He saw a young woman stepping out on the terrace; russet-brown hair that burned gold in the slightest gleam of light, violet-grey eyes radiating an irresistible innocence, like a fawn. Wasn’t she the one he’d frightened half to death in Cambridge?
Damn Kristian’s rules.
Pierre drifted forward, then drew back. Karl had joined her. They talked for a while, walked away together like lovers… Oh, this I must see! Pierre paused, meaning to follow them at a safe distance, but then another of the daughters appeared. She lacked the vulnerability of her sister, but with her self-assurance and her cropped Titian hair she was just as alluring. The glowing end of her cigarette arced through the air like a firefly.
She came to the balustrade and called, “Karl? Are you there?”
Smiling to himself, Pierre answered, “Here I am.” He walked to the edge of the plane tree’s shadow, so that she could see his form but not his face. She was uncertain, but she trotted down the terrace steps and came to him quickly enough. Oh dear, hoping for romance. Shall I tell her Karl’s with her sister? I am not so cruel.
And as she reached him, Pierre stepped out of the shadow and let the moonlight fall across his face. The girl stopped, the red cigarette end hovering in mid-air.
“Who the hell are you?” Her eyes widened, glazed.
“Be a little more friendly, chérie,” said Pierre. He grinned, letting the white fangs slide out over his lower teeth. She looked more puzzled than afraid; only when he seized her by the shoulders did her mouth drop open with mute shock. He knew how he must look to her; the white, staring face of death. She twisted and her feet skidded from under her, but he held her firm.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, lips brushing her ear. “It’s only a dream.”
How delicately pearl-pink, the contours of her throat. Untouched. Doubtful that any man had even kissed this soft skin, let alone closed his teeth on it… like this. Nor stabbed bone-sharp fangs through the virgin surface into the swollen red vessels beneath, felt the rich fluid fountaining into his mouth. Like this. Ah, this… She moaned faintly as she started to swoon, and it sounded like a moan of pleasure.
This seemed a violation of far more than her flesh, and the feeling sharpened his rapture to an almost unbearable height. Too sweet, to feel her energy burning into him, while she went limp and heavy in his grasp.
At last he let her down on to the ground and curved her neatly over the roots of the plane tree, a drained and broken flower. He did not want them to find her too quickly.
He paused for a moment, regarding his handiwork with dreamy satisfaction. Then he turned away and went in search of Karl with the taste of her lingering deliciously in his mouth. Smoke, perfume and blood.
With luck, Karl would be too taken up with his victim to realise another vampire was stalking him. Ah, there they were, walking beneath the silver birches and laburnums… Pierre kept a careful distance, but with preternatural senses he could hear them and see them through the cloud of leaves, miniaturised and very clear, painted by a brush with a single hair.
Pierre sighed with longing. Oh, she is a beauty, Karl. How have you waited this long? Such a charming tableau, the vampire and his victim; he lean and predatory, a panther in human form. A gentleman poet, he must be, with those brooding eyes, the shining dark auburn hair shadowing his forehead. Can’t they ever see it? We’re too perfect, all our mortal dross seared away. No human male could ever be that beautiful, or possess an allure so powerful that it’s almost feminine. It should be a warning, like the bright colours of an animal that say, “Don’t come near me, I’m poison!” But no, they never see it. They fall every time.
And she, with her wide eyes, peeping out of that shimmering halo of hair—so vulnerable, so hopelessly trusting.
Yet what is he doing? Talking to her?
“What did you mean about hurting Maddy?” the girl was saying. “You know she’s in love with you.”
Karl said, “She thinks she is.”
“And what—what do you feel for her?” How anxious the poor child looks. Such divine pain.
“If you could trust your own judgement, Charlotte, you would know the answer. I am fond of her, as I am fond of your father; no more than that. But she can’t see it, and I fear she will take it badly when she does. This sounds like vanity but it is not. Sometimes people see something in me that they think they can love. I wish to God it were not so!”
She looked uncomprehending.
Pierre thought, If only you realised how out of your depth you are!
“Why?”
