The Dark Arts of Blood

by Freda Warrington

  He knew, without question.

  “Vampires sense others. She has been seen. If you would nonchalantly put Amy and your household in such danger, you do like to play with fire, don’t you?”

  “She promised…” Reiniger’s face was white in the darkness, his teeth bared. “You’re right, Karl, I have knowledge. Of course I know what she is. But she has never touched any of my people.”

  “Then why is she working for you?”

  Godric’s face stiffened into taut lines.

  “I cannot tell you,” he said thinly. “She’s helping me. I’m not entirely unfamiliar with vampires, Karl. I control her. She is not dangerous to me.”

  Lies, thought Karl, but he let the matter drop for now.

  “No vampire can be trusted,” he said. “My point is that we all feed on humans whether they’re family or strangers, innocent or criminal. Blood is blood. I will not create another vampire. I won’t make you into a creature that goes out and destroys lives, as I have for so many years.”

  “All the more reason, then. Since your kind poses such a great threat to me and my circle, how much safer we’d be if I were also a vampire: ruthless, as strong as a lion hunting down the hyenas.”

  “But you have your enchanted or cursed knives to use against us. Aren’t they enough?”

  Reiniger gave him another penetrating, unreadable stare.

  “I can’t speak about that. And no, they are not enough. Karl, you must agree to my demand. One way or another, I will become like you.” He edged closer. With his slightly greater height he almost loomed over Karl.

  Karl’s hand shot out. He wanted to seize Reiniger’s neck, but stopped at the last instant and braced his hand against the man’s breastbone. He acted to alarm him and to push him away. To repel the pressure of his demands, and the sourness of his blood.

  Reiniger radiated a force like electricity or radium, invisible but as tangible as the wind. Karl still couldn’t identify the power, but he was convinced it was connected with the Istilqa knives that weakened vampires and strengthened humans.

  Rarely he’d found an artefact or a place hostile to vampires, but this was different. Reiniger was a blank page, guarding his secrets.

  “You’re missing the point,” said Karl. “I’ve tried to reason with you but none of my arguments have had the slightest effect, have they? You want what you want.”

  “As I said, I’ll take the risk,” Reiniger hissed.

  “Then I will repeat my answer, as respectfully and clearly as possible. No. I will not help you become a vampire. My answer to your demand is no.”

  He dropped his hand. Godric stood rubbing his collarbone, swallowing convulsively, his face like limestone in the darkness.

  “Very well,” he said softly. “You’ve made your position clear, Karl. I should not have embarrassed you with my unwelcome request. I should have known… better.”

  “Your friends will be missing you at the party,” Karl replied without malice. “Let’s go back inside and forget this unfortunate conversation.”

  “Excellent idea,” Reiniger murmured, adding in English, “You cannot blame a fellow for trying.”

  * * *

  “My beloved friends,” Stefan greeted Charlotte and Violette as they re-entered the salon, arm in arm. “You’ve been missed. Up to mischief, I hope?”

  He and Niklas formed a kind of shield to ward off the admirers who immediately bore down on Violette. The room was chaotic now, the mess outpacing the waiters’ attempts to clear away empty glasses and full ashtrays. The band was raucous, guests dancing with abandon. A fug of smoke, alcohol and sweaty perfume filled the air. After the quietness of the night, the noise and bright colours were an assault on Charlotte’s senses. As much as she loved Stefan, she wanted to flee.

  “There was, um, a situation,” she said, kissing his cheek. “All sorted out now.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. So you found your quarry?”

  “Yes, as if she thought not coming to the party would help her.” Charlotte smiled. “Violette, please tell me I haven’t got my dress dirty. Stefan might kill me.”

  “You are pristine,” Violette replied. “Not a hint of dust… or blood.”

  “Well, I daren’t ask what happened,” said Stefan. “If you are going to fight in the street, please don’t do it wearing an exquisite new gown I’ve bought you. Come and mingle.”

