The Dark Arts of Blood

by Freda Warrington

  No gate on the narrow entrance, but there were guards. Emil saw the dark shapes of men – vampires – wrapped head to foot in Bedouin-style robes. As the hours dragged on, two or three of them were always there. Sometimes he heard voices murmuring as different figures came to take their place. Usually they stood like statues. In the darkness, he could not even tell which way they were facing. He imagined each one with two faces, looking both inwards and outwards, like two-headed gods of the underworld.

  Now he had nothing left. Not even sanity. He was almost too weak to stand, let alone to attempt escape. He could sense vampires everywhere, like dozens of spectres thirsting for him. He was aware of the immensity of the desert beyond the fortress.

  Fadiya was right. Even if he escaped, where would he go? There was nothing for miles but sand and rock. He might be crazed, but hadn’t entirely lost his common sense.

  I do not want to die, he thought. Violette, I am so sorry.

  When the sun rose, a cloth-veiled figure would bring him a bowl of water to wash in, mint tea to drink, fresh dates and mushy spiced couscous. The same repast was brought again when the sun was high, and when it set. Or flat bread, goat’s cheese and figs. How did they know what to feed humans, unless they’d been human once? He would see vampire eyes shining down at him with interest, hunger, lust. He noticed their long slim fingers – graceful yet taut, as if longing to seize him… but they did not.

  Not yet.

  Nothing to do but watch the changing light on the cave walls: from a dull peach as dawn came, to a flaming golden-red glow as sunlight crept into his prison, back to beige and then darkness as the sun passed on.

  Oddly, he could smell horses: a gentle, earthy ripeness that reminded him of his family farm. A comforting smell, for all the unhappiness he’d felt there. His past misery seemed trivial now, caused only by his rebellion against his father’s expectations. But the death of his brother Alfonso meant he could never go back. Never. His father would find a way to blame him…

  Sometimes he heard the horses snort or whicker. The sounds echoed, as if they were in caves nearby.

  He scented a wet chill in the air, like an underground river beneath the caves. That would make sense, because people settled where they could drill wells. Vampires might not need water, but horses did… and so did human captives.

  Are there any humans here? Sometimes he lay awake at night listening for the cries of other prisoners in distress. Nothing.

  Violette came to him in his dreams. He saw her far away on a stage, dancing without him. Twice he woke with Fadiya leaning over him, her eyes gleaming, even tearful… She was so beautiful and so horrifying.

  “I’m sorry, my beloved Emil. So sorry.”

  She stroked his cheek – but when he woke properly, she was gone.

  I’m alone. The knowledge circled endlessly around his mind, an obsession. I am the only human creature for hundreds of miles in any direction.

  After the first two days, he forced himself to his feet one afternoon and drilled his body through his regular routine of stretching and strengthening exercises. His head whirled and he thought the effort would kill him, yet he forced himself halfway through before collapsing.

  Tomorrow he would try again. It was all he had left of who he used to be.

  * * *

  “May I go yet?” Amy asked worriedly as Charlotte approached her. Most of the theatre staff had gone, and she was sitting in the front row, turning her cloche hat around in her hands. The cine-camera stood on its tripod beside her. “Everyone was such a good sport for the camera. I’ve had a fascinating time – I’ve met so many wonderful people that I wish I’d gone into ballet instead of acting – but I don’t know what to do now. I am rather tired, and hungry. Are we still playing hostages?”

  “Yes and no.” Charlotte sat beside her. The stage lay in darkness. “We got our friend back from Bergwerkstatt, but he’s not well, and your uncle…”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s angry. He might come here looking for you, and it’s not safe for you to go back to him.”

  “I wasn’t planning to go home.” Amy’s tone darkened. She looked so alone that Charlotte longed to comfort her… but embracing humans led to dangerous temptation. “I’ll never forget that he sent me to Dr Ochsner. He doesn’t care about me, only about how I behave.”

  “Where would you go?”

