“Why don’t you bathe, and I will find you something to wear?” said Ilona. “So primitive, this place. I can’t stand it. I must have luxury.”
“You don’t live here all the time, then?” Charlotte asked.
“God, no! I have houses in Paris, Budapest, Prague… I have rich human lovers. I don’t kill them until they begin to bore me. You know, we should both leave here while we have the chance.”
“Where will you go?”
“I haven’t decided.” Ilona searched briskly through a rail of dresses. “But one thing is certain, I have had more than enough of my immortal fathers.”
“You don’t want to find Karl and Kristian, then?”
“They can both go to hell! Come with me, if you like; I might go to Russia, or America for a change.”
Charlotte smiled. “Don’t you think the Russians have enough problems, without you? Thank you, but I have to go back to Cambridge.”
Ilona gave her a look of exasperation. “Oh, not your precious family again. Then I suppose you are going to start looking for Karl, just to reassure yourself that he really did mean to kick you in the teeth.”
A dull-edged knife of loss cut through her. “I don’t know,” Charlotte said. “I can’t believe he really meant to reject me… but you’re right, I can’t forget how cold he was. If I found him and he was still the same, I couldn’t bear it. I don’t know what to do.”
“Forget him!” Ilona pulled an armful of clothes from a cupboard and threw them on a chair. “Do you like these?” She shook out a dress of silvery crepe de Chine and a midnight-blue coat trimmed lavishly with fur. “You know, you will not be able to go into the Crystal Ring for days. Not until you have fed enough to recover your strength.”
“I don’t think it will take me days,” said Charlotte. “I can sense the Ring now… I think I could enter it, if I were just a little stronger.”
Ilona raised her eyebrows. “Already? To recover so fast is quite unusual. I wonder if Kristian has some reason to be afraid of you.”
“Why should he be?”
Ilona smiled thinly and shrugged. “I have never heard him shout at anyone the way he shouted at you, when you told him there is no God. I should think the whole castle heard him.”
When Charlotte had bathed and dressed, she left the castle and hunted on the hillsides above the Rhine. It grew a little easier each time, as if the intensity of her need carried her beyond conscience. She felt no horror, only a distant tenderness for her victims. They were only a means to an end; to go back to her family, so she could say goodbye.
Beyond that, she could see no future. I came into this for Karl. Without him what’s the use? But the stolen life in her veins numbed her against the cruel wires of sorrow.
When Charlotte felt ready to travel, she did not return to the castle again, not even to see Ilona. There seemed no point. She stepped into the Crystal Ring and, terrifying though it was on her own, she found her way home along the paths that Kristian had taken.
In Cambridge, every familiar sight was a shock. It was as if she had been blind before, only knowing places by touch and sound; the sight of them was vivid, new. Delaying the confrontation, she wandered through the colleges for a time, unable to believe the soft granulation of their walls, their dignity and antiquity. She noticed some undergraduates from the Cavendish staring at her as they passed her on King’s Parade, unsure if they recognised her or not. “That’s not Charlotte Neville, is it?” whispered one. “Never struck me she was such a beauty before.” But it was not beauty they were seeing but the vampire aura, burning through their perceptions.
At last she stood outside her father’s house. No sound except the soft rustic of trees against a broken sky, distant birdsong.
The cream-grey walls seemed closed against her, but she sensed motes of human warmth within. How long is it since I left?
No one had seen her yet. She entered the Crystal Ring briefly, passed through the walls and went up into the bedroom that had been hers.
A shock. It was like looking at a doll’s house. She was entranced by the detail, yet—just as she could never step into the dolls’ world and live there—she felt disconnected from it. There was no sense of her mother’s spirit in the room any more. No sense of her self.
She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a mirror. Another shock. She looked just the same. There was nothing supernatural about her; she looked normal, if rather pale, her face almost lost between the swathe of black fur and the deep-crowned hat.
Charlotte felt light-headed with the passive, insidious horror of it. I can never live here again… even if I wanted to. She left the room and went downstairs in a trance, stopping abruptly at the bottom as Madeleine came out into the hall.