  “Just for a little longer,” Violette sighed. “I wasn’t designed to play the gracious hostess for more than an hour at a time. Besides, familiarity breeds contempt. I have to maintain my mystique, you know.” She gave a narrow, self-mocking smile.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. As if they could ever have enough of you!” Stefan retorted.

  “You’d be surprised,” she sighed. “Funny, it hasn’t changed since I was human; if I talk to anyone for more than a few minutes, they start to think they’re my best friend, touching my arm, wanting to exchange addresses… Then, however politely I brush them off, they decide I’m an ice-cold witch.” Violette shrugged. “They may well be right, so it’s safer to keep them at arm’s length before it even starts.”

  “We’ll protect you,” said Stefan. He slipped his hand through her other arm. Niklas walked beside him like a cat with knowing, golden eyes.

  Charlotte wondered, as she had countless times, what went on in Niklas’s head. Sometimes he was an empty shell; at others he seemed fully aware, his lips forever closed on his own mysterious wisdom. Even if he had no true intelligence, he was always serene. And he had Stefan to look after him: there were worse ways to exist.

  “Where’s Karl?” she said, scanning the room. “He went off with Herr Reiniger. Hasn’t he come back yet?”

  “I haven’t seen either of them,” said Stefan. “Do you want to speak to Reiniger about this business of filming the ballet?”

  “I can’t decide,” Violette said darkly. “Half of me says no, not in a thousand years. He’s a dangerous egotist. He has a vampire working for him. His followers have attacked both Charlotte and Emil, and tried to lure Emil away. Who knows what they were planning? But the other half of me says that if I agree, we could get to know him and find out who he really is.”

  “And why he’s got such an odd weapon as the Istilqa knife,” added Charlotte. A series of horrible possibilities ran through her mind: Godric drawing a similar knife on Karl, or Wolfgang and the others surrounding him in the dark… “We should have asked Fadiya, while we had her attention.”

  “She might know something, but it’s too late,” said Violette. “She’s gone.”

  “Where is Karl?” Charlotte repeated, growing more worried.

  “I don’t know,” said Stefan. “Perhaps they’re down in the lake room.”

  As she went on looking around – as if that could make him magically appear – she caught the eye of Wolfgang Notz. For several long seconds they held each other’s stare. This time she did not turn away, but glared right into his soul, silently telling him, Yes, I know who you are and I am not afraid of you. You survived last time, but come after me again…

  He looked younger and more nervous than she remembered. Colour flushed his cheeks. At last he broke the stare and turned away, plainly shaken if not terrified.

  Charlotte caught her breath with a sense of satisfaction. Then a voice spoke in her ear, startling her.

  “I’m here.”

  She had sensed Karl’s presence only a fraction of a second before he spoke.

  “Oh, thank heaven,” she said, leaning her head into his shoulder as he embraced her from behind. “I was worried.”

  “No need.”

  “Did you find out anything of interest?”

  Karl gave a muffled groan into her neck that sent shivers all through her. “I’ll tell you later. We should talk somewhere quieter, I think.”

  “Actually, Karl, I’d like to leave soon,” Charlotte said in a low voice. “Violette wants to go, too. No offence, Stefan, but all these people – how do you stand it?�
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  He grinned, his eyes sultry. “My favourite time is when the crowd starts to thin out and we turn the lights low… Niklas and I always know who our very special guests are by then. Stay.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t think any of us are in the mood for one of your bizarre orgies,” said Karl.

  “Bizarre? Don’t you mean ‘beautifully orchestrated’?” Stefan said in mock indignation.

  “And don’t let anything happen until the Reiniger gang have all gone. We don’t want them associating Violette with your nocturnal activities, do we?”

  “Very well, I’ll hold off the orgy if you’ll all stay a while longer. Relax. Perhaps have a drink?” Stefan winked, giving Violette his most charming smile. “Just an hour or so. Madame, it’s the perfect chance for you to encourage everyone to come to the new ballet, isn’t it? Charm them, promise free tickets. They’ll love you forever, believe me.”