  “I don’t know. A hotel, I suppose, while I decide what to do. Oh, I will so miss Mariette, Peter and the others…” She looked down at her hands. “But go back to my uncle, the murderer, and let him choose a husband for me? No.”

  “That’s his plan for you?”

  “Oh, yes. He would have to be the perfect Swiss hero, so that I can produce a new race of superior humans!” She laughed bitterly. “That’s what women are for, in Uncle Godric’s new world.”

  “Breeding stock?”

  “I think he had some idea of pairing me with Emil, but that’s a non-starter. Fadiya’s in the way, and Emil’s too… Italian. However princely he looks, he’s not of the right blood.”

  “Good lord. Amy, you really must leave.”

  “I have no choice, after all the things I’ve seen and heard…”

  “Go on,” said Charlotte. “You can tell me anything.”

  “Blackmail,” Amy whispered. “People wonder where Uncle Godric gets the money to employ his crew and live in such a grand house and make his films. Donations from his supporters aren’t enough. Sometimes he twists their arms.”

  “In what way?”

  “He’s in a dilemma. He wants strong heroic types around him, but men like that can be terribly competitive. He’s always looking over his shoulder to see if someone else is more popular than him. They might be a threat. They might even oust him and take over. So he has everyone spying on everyone else. He finds out their weakness and uses it against them. It’s dreadfully poisonous.”

  “What sort of weaknesses?” Charlotte was fascinated: she’d had the notion that Reiniger’s followers supported him without question.

  “All sorts of things. Having an affair. Stealing from work.” Amy’s voice dropped to the faintest whisper. “Being homosexual.”

  “Is that such a difficulty? I didn’t think it was regarded as any great crime here.”

  “Well, it’s legal in certain cantons, so I’m told. In the rest of the country, if there’s enough evidence, you can get several years in jail. No one wants that sort of thing made public: the disapproval from all quarters would be unbearable. And my uncle takes a very strong stand. His ideology decrees that it’s wrong, wrong, wrong. I’ve heard him boast that if ever he got into political office, he’d put all homosexuals into prison camps, along with his opponents, foreigners and other undesirables. He wants Switzerland to be just so and perfect.”

  “You mean some of his followers aren’t as perfect as they should be? They want power, but they can’t all live up to his standards?”

  Amy nodded. Her expression was unhappy but quietly, immovably defiant.

  “That’s how it seems to work. They’re all frightened of him, Charlotte. He turns a blind eye and treats everyone as his best friend – until he wants something, then he holds vicious threats of scandal, disgrace and prison over them. You say he killed your friend. I don’t think it’s the first time he’s murdered someone.”

  Charlotte lived among vampires, but even so, Amy’s statement shocked her.

  “Who?”

  “One of his close circle, Bruno, has just… disappeared. I can’t be certain… Their shiftiness whenever his name is mentioned speaks volumes.”

  “Amy, it doesn’t matter in the slightest how fond of you he claims to be. He’s evil.”

  “The trouble is, I don’t know what he might do when I leave. If he comes after me…”

  She fell quiet, and Charlotte wondered what else to say. Where was best to take the girl? Not to her own rooms, because Stefan and Niklas were there. Violette’s apartment, then? At least
kind-hearted Geli would look after her.

  “Well, you’re safe here for now. Bear with us a while. Please come upstairs. You can spend the night here. I’ll make sure you have supper, and a bed. You look so cold and pale – I’m sorry, I should have looked after you better. Let me carry the camera.”

  “It’s all right, it doesn’t weigh too much. I’ll take it to the darkroom – I’m eager to process the film, actually.”

  “Can’t that wait until tomorrow? It’ll be something to keep you busy.”

  “You’re right. I am rather tired.”

  Charlotte put her fingers on the back of Amy’s hand. She flinched, very slightly. “Amy, one thing. This must all seem very strange, and I don’t know how to explain, but… You saw the woman upstairs, who looked like me?”

  Amy nodded, wordless.

  “I know this sounds preposterous, but she’s a kind of… phantom. She’s been bothering us quite a lot. We wondered, if she appears again, if you might try to film her?”

