I,” said Karl. “She said our purpose is a selfish one: to live for blood, to bring pleasure and nightmares to mortals. Not to change the world. The Crystal Ring itself won’t let us. She said that everything men do is in denial of death. They wish to live forever. But no man can avoid his fate; no mortal can escape Lilith. That’s why they invented God: to annihilate the crone of death. But a few take the risk of embracing Lilith and accepting her kiss.”

  “Yes,” said Stefan. “Then Pierre asked if we become immortal, and Violette answered, ‘We live a little longer, that’s all.’”

  “‘Man turns his back on the great mother, but she will come anyway, dressed for battle like the Morrigan, and take her revenge for being rejected,’” Karl added. “So Sebastian said.”

  “And something about us feasting like vultures on their folly?” Stefan smiled, rewrapped the blade and locked it in a desk drawer. “I don’t think I’d want that.”

  “I’ve already tried it,” said Karl. He recalled mist drifting over the mud and trenches of a battlefield. He had moved like a spectre from one dying soldier to the next, as if by taking the last drops of their blood, he could understand their suffering… “It’s not an experience I recommend. If we don’t stand outside human folly, it will drag us down and destroy us.”

  “A wise sentiment.” Stefan went to Karl’s side and rested a hand on his shoulder. “I like humans. I like to tease and bring them pleasure, not death.”

  “Mm. You are as pleasurable and harmless as laudanum, or cocaine,” Karl said acerbically.

  “No one’s perfect.”

  “I should go. You’re sure you don’t mind keeping the knife? If anything strange happens, let us know immediately.”

  “Like what? Will ghost hands use it to stab me in the night?” Stefan laughed. “You worry too much.”

  “No, I believe my level of worry is usually all too accurate.” Karl smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Wait, before you go,” said Stefan. “Let me offer you a drink. A small token of friendship. A gift.”

  He pushed back his sleeve and offered his wrist, raising the heel of his hand towards Karl’s mouth. Karl hesitated, only for a moment: then he took Stefan’s hand, touched his lips to the soft skin, bit down and drank. Accepted the gift.

  * * *

  Charlotte entered Violette’s private apartments, a bower of lamplight glittering on crystal chandeliers and mirrors. The colours were silver and grey, with touches of black. Vases of white lilies and roses filled the air with fragrance. The dancer’s maid Geli – a tall, sweet-natured woman who’d been her companion for years – welcomed her, and left her alone with Violette.

  “You sent for me?” said Charlotte, mildly puzzled.

  “Well, I didn’t mean to seem high-handed, but yes. You’re not busy, are you?”

  Violette was sitting cross-legged on a couch, wearing a man’s smoking jacket thrown over her practice clothes. Her face was an ice-sculpture, her eyes too bright. When she turned that look on humans, they would usually flee without her uttering a word.

  Charlotte, who knew her well, was less easily intimidated. Violette had a demeanour that suggested, had she been human, she would have been chain-smoking furiously.

  “I was about to go out with Karl, but it doesn’t matter. He took the mysterious knife to Stefan as you asked. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing and everything.” Violette’s lips thinned. A flush of blood rose to her face.

  “You’re blushing!” said Charlotte. “You never blush. Come on, tell me.”

  “Emil.” Violette’s voice was barely audible, even to vampire hearing. “It’s Emil.”

  “What? Is he injured?”

  “Now there’s a thought. If he had an injury to stop him dancing, that would take the problem away, at least for a while. The foolish, beautiful boy thinks he’s in love with me.”

  “Ah.” Charlotte’s reaction was to smile. She stopped herself, not quickly enough.

  “I’m glad you find it amusing,” Violette retorted. “I think it began after that storm in the Atlantic – good grief, can I truly not hold someone’s cold hand after a terrifying experience without my intentions being misinterpreted? Today I tried to rehearse a few steps with him and he was all over the place. So I asked him what was wrong, and the next I know, he is on his knees swearing undying love! The fool even proposed marriage.”

  Charlotte couldn’t suppress a grin. She lowered her eyes. “Oh, dear.”

  “Oh, dear, indeed. For goodness’ sake – Charlotte, this is not funny. I told him to keep out of my sight for a week, and he responded by punching Mikhail in the face!”

  “What? Why?”

  “I think Mikhail has been teasing him. Emil seemed to think Mikhail had told me, but he hadn’t. To be frank, I’d already guessed… but I was hoping with all my heart that I was wrong.”

  “Has he behaved like this before?”

  “No, but he’s not been with us long. I think our success in America went to his head. I should have guessed… I told you, the idiot nearly
fell overboard in that storm while looking for me. I should have realised then…”

  “I can see he’s rather temperamental,” said Charlotte. “I’m not sure why you’re so angry about it, though.”

  “I am deeply fond of him, but he seems to have mistaken my fondness for something more. He’s put me in an absolutely impossible situation. I cannot work with a dancer who is having… feelings for me. If he won’t behave, my only choice is to dismiss him – but that would mean losing the best partner I have ever had! Do you wonder that I’m furious?”

  “Dear, don’t be too hard on him,” Charlotte spoke gently. “He’s young and you are a goddess. Thousands are in love with you. Only a very select few are ever privileged to touch you… and there is so very much touching involved in your dances. It’s natural for him to be overwhelmed. Every ballet has star-crossed lovers…”

  “It’s called acting,” Violette said frostily. “Rehearsal is tiring and repetitive: the novelty of having lithe bodies all around you swiftly wears off. It’s work. I expect him to be disciplined. Professional.”

  “I’m sure he knows that, but… all that emotion and sensuality can’t be entirely faked, can they? Sometimes feelings must spill into real life. Emil got a little too carried away, perhaps.”

  “Why are you defending him? Oh, I know why – because you have a gentle heart and think the best of everyone. You don’t want me to punish him for having what I suppose are normal feelings. But this – no, it’s not so simple and cannot easily be mended.”

  Charlotte sat beside her at a careful distance, concerned. “Please tell me you didn’t feed on him.”

  Violette’s eyelids fell in dark curves. “No. That would have been wonderfully hypocritical – lecturing him on controlling his appetites when I can’t control mine? No… since that one time with Ute, I never touch my dancers. You know that. But it took only a few words to break his heart.”

  “That you don’t share his feelings?”

  “Yes. And that he must overcome his infatuation, or leave. He must have known what I’d say, but I doubt that made hearing it any easier.”

  “I can imagine. You must have terrified him.”