The Dark Arts of Blood

by Freda Warrington

  “I tasted that on Fadiya, too. Nowhere near as pungent as Wolfgang’s blood, but still there,” Charlotte said unhappily.

  “Dearest, I’m sure that whatever happened to you is not contagious. Come on. We should go back to the party.”

  * * *

  Karl and Godric Reiniger left the salon together and descended to the lake room where several couples were swaying to a romantic song on the gramophone. No one took any notice as they opened the outer door and stepped outside.

  “Shall we stroll along the lake shore?” said Reiniger. “I don’t wish to be overheard, or observed. And it’s a pleasant night, if a touch chilly.”

  Upstairs, Karl had approached him without a clear idea of what he meant to say. Not to apologise: possibly to make peace in some way, but more importantly, to find out who and what Reiniger really was. The question was how to begin the conversation.

  Godric had pre-empted him. “I was unsure if I’d see you again, but I’m pleased. Could we talk in private?”

  Now they walked side by side with the water lapping on their left, reflecting the colourful lanterns. Godric Reiniger’s shorn head and long face were like a piece of sculpture, not exactly handsome, but striking. Strong nose, high cheekbones jutting over long, hollow cheeks, a firm jaw. The lips were thin but mobile, prone to rare smiles that took people by surprise. If he used this unexpected twinkle to manipulate folk, Karl would not be surprised.

  The gold-rimmed spectacles gave him a clinical, intellectual air, at odds with the flamboyance of his white suit. His eyes were hard to read: the distorting effect of the lenses made them appear smaller than they actually were. Once or twice, when he took off his spectacles, the irises were suddenly larger, mesmeric. The frame of pale lashes and brows served to make the blue stare more intense.

  Karl noticed his faint yellowish radiance. Not a normal human aura.

  After a few yards the lamps ended and they went on in darkness.

  “You know what I am, or at least you believe you know,” said Karl. “Aren’t you afraid of me?”

  “Somewhat,” said Reiniger. “I’m not complacent. But people who avoid fearful situations never achieve anything.”

  “And what do you hope to achieve?”

  “Well, we have come this far without you tearing out my throat. That’s a beginning.”

  “Or we aren’t quite far enough away from the house yet,” Karl said without inflection.

  Reiniger made a hmph noise. “I don’t think you wish to harm me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You could have done so before now. Instead, you came back to talk to me. That implies you prefer me alive because… you find me interesting?”

  “Yes, I am prone to make that mistake with humans.”

  “Mistake? You mean you wait to see what they will say and do next, rather than simply kill them? A shame you did not make that ‘mistake’ with my father.”

  “Yes, it is,” Karl said softly. “I cannot justify what happened.”

  His simple admission made Godric go quiet. The lake lapped at the bank. The music and noise of the party grew fainter as they walked on. After a while he asked, “Do vampires have a conscience?”

  “Some do. Some are tortured by guilt, others survive by becoming ruthless. Most of us tread a middle path. We learn to live with ourselves, or perish.”

  “You see, this is why I am not extremely frightened of you. I sense a mote of humanity. You have an enquiring mind. You seem to prefer words to violence.”

  “Always.”

  “As do I.”

  “And why are you talking to me?” Karl asked. “What do you want?”

  “Can’t you guess?” Reiniger gave him a sideways look. His eyes gave Karl a chill. They took on a blank, hard quality, like a prison wall. “A friend of mine died recently. A doctor, a hard-working man who was always on hand to help my colleagues with their ailments. Dr Ochsner. Perhaps you heard the news? He was found dead in his office, apparently of a heart attack. Like my father.”

  “Are you suggesting that I killed him?” The chill intensified, like the unease Karl felt when watching certain films, as if a grey shapeless mass were crawling inside him. The last thing he needed was for this unnerving man to suspect Charlotte.

  “I don’t suppose you’d admit it if you had. Or would you? You could confess to anything and kill me a moment later, so it wouldn’t matter what secrets you revealed. That must be a useful power to possess.”