  The young woman went so pale that Charlotte thought she would pass out.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Think of it as a scientific experiment.”

  “No, I’m not frightened,” Amy said at last. “Well, only a bit. It’s just that… I think I have filmed her already.”

  “When?”

  “No more than half an hour ago. I had the viewfinder trained on the stage. I was about to stop, because people were leaving and the stage was empty. Then you walked on from the wings – at least I thought she was you. No one else seemed to notice. You – she came right to the front of the stage. I waved and called out, but she took no notice.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Charlotte whispered.

  “She looked just like you, a shade paler perhaps, but it was the way she moved – very slow, gliding more than walking – that was so eerie. I kept filming until the film ran out. It was only a few seconds.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “I don’t know.” Amy pointed vaguely to the left. “She seemed to slide down into the orchestra pit and then fade away. She was gone before she reached the wall.”

  “And you stayed here? You’re a brave soul, aren’t you?”

  “Not really. There didn’t seem anything to run away from. It was just so odd.”

  “Odd things do happen here,” Charlotte said gently. “I can’t explain properly, but if you will carry on being brave and helping us, we’ll protect you.”

  Amy gave a wan smile. “It seems that everywhere I go is haunted and full of peculiar things happening. It’s no worse here than at Bergwerkstatt. I’m almost used to it.”

  Charlotte enclosed her hand between both her own.

  “What do you mean, no worse?”

  “Charlotte… I’ve seen the ghost who looks like you in my uncle’s house, as well.”

  * * *

  Geli appeared startled when Charlotte asked her to look after Amy, but she didn’t question her story that Amy was a friend of Madame Lenoir, to be treated as her honoured guest.

  “No, I haven’t seen Madame all day,” Geli replied to Charlotte’s question.

  Having settled her in, Charlotte made her way back to her own suite, eager to tell Karl and Stefan what had happened.

  Halfway along the passage, she walked into Violette.

  The dancer looked wild: no coat, her silver-grey dress dusty, her hair an untamed straggle. Her face was bone-white, her eyes wide and glistening – she hadn’t looked like this since her early days as a vampire, when she had turned into Lilith and run wild.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Violette demanded. Her fangs were extended, gleaming in the half light.

  “Me?” Charlotte held her at arm’s length. “You’re the one who’s been gone for hours on end. What’s happened to you?”

  “For heaven’s sake, drop your hand. I’m not going to attack you. I’ve been trying to find Emil.”

  “No luck, I take it.”

  “It’s worse than you think.” Violette pushed a letter at Charlotte. “Read this. I was frantic because he’d run away with a vampire. Now they’ve sent me a ransom note!”

  “Who?”

  Charlotte read the typed letter, deciphered the scrawl at the end, noted the day and time they demanded Violette meet her contact. Tomorrow, late afternoon.

  “Algiers?” said Charlotte, her voice weak with disbelief. “Is this a joke?”

  “I’ve already been there.” Violette mimed flight with her hand. “Through the Crystal Ring, obviously. I searched all day, but the place is a tangle and there was no hint of his presence. Hopeless. Now all I can do is meet this go-between, Nabil – whoever he is – and put myself at his mercy.”

  “This is preposterous,” said Charlotte. “I’m sorry, that was an appalling understatement, but I don’t know what to say. Who would do this?”

  Violette was motionless, like an image of herself frozen on the air. “I don’t know, but I believe it’s connected to the skull-creature who’s been watching me for weeks. Fadiya must be working for him, her, or it – I don’t know what this means, but they knew the perfect way to lure me to them: take Emil! Apparently they want me in exchange for him. ‘Furious’ doesn’t begin to describe what I feel.”

  “But you’re going anyway?”

  “I must.”

  “You’d walk into a trap set by strangers? For Emil?”

  “Darling, I’d do the same for any of my dancers. I’d do it for the boy who washes the pots.”

  “Of course,” Charlotte said softly. Violette had once run into a burning building to save her dancers.