He turned to her, clasped her hands. “Because it is for the wrong reasons. The worst of reasons. And is it any different for you, Charlotte? I can’t tell. How do I look to you? Fascinating, not quite human, perhaps? Can you explain why you feel drawn to me?”
Pierre stopped dead, one hand resting against the rough spongy bark of a sequoia. My God, he’s going to tell her the truth! In a moment of astonishment and disbelief he stood there weakly, his mouth agape. Karl, you sentimental fool, please don’t tell me you imagine you’re in love with her!
“I don’t understand,” she said.
You don’t want to, thought Pierre. But Karl only said, “I’m sorry.” He held his hand to her cheek. “You are the last person I wish to hurt. If only I felt as little for you as I do for Madeleine, I would not have let this happen. I thought I was strong enough to treat you only as a friend; I was wrong.”
Charlotte looked completely astonished. Poor child, is this the first time she’s imagined herself in love? No wonder she looks so confused. A. complete innocent…
She said, “You speak as if you care for me.”
“Oh, Charlotte, is it so unbelievable? You should not put so little value on yourself. If you could see yourself with my eyes… I can’t say I’m sorry that I kissed you, but it was wrong of me, all the same.”
“Then why did you?”
“‘Der Doppelgänger’… It reminded me of how very short life is. Those you love are there and then they are gone. Such images still have power over me.” He spoke with an irony that only Pierre perceived. “Sometimes it takes very little.” And he kissed her again, holding her as if she were made of porcelain.
He must be pretending very hard that she is, Pierre thought in amazement. How can he ignore the soft warm rush of blood under the rose petal skin? It’s unhuman… He laughed silently. Unvampiric.
“Don’t be sorry,” said Charlotte. “I’m not.”
“What use are words, anyway?” Karl said gently. “They don’t matter. Just to be with you… “
Oh, Karl, you are too easy to love. No wonder Kristian hates you so. But you know your nature will win and that’s why you look so sad when she opens up to you like a rose. Touching. If I were still human I should feel quite sick. Only don’t be such a hypocrite as to pretend, when you finally lose control, that you won’t enjoy it!
Grinning to himself, Pierre twisted away from the mortal world and speared through the Crystal Ring. By the time they made a certain discovery, Pierre would not be around for Karl to blame him.
No need to look for me, my friend, he thought, pleased with the evening’s work. I shall come to you soon enough!
***
For Charlotte the garden had become a compete and enchanted realm of its own, a curve that had no end; silvery and tree-dappled, lined with gold and stretching forever under the sky. One moment she had been wrapped in numb isolation; no love, a future with Henry, Karl only a friend. The next moment, a revelation. Karl is with me. Not with my sister nor my aunt, not with anyone else. With me! Such a relief to shed the coldness, to realise, this is what I’ve been missing. I was dying for lack of love… They walked along the wild paths, past stone cherubs on overgrown fountains, as if through another world in which only they existed. Arms round each other, hands entwined. Both carefully holding back, denying the temptation to do more. This was enough; it was everything.
Neither wanted it to end. Eventually it was
Karl who said reluctantly, “We should go back.”
She felt light-headed as they returned through the luminescent shadows of the lower gardens, up the one hundred steps towards the top lawn. She didn’t care what Karl’s strange words had meant, nor what happened next; there was only now.
Until Karl stopped and said, “There’s someone… Charlotte, look.”
He was pointing at the plane tree on the left border of the lawn. She could see nothing in the shadows and she was puzzled. But as they went closer she made out a pale shape curved on the ground, a slender female figure. The ground around her glittered as if with tiny stars…
Charlotte realised they were glass beads, broken and spilled from the dress. Reality thundered down like a waterfall, shattering the mood, drenching her with its cruel dissonance.
“Oh my God, Madeleine!” she cried. “Oh God, what’s happened?” She bent down over her sister, touching her shoulder.
“Maddy? The skin felt icy; there was no response. Gently rolling her over, Charlotte cradled Madeleine’s head but her eyes were closed and her face pale and slack. “Oh, Karl… “
Karl knelt down and touched his fingers to Madeleine’s throat. Charlotte thought she saw a pair of faint bluish crescents, but it might have been the fall of shadow. Then he stood up, very still and thoughtful, and stared into the darkness.