  “Not really. Any human can kill another, with a gun or even with their bare hands. I am sorry to hear about your friend, but his death was nothing to do with me.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Because if you were the culprit, I would shake your hand.” Reiniger’s voice became gruff. “It came to my notice, after he’d died, that he had injured my niece. My housekeeper Gudrun informed me that after visiting Ochsner, my niece collapsed in the street and might have died, had not a kind female stranger brought her home. Amy herself never uttered a word of complaint to me.”

  Karl was surprised at the outrage in Reiniger’s tone. Not wanting to admit he already knew, he said neutrally, “I’d heard rumours that Ochsner was unpopular with female patients. Didn’t you know that? Are you sure you didn’t want her to be hurt for some reason?”

  “No! I only wanted to protect her health. Ochsner spoke of ‘cleansing’. I didn’t know he’d subjected her to a procedure that should properly be done under anaesthetic, nor that he wasn’t fully qualified to do so. He might have killed her! I could have killed him myself.”

  “He sounds a poor excuse for a doctor,” said Karl, fascinated that Godric’s concern for Amy sounded genuine. But the coldest of men were capable of love, if only a controlling, possessive love.

  “He was a great support to me in the past, but I had no more use for him. I know he was not much liked in the town. And I cannot afford to have unpopular people attached to my cause.”

  “Is your cause more important than your niece?”

  “Of course not! But I have to be practical. Whether you caused Ochsner’s death or not – I’m glad he’s gone. It’s justice. Someone like you could be of great help.”

  “How?” Karl said, incredulous. “By invisibly killing your enemies?”

  “No, no. That is not what I mean. I know you dislike me, Karl, but I am not a fiend.”

  “I don’t dislike you. Nor did I think you were a fiend, until you mentioned it. However, letting your comrades assault Emil, sending your niece to a so-called doctor who deliberately injured her and making the worst films I’ve ever seen – none of that has endeared you to me.”

  “You think my films are bad?” Reiniger’s face stiffened with indignation. “I assumed you to be a man of taste. Was I wrong? Or is it that you simply don’t understand the art of cinema?”

  Karl shook his head. “You sound more affronted about that than the death of your father.”

  “Different matters altogether. I see I shall have to educate you.”

  “I’m surprised my opinion means anything. After all, I’m not human. You’ve spent your life drawing pictures of me, as if to keep my face in your memory so you could take revenge if ever you saw me again. And here I am. But have you brought me out here to solicit flattery, or to kill me? I can’t fulfil either desire, Godric. I’ve only given my honest opinion, and if you intend to shoot or stab me – try it. I won’t die.”

  “Ever put that to the test?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Indeed?” Reiniger paused to light a cigarette. The match-flare dazzled Karl’s sensitive eyes. “Have many people discovered what you are and tried to destroy you?”

  “Not many,” Karl answered with a faint laugh.

  “Good. I didn’t think you were the careless type.”

  “I’m not, but no one’s perfect.”

  “I believe you are as near perfect as makes no difference. Look at you: a fine specimen
of male beauty who will never have to work to attract his prey.”

  “I assure you, I don’t use such wiles—” Karl began, but Reiniger spoke across him.

  “Eternally in your prime. Impervious to bullets, drowning, or the hangman’s rope? Deathless. Able to pass through walls, to sustain yourself on human blood, to bring death without fear of detection or punishment. You sound rather like my ideal human, or the next stage in our evolution. The superior human, who rises above good and evil to dominate the herd. He weeds out all weakness and defects in those around him, and to do this he must act without pity. He engages in epic struggles to become both the supreme warrior and the supreme artist.”

  “Like Nietzsche’s Übermensch?” Karl sighed, unimpressed. “I assure you, I’m very far from that.”

  “He was thinking along the right lines, but my ideas are my own,” Godric retorted. “You may have no ambition to reach the ideal, but I have. Why should I not?” He pointed up at the peaks against the night sky. “Folklore tells us that great Swiss heroes sleep in those mountains. I have felt their presence. Why should I not aspire to wake them? To become them? Who will do so, if not me?”