Madeleine looked up and stared at her in open-mouthed astonishment.
“Charli!” she cried, rushing forward and flinging her arms round Charlotte’s neck. “You’ve come back! Oh, thank God!”
Charlotte was stunned. Her sister felt so soft, so pliant; it was not long since she had fed, but the memory only made the pulse of Madeleine’s blood more poignantly enticing. She held her, staring at the creamy curve of her neck with its down of tiny pale hairs, conscious of the sweetness beneath the peach skin.
She held Madeleine away from her, shaken to the core. “I thought you were in London,” she managed to say.
“No, Father sent for me and I’ve heard this awful story about you and Karl. Is it over, then? Are you all right? Come in, we’re just having a cup of tea. Didn’t Sally take your coat?”
“I let myself in,” said Charlotte, hanging up her coat and hat. “Wait; who’s in the drawing room?”
“Only Father and Anne. David and Auntie have gone back to Parkland.”
That made it a little easier; but it was her father Charlotte most dreaded facing. “How is Father?”
Maddy shrugged. “Not awfully well, poor thing. But he’ll buck up when he sees you!” Charlotte wanted a moment to steady herself, but Maddy was already opening the drawing room door, exclaiming, “Look who’s here!”
Their father and Anne were sitting side by side on the sofa, drinking tea. Seeing Charlotte in the doorway they sat up and stared blankly at her; no relief on their faces, just frozen astonishment. The atmosphere was instantly fretted with tension. Finally Anne jumped up and said, “Oh, Charli, what a shock!” But her father, stony-faced, did not utter a word.
“Now come on, tell us what happened!” said Maddy.
Charlotte could not speak.
“Don’t be impatient,” said Anne. “Just let her sit down and have a cup of tea. You needn’t say anything until you’re ready, Charli.”
“All went wrong, did it?” Dr Neville said gruffly, not seeming to expect an answer. The aura of unease that emanated from him was so powerful that it subdued even Maddy.
I’m still in disgrace, of course. They don’t know what to say, either. Even Anne seemed reserved, if not hostile. Yet Charlotte felt such tenderness for them that their coldness was unbearable.
This is a terrible mistake. Why did I come back? I can’t tell them what’s happened. I can’t tell them a thing!
As they sat without speaking, Charlotte found herself mesmerised by the pinkness of Maddy’s mouth, the way Anne’s hair curved behind her ear, the angles of their hips and knees… seeing them as a painter would, only she did not want to paint Anne and Maddy, she wanted to stroke their skin and bite through it and suck the life out of their hearts. God, is this how Karl used to look at us?
She pretended to be drinking her tea, but it turned cold and congealed in the cup. The idea of tasting it was more repellent than the idea of drinking blood had been before her initiation. Even to let it touch her lips sickened her. Yet they hadn’t noticed. It was unbelievable. But then she remembered that no one—except Edward—had noticed that Karl was a vampire, either.
So now I have lost both Karl and my family too. How could I stay here, pretending to be human; not eating, not slee
ping, vanishing without explanation? And the desire she felt for them… Oh, God, tenderness, not impersonal hunger. That’s the danger, that my love for them would lead me into it… yet I do love them. I wanted to make them understand.
She put her cup down and forced herself to speak. “I can’t stay. I came back to say goodbye… and that I’m sorry.”
No one said anything. Her father glared at her, withering coldness in his gaze. Her feelings were in turmoil, yet she felt somehow distanced from her emotions, just as Karl had suggested she would be. It enabled her to speak calmly, at least. But as she tried to go on, she felt a familiar snow-crystal splitting of the air. Ilona appeared in the centre of the room. Madeleine gave a sharp scream and leapt up, sending her cup and saucer spinning across the carpet. Charlotte was hardly less astonished than the others. Everything about Ilona was designed to shock; a backless gown of scarlet beaded lace, kohl around her eyes, her lips and nails painted blood-red. She was a deliberate, exquisitely delicate caricature of a vamp. Charlotte stood up, horrified, because whatever she felt for Ilona she did not trust her. Images of Ilona at Fleur’s party…
“Excuse me for intruding,” said Ilona, smiling venomously. “I wanted a word with Charlotte.”