  He kissed her hand, and she relented.

  * * *

  “Emil.”

  The voice made him jump as he entered his dark bedroom. His eyes began to adjust and he saw Fadiya in silhouette against the window. What the hell…? Emil groped for the light switch, and there she stood, blinking in the yellow glow. She clutched her coat around herself, looking upset.

  “How the hell did you get in?” he exclaimed.

  “Hush, keep your voice down! Shut the door. I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to startle you, but I had to see you.”

  He was halfway across the room as Fadiya rushed to meet him. She put her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. Her coat fell open, revealing a plain olive-green dress. Her fragrant form against his hot, damp, aching body felt breathtakingly sensual, but he tried to push her away, not wanting to mark her clothes with sweat stains.

  “You’re like a furnace,” she said.

  “Yes, I’ve been rehearsing. Our ballet masters worked us half to death tonight. Fadiya, you can’t be here!”

  “Don’t say that.” She hung around his neck, tears welling from her eyes and her expression as intense and serious as he’d ever seen.

  “We could have met at the hotel. What’s wrong? If you need me to pay the bill…”

  “No, I do not need you to pay me for anything! How dare you!” She let her arms drop, stepped back and glared. Her mood alarmed him.

  “I didn’t mean… Good grief, what is this? What’s happened?”

  “How hard would you find it to live without me? Not hard at all, I suppose. You cannot love me.”

  “What? That is not fair.”

  “I’m leaving. I only wondered if you might miss me, even a little.”

  “Leaving?”

  Her announcement floored him. He hadn’t known her long but he’d grown dependent on her, almost taking her for granted. He could happily work himself to death for Violette, knowing that Fadiya waited for him in all her welcoming sensuality…

  “You look shocked,” she said softly. “That must mean something.”

  “But you can’t leave. I don’t understand. Fadiya?” He made to kiss her but she held him at arm’s length.

  “Where is Madame Lenoir?”

  “She went to a party,” Emil said, frowning. “It’s not like her to socialise, but she does what she wants, so…”

  “Exactly. She went to a party to which I was invited, but she made sure you were otherwise occupied. When I was late – I didn’t intend to go at all, in fact, because I had no desire to meet her – she came to find me.”

  “What?”

  “Your Madame Lenoir sought me out especially. She said I’m never to see you again. She ordered me to disappear without a word. Threatened me with terrible consequences if I defy her.”

  “Threatened you?” Rage seized him, so intense he couldn’t speak or see clearly. His head throbbed and his vision went nearly black, except for a tunnel along which he saw Fadiya’s distraught face. He couldn’t find words, couldn’t think.

  “Yes, commanded me to vanish and never see you again. But I couldn’t. Emil? You’ve turned crimson. Sit down.”

  “No!” He snarled and lashed out – not at Fadiya, but at a vase on a dressing table. China smashed, shards spinning across the floorboards. She didn’t flinch. Her attention on him remained steady. She pressed her hands to his face. They were freezing on his hot skin.

  “Violette told you to stop seeing me?” he said, enunciating each word. His mind whirled. He had to control himself, to make sense of what he was hearing.

  “Yes. She had a friend with her – as pretty as an angel, but she scared me even more than madame. She tried to attack me. Emil, I’m terrified. I dare not stay in Lucerne.”

  “Was her name Charlotte?” He spoke raggedly.

  “Yes.”

  “I told you – I’m sure they’re not human. Am I going mad, or are they demons of some kind? If they are, that would answer so much… How dare she forbid us to see each other?”

  “Perhaps they’re mad, not you.” Fadiya stroked his face. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

  “I’m not angry with you.”

  “She’s jealous. She doesn’t want you, but she won’t let you love anyone else. Is this how you want to live – like her slave, her eunuch?”

  “Of course not,” he growled.

  “There isn’t much time.” Fadiya’s soft voice became urgent. “Violette might be back at any moment. If she catches me, I truly believe she’ll kill me. Come with me now.”