Charlotte was rigid with disbelief and terror that Maddy could be dead. Then she felt a faint, warm breath on her cheek and she almost wept with relief. “She’s breathing. Help me take her inside, quickly.”
Karl bent down and gathered Maddy in his arms. She groaned as he lifted her, her head resting limply in the crook of his shoulder.
“She must have fainted,” Charlotte said, shaking with anxiety. “Perhaps she hit her head. She might have been lying here all the time… I don’t understand it, she had hardly anything to drink because she was playing the piano all evening.”
Karl did not reply. They went up the flight of steps on to the terrace and through the french window into dazzling light and warmth. Within seconds there were people crowding round in concern, Newland and Aunt Elizabeth taking Madeleine from Karl’s arms.
As they carried her away, Karl said quietly to Charlotte, “Call a doctor. Shut the doors after me and don’t come outside again.” She was alarmed. “You don’t think there’s an intruder in the grounds?”
“I’m sure there’s no need to worry.” He clasped her arm gently and went back on to the terrace before she could stop him. She locked the french window as he had asked, then ran along the corridor to find the others.
Madeleine lay on the chaise-longue in the Blue room, her face white as paste against the striped satin. Anne shepherded the guests into another room, while David and Father watched anxiously over Madeleine.
“I’ve telephoned the doctor in the village,” said Elizabeth, following Charlotte into the room. “Such a shame Anne’s father isn’t here. A fine doctor you are, George. What use is a PhD in philosophy at a time like this?”
Neville made a harrumphing sound. “And a fine aunt you are, feeding lethal cocktails to children.”
“She’s a grown woman, and she only had a glass of wine,” Elizabeth retorted. “How is she?”
“I think she’s coming round,” said Charlotte.
Madeleine heaved in a huge breath of air. She blinked and made an effort to lift her head, which lolled as if weighted with lead. “Come on, Maddy, there’s a good girl,” said Elizabeth, massaging her hands. “What happened to her, Charlotte?”
“I don’t know. Karl and I found her lying on the top lawn.”
“What d’you mean, found her?” said her father, looking at his pocket watch. “It’s at least an hour since the three of you disappeared. Weren’t you all together?”
Before Charlotte could answer, Maddy spoke. “Someone in the garden.” Her words were slurred. She rubbed at her neck. “It hurts.”
“What does, darling?” said Elizabeth. She lifted Madeleine’s hand away but there was nothing on her neck except two tiny blemishes like the imprints of fingernails.
“He bit me,” said Madeleine.
Elizabeth looked at David. “She’s confused. Maddy, try to think; did you faint or did someone hurt you?”
Madeleine’s chest rose and fell convulsively, under the glitter of beige and pink beads. “Karl,” she said, more as if calling his name than answering the question. Charlotte’s anxiety knotted into foreboding.
“You’re not saying Karl attacked you?” David asked gendy.
Maddy frowned. “I don’t know.”
“He most certainly did not!” said Charlotte. “I was with him all the time!”
Suddenly they were all looking at her, and she shrank under their attention. Her father wore the puzzled scowl she dreaded, which he directed at her when she had displeased him. “How dare you be less than perfect!” the look seemed to say.
Elizabeth said, “So, you’ve been in the garden with Karl all this time?”
“Yes.” Charlotte almost lost her voice.
“But not with Madeleine. So she might have been lying there for a whole hour, for all we know.”
Charlotte was too distressed to speak. The thought of Maddy lying unconscious and neglected was bad enough, but now feelings of guilt swamped her. If she hadn’t been with Karl, it might not have happened. Oh Lord, it’s my fault… But Elizabeth turned her attention back to Madeleine. “Do try to remember what happened, dear. If someone did hurt you, it’s very serious. Or did you only faint?”
“I can’t remember, Auntie, really. I went outside to find Karl… to call him for supper, I mean… then I was lying on the ground and it was cold. There were eyes.” Madeleine pressed a hand to her forehead. “I feel so dizzy… Pins and needles.”