  Karl tensed inwardly, convinced that Godric was about to attack him out of sheer angry passion. Reiniger sounded mad, but Karl knew he possessed hidden knowledge. He caught a familiar, sour metal stench – the odour of the sikin Godric carried. His blood was thick with a similar smell, but there was a subtle distinction. The blade’s scent was sharp, almost clinical; the blood gamey and complex, an abattoir smell.

  Karl had felt the terrible power emanating from Bergwerkstatt, so forceful he couldn’t break through. He’d seen the power leaking upwards through Raqia, like towers of red light.

  Perhaps Godric had arranged an ambush: Karl could imagine his brutish comrades crouching in the bushes with daggers, bayonets and meat cleavers, ready to cut him to pieces.

  He put out the tendrils of his senses, searching for specks of life. Mice, other night creatures, even fish in the lake were all he could detect. No trace of other humans nearby.

  Even if there were, Karl could evade them in a moment by vanishing into the Crystal Ring.

  But what if Reiniger had some limited control over Raqia? Karl knew only too well that vampires were not indestructible, nor were all humans powerless against them. How can I find out, unless he will answer direct questions? Even then, he could lie, and learn more from me than I learn from him.

  Whether Godric was deluded or genuinely dangerous, Karl still could not read him.

  “What more can you tell me of your gifts?” Godric asked, startling him. “Strength, speed, intelligence?”

  “You seem well informed without my help,” said Karl. “I wonder how you know so much, unless you’ve befriended a vampire, which rarely ends well.”

  “Oh, the knowledge is there, if you’re prepared to dig deep for it.” Reiniger sucked on his cigarette. Its red tip flared bright. “My father taught me that.”

  “Does this talk have any purpose, other than to impress me with your research?” said Karl. “It’s natural that you want revenge. You can try. You might even succeed.”

  “You think I wish to outline how devilish you are before I destroy you?”

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

  “It’s what I should be doing.” Reiniger’s voice tightened. His breathing grew more rapid and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. To Karl’s keen sight each one reflected the cigarette’s glow, like dozens of watery blood drops. “I suppose revenge seems a quite predictable and tiresome motive to an immortal. I understand, because my interest in you greatly outweighs my hatred of you. I think you and I are rather alike.”

  “Dear God, I hope not,” Karl said under his breath.

  “You think you’re better than me? Think what you like. The point I’m making is that, like you, I can put personal antipathy, brute emotion and morality aside in the service of a higher aim. I wish to become a vampire.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SKIES OF FIRE

  Karl stopped in his tracks. Reiniger swung round in front of him, staring hard into his eyes. The force of his ambition was like a hot wind on Karl’s skin.

  “I want to become immortal. I want the effortless power that you possess. I am asking you to transform me into a vampire.”

  A dozen responses formed in Karl’s mind: shades of dismay, anger, acid mockery. No words came out, because nothing he wanted to say would please Reiniger.

  “Well?” Godric prompted, staring eagerly at him. Karl broke the gaze and looked into the distance. “Is my request so preposterous? It happened to you. At least tell me how to go about the transformation.”

  “Why?” Karl said tonelessly.

  “Because you owe me that much, at least.”

  Karl was silent, distancing himself from the desperate heat of Reiniger’s hunger. Caught between the urge to vanish into the Crystal Ring, or simply to snap the man’s neck, he cursed his own instinct to be courteous in all situations.

  Nearly all.

  Eventually he said, “I took your father’s life. Now you wish me to extend yours in exchange? Is that your idea of a bargain?”

  “I wouldn’t put it so simplistically, but yes. You can’t bring back my father, but you can grant me some recompense. Think of it: we could even become colleagues. You made a terrible mistake, but in exchange for this gift, I might find it in my heart to forgive you. We could be equals, Karl. Partners in power!”

  Reiniger made the statement as if it were a glorious, irresistible prospect. Karl sighed inwardly. There was nothing to tell him but the truth.