  “No one harms my company. That is my weak spot, I know, but that’s the way of things. Will you come with me?”

  “You don’t think I’d let you go alone?”

  As soon as she’d uttered the words, Charlotte remembered all the complications. Stefan. Reiniger. Amy.

  “What?” said Violette, eyes narrowing. “You’re hesitating. I need you to bring Emil safely home, because I may not be able to.”

  “I’m afraid to leave Stefan, and…”

  “Surely Karl can look after him?”

  “It’s not that simple. Godric Reiniger might be connected with this, and there’s a chance he’s become a monster of some kind – not a vampire, but worse – and his niece is in your apartment…”

  “I do not have time for this! Charlotte, if you won’t come with me, that’s your decision. I’ll go alone. I’d love to know every detail, as much as I’d love to know why you were in my room staring over my shoulder, moments before this letter arrived, but it will have to wait.”

  “I wasn’t in your room,” Charlotte answered. Not again, she thought in dismay. Violette’s seeing my lamia, too?

  “Then I was imagining things. Never mind. I am going to feed upon some poor soul and then, once my strength is renewed, I’m going to this rendezvous with ‘Nabil’. Wish me luck.”

  Her voice was very calm and low.

  “No need,” said Charlotte. “I’ll be with you. As I said, I can’t let you go alone.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A TIMELESS SEARCH

  The heat and the blinding force of the sun overwhelmed Charlotte. She blinked at dazzling white buildings rising from the port. Algiers was brighter and livelier than anything she’d imagined. Thrilling, in all its exotic commotion.

  Vampires could tolerate daylight, but for the first time she feared she might actually go up in flames.

  So busy, thronging with Berbers and Arabs and tourists and workers… In their salt-white pomposity, the great buildings were overwhelming, too much for their setting and almost ugly. She wanted to see the real Algeria, the ancient city hidden behind the new.

  “Come on,” said Violette, “We have nearly two hours. We’ll go to market and buy some local clothing – I bought a djellaba yesterday, and left it behind when I went home – but it will be easy enough to retrieve it. I made friends with a stallholder who couldn’t have been more obligi
ng. The only difficulty is escaping, because he loves to talk and talk. Just be your charming self while I make the deal. Then we’ll be ready. And when this Nabil appears to meet me, you must hang back and conceal yourself, since I’m supposed to meet him alone.”

  “I’ll follow you,” said Charlotte, trying to smile in hopes of feeling braver. “Your invisible bodyguard, dearest.”

  They made their way uphill through the bustling streets, half in the Crystal Ring to avoid curious stares. Their trip through Raqia had been the wildest Charlotte had ever known. Violette, holding her hand, had dragged her through the firmament at breath-taking speed as they arced over the Mediterranean towards the North African coast. Charlotte hadn’t yet shaken off the mix of exhilaration and horror. She had felt like a leaf carried on a hurricane.

  The souk was thick with people, both locals and tourists. Animal smells, perfumes, vegetables, spices, the stink of cured leather – a multitude of odours engulfed her and she wanted to stop in her tracks, close her eyes and take in everything, identifying each scent, savouring the heat of blood that lay beneath everything else… to select the perfect victim. A young woman caught her eye, as lovely as Fadiya, carrying a basket full of fruit and herbs. A brown-skinned boy, lithe as a gazelle. An English visitor, lobster-red from the sun, haggling in a loud slow voice as if shouting would help the trader to understand his language…

  “Charlotte,” whispered Violette, pulling her inside a clothes stall, a small forest of coloured fabrics. “Concentrate! If you’re thirsty, there will be time later.”

  “No, I’m not. But there’s so much to see…”

  The stallholder – a lanky man with leather-brown skin and lively, kind eyes – flattered them with attention, plainly thrilled to see Violette again and eager to provide perfect outfits. When he named a price, Violette casually paid him double: the opposite of his usual expectations, judging by his wide smile.

  It would have been easy to sneak some blood from his veins, but Charlotte resisted.