“This is only upsetting her,” said David.
Elizabeth brushed strands of hair from her niece’s forehead. “Don’t think about it now, dear. Try to rest.”
When the doctor arrived, his diagnosis was anaemia and low blood pressure. He prescribed rest and plenty of liquids, refusing to commit himself to a cause but hinting vaguely at “women’s troubles.”
As soon as he had gone, they took Madeleine to her room and Charlotte sat with her while Elizabeth went out to talk to David and their father. She dreaded to think what was being said. Madeleine clung to Charlotte’s wrist with white, frail hands. It was dreadful to see her so distraught, so unlike herself.
“Charli, where’s Karl?” she said. “I want to see him. This isn’t fair.”
“What’s not fair?” Charlotte said gently.
“You all want to take him away from me, but I’m the one who loves him—” and to Charlotte’s dismay, Madeleine began to weep inconsolably. “Karl… ” All Charlotte could do was to hold her, stroking her hair, murmuring words of comfort, while inside she was aghast at her own hypocrisy. How could I have done this? How could I let him kiss me and speak those tender words? How can I sit here comforting Maddy while I’m the one who’s breaking her heart?
That miraculous time with Karl must have its price… and she was beginning to pay it already.
Madeleine had cried herself to sleep by the time Elizabeth came back. She said, “I’ll sit with her now, dear. But just a word before you go to bed… “
Her aunt gripped her arm and propelled her out into the corridor, pulling the door to behind them. She whispered, “I don’t know what’s got into you, dear, but you will find yourself in serious trouble if you continue with this behaviour.”
“What behaviour?” Charlotte gasped.
“Disappearing with a man in complete darkness for an hour! I can’t imagine what you were thinking of. It’s not that I care, but what is your father to make of it? I should think he’s furious and so will your fiancé be—and you know how rumours spread, so don’t imagine Henry won’t hear about it! You’ve never had a clue how to behave, you just go from one extreme to another. I despair of you.”
“It was only a
walk!” She blushed.
“Knowing you as I do, I would normally have believed it. But you’ve always been hopeless at lying, Charlotte. You shouldn’t even attempt it. Just go to bed, before you cause any more trouble.”
Before Charlotte could defend herself, her aunt was gone and she was staring at a closed door. Devastated, she ran to her own bedroom. How could Elizabeth care about her being with Karl, when Madeleine was ill? Surely it could not be jealousy that had made her aunt so angry…
Yet it was obvious, and unfair. Elizabeth regarded Madeleine as an honourable combatant for Karl’s affections. Charlotte was not even meant to be in the arena; she had dared to break the bonds of her role, and that was forbidden. She could not forget the way they had looked at her; her father’s puzzled anger, David’s sombre disapproval, Madeleine’s tears… and she felt that she had committed some nameless crime.
Yet, in a way, they were right. She was engaged to Henry, her walk with Karl had not been innocent. Elizabeth’s philosophy was that the crime lay in being found out.
Where’s Karl? Has anyone gone out to look for him? She wanted to go downstairs and find out, but she could not even face Anne, let alone anyone else. She lay on the bed in her evening dress, sick with worry.
Already the walk was taking on the aspect of a myth, too vivid to be real, every detail etched into her soul with diamond and fire. And it had taken her over so stealthily that only now did the Shockwaves strike her. It can’t have happened, not to me. Did Karl say he loved me, did he actually say it? No, but words don’t matter. I know. We both know.
She had stepped into heaven for a while… but it had ended so harshly. Suddenly there was a veil of darkness over everything and Karl was gone.
The clock chimed two. It was no good, she could not rest until she knew what had happened to Karl. Soundlessly she let herself through the door and tiptoed along the corridor to his room.
There was no answer to her soft knock. Pulse thudding, she turned the handle, feeling by instinct that the room was empty. So her heart almost failed when she saw Karl sitting by the window, in shirt-sleeves, his profile pearly against the indigo sweep of the sky. He was so pale, so utterly still, that for a second she had the horrible impression that he was not alive.
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