  “No,” said Karl. “Godric, it’s not what you think. After the transformation, you might feel so different that your human ambitions become pointless. The blood-thirst is a curse. In some ways vampires are more vulnerable than you realise, both to each other and to humans. And the prospect of eternal undeath can be more of a nightmare than a dream. Believe me, it is not what you think.”

  Reiniger’s eyes glistened with impatience.

  “I’ll risk it,” he snapped. “What are you doing – warning me, or refusing me?”

  “Both.”

  “Not good enough. You have this – this gift or curse, whatever you call it – but I cannot share it? That seems unreasonable to the point of selfishness.”

  “Then I’m unreasonable, but I will not create another vampire. I’ve seen too much suffering. Besides, it’s not a straightforward process. It’s not a matter of my draining your blood and leaving you to rise from your coffin. I could drain your blood, but you will merely die.”

  At that, Reiniger stepped back. Karl was glad to see this sign of fear. His sudden pallor indicated that he was not beyond reason after all.

  “Not straightforward?” he echoed, his breathing shallow. “What, then? A ceremony of some kind?”

  “All your research, and you haven’t found the answer for yourself?”

  “There are so many different tales. I found references to a ritual requiring three vampires, but there was insufficient detail. The obvious difficulty lies in finding three vampires who will agree to help the human. That seems as likely as a mouse asking a favour of three hungry cats!” Reiniger smirked at his own wit. “And yet, I found you – or rather, you found me. That’s a great leap towards achieving my ambition. It’s a clear sign this is meant to be. Obviously you know other vampires. I’ve seen them myself. Tell me what to do. That’s all I ask.”

  “I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you. I won’t. Even if your research uncovered exactly what is entailed – well, I can’t stop you finding others to help you, but I refuse to be involved. And you’re quite right; most other vampires would slaughter you before you uttered a word.”

  “Indeed.” Reiniger moistened his lips. His stare held an ugly mixture of dread and determination.

  “Actually, we couldn’t even drain you, since you seem to have poisoned your own blood against us. There are other ways, though
. Some believe that taking life-energy instead is even worse for the victim.”

  The blue eyes widened. Eventually he spoke. “I appreciate the warning, but let’s put all that aside. I am going to ask again. I wish to become as you are: a vampire. Please will you help me?”

  “No,” said Karl. His tone was firm: not angry, but stone cold. “You don’t know what you’re asking. Forget this, Godric. I know you have some kind of occult knowledge and ritual practice. Why shouldn’t you? Everyone’s entitled to their secrets. Why not be content with that? I’ve seen evidence that your power is real. You have your art, your film-making and your followers…”

  “It’s not enough.” Again he pointed towards the Alps. “I need to become my country’s saviour.”

  Karl resumed walking, guiding Godric away from the lake shore so they would loop back towards the chalet. He asked, “Is there anyone in the world you put before yourself? Wife, child, sibling?”

  Reiniger gave a soft snort. “Not really. I have no wife or child. Only Amy, who brings out what little paternal instinct I possess. I have a soft spot for the girl. Yes, I’d always put her well-being before my own.”

  “Sending her to Dr Ochsner hardly supports that assertion.”

  “As I said, I did so with her welfare in mind. Ochsner went too far, much too far, and I can’t mourn him. But, thank heaven, she recovered.”

  “Well, imagine this. You are a newly made vampire with bloodlust raging, and your niece comes innocently to you and asks, ‘Uncle, is anything wrong?’ You would feast on her blood before you even realised who she was.”

  “No! Not her.”

  “But you would. And afterwards you’d realise what you’d done and weep, tear your heart to pieces with self-hatred for the rest of your existence. You say you’re concerned for her welfare. Do you not realise that there is already a vampire in your house who will happily feed on her, if she hasn’t already done so?”

  Reiniger went still. A noise came from his throat, a sort of swallowed gasp. “What,” he said, “what makes you think such a thing?”

  Karl had no intention of naming Fadiya. Knowing that Charlotte and Violette had gone to warn her away, he thought it unlikely she would ever be seen again. Instead he watched the man’s reaction. Although startled, he did not seem as shocked as Karl had expected.