  “What? Where?”

  “Somewhere safe. I have friends who’ll help me.”

  “I’m not going to Reiniger’s mansion again.”

  “No – I don’t mean there. Somewhere far away, warm and beautiful. Either you come with me now, Emil, or you never see me again. I love you. She never will.”

  He stared at her, his breathing high and shallow. What to do? He saw Violette’s face in his mind and was flooded with rage – beautiful she might be, but with the arrogance of a snow queen. Was glory on stage worth the price of being crushed as a man? And here was Fadiya in front of him, so lovely, warm and passionate. If love withered when it was ignored, it must flourish where it was nurtured.

  “If you don’t want me, say so and I’ll go.” Her eyes brimmed with tears, glistening. “But if you do – throw your clothes in a bag and come with me now.”

  “This minute? I need to bathe…”

  “There isn’t time,” she hissed. “Decide, because I have to go.”

  “I love you, Fadiya.” The words rushed out of him like a thrilling wind. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Then hurry!” She smiled through her tears, her joyful expression contorted with anxiety. Her panic infected him and he dragged out a canvas bag, threw some trousers and shirts on to the bed, along with his coat and hat, money and personal belongings. Fadiya looked out of the window as if watching for Violette’s return.

  Then he stopped.

  “Wait, I have to…” He fumbled in a drawer for writing paper, pen and ink.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I can’t go without leaving her a note.”

  “For heaven’s sake!” She sounded frantic. “Can you count the minutes until Violette comes back? We need to be long gone from here.”

  He was already writing, as fast as his hand would move, tears mingling with his sweat so he could barely see. Fadiya moaned in exasperation. “I’ll pack your bag while you write your goodbye. Quickly! Is there a secret way out?”

  “This place has about twenty staircases. I know the least used. We can escape without anyone seeing us.”

  “Come on, then.” She seized his arm, even as he finished signing his name. Then she paused for long enough to press her mouth to his. So succulent, delicious… For a moment he wished Violette in hell, so he could push Fadiya down on to the bed… but she gripped his hand and dragged him towards the door with astounding strength. “You won’t be sorry, darling Emil. She cannot stop us being together, and happy.”

&nbs
p; * * *

  Dawn brushed the mountain peaks, leaving the valleys in blue-green shadow. As the sky began to pale, Violette stepped from the Crystal Ring into her own living room. Her mood was oddly melancholy but calm. She’d done as Stefan asked: danced a brief solo for the guests’ enjoyment, announced that the Ballet Lenoir would be delighted to receive them all when the ballet opened, and if they left their names and addresses with Stefan they would all receive complimentary tickets. And she had even enjoyed herself, basking in their pleasure.

  Deciding to leave on a high note, she had slipped away, found a victim in the darkness, and then passed into Raqia to rest.

  For once, no visions of the giant skull-demon disturbed her.

  Karl and Charlotte had been with her for a while, the three of them drifting on the ether in a semi-trance. By the time she revived, she was alone. She travelled straight home through the hidden dimension to ensure that no one would see her arrive. Now she had plenty of time to shed her party dress, bathe and put on her practice clothes while her company rose and ate breakfast.

  She let Geli sleep in. If Geli wondered why her mistress required so little attention these days, she was too well-mannered to pry.

  Violette combed out her long hair and folded it into a pleat at the nape of her neck. Standing before a mirror to check that she looked presentable, she noticed Charlotte behind her left shoulder. Violette was so startled that she almost leapt into the air.

  “Gods, Charlotte, that’s the second time – what is it?”

  Her friend’s face was serene, the amethyst eyes unblinking. She looked… not quite herself, as if she were sleepwalking. Paler than usual, and that strange empty look in her eyes…

  Violette finished pinning up her hair and turned. As she did so, someone started thumping on the outer door to her suite.

  Charlotte was nowhere to be seen.

  “What are you playing at?” she said under her breath. She went to answer the door, calling out, “Yes, one moment!”