“What are you doing here?” Charlotte said faintly.
“You disappeared without saying auf wiedersehen, darling. Your friends want to talk to you.” Before Charlotte could ask what she meant, Ilona began to walk around the room, looking at the others in turn. Then in mock surprise she said, “My dear, you haven’t told them, have you?” She laughed and ran her fingernails down Dr Neville’s cheek. Charlotte flinched. He didn’t move a muscle but he looked mortified. “Your poor father doesn’t realise.”
“Don’t touch them!” said Charlotte.
Madeleine and her father looked dumbfounded, but there was a grave intelligence flowering in Anne’s eyes. “Charlotte, who is this woman? Another of them, isn’t she!”
Ilona turned as if she might attack Anne. “Be quiet!” she hissed. Charlotte watched in alarm, remembering that even Karl could not stop Ilona if she became violent—but her tone softened again and she went on, “Charlotte looks well, doesn’t she? Glowing, I would say. Don’t you think there’s anything strange about her?”
They looked bewildered—except Anne. She was staring at Charlotte with a dark expression that seemed to cut right through her. The others didn’t understand, but Anne knew.
“Oh, God!” Ilona cried. “You’re all so stupid! No one is less observant than a scientist, Dr Neville, as you prove. Look at me and then look at her!”
“Ilona, please don’t,” said Charlotte.
She continued pitilessly, “Your precious Charlotte is like me. She is a vampire.”
Utter silence. They were all staring at her. Charlotte made her face a blank; she gave herself up to their stares, while inside she was falling apart. What was the point of denying it?”
Ilona sat on the arm of the sofa, swinging one leg; a bright young thing at a party. “I thought you ought to know. She obviously hasn’t told you herself. Aren’t you going to say something, darling? You’re not trying very hard to deny it.”
Charlotte felt Anne’s eyes burning into her. What could she do to placate Ilona? Charlotte went to her, put her hand on Ilona’s bare shoulder and stroked her neck; not the gesture of someone who felt intimidated. It must have looked strange to her family, yet it seemed to work. “Thank you,” Charlotte said, softly bitter. “I was trying to tell them rather less brutally.”
“Idiot,” said Ilona with a mixture of affection and contempt. “You don’t belong here. You belong with us. Stefan has some kind of message for you; he’s outside with Niklas and Pierre. Are you coming, or not?”
“Yes,” Charlotte sighed. A strange, cool sense of resignation came over her. “If you will wait outside while I finish saying goodbye.”
“If you insist. But don’t be long, or I may be forced to come back and tease you a little more.” Ilona blew her a kiss and vanished; but Charlotte could sense the cool flames of vampire presences outside the house.
She made herself face her family. They looked stricken, their eyes full of incredulous horror. Another unwelcome revelation, when she thought nothing else could touch her. They’re frightened of me!
She went to Maddy, reached out to touch her hair. “Don’t be afraid of me. It’s not as bad as it seems.”
Her sister pulled away wildly, crying, “Don’t touch me! Get away from me, Charli!” Charlotte drew back, shattered by her reaction, thinking, I could take her on her own, mesmerise her with this glamour so she wasn’t afraid and loved me again. But it wouldn’t be fair, it wouldn’t be real.
“Father,” Charlotte said quietly. “Can I speak to you alone, please?”
Not replying, he stood up and walked across the hall into the study. Charlotte followed, with the impression that he did not really want to, but could not resist her will. Do I have this power over others now?
He sat on the leather couch but she stood, keeping her distance. In this study Karl had caught her alone and she had lost her fear of him… as a prelude to losing everything else to him. Do I want to step back through the veil, be human again? That was the best time. Wanting Karl, in all innocence of what I was actually asking for. Well, now I have it, with a vengeance.
Her father looked at her for a long time before he said, “It can’t be true, this awful thing. Tell me it’s not true.”
“I’m sorry, Father. It is.”
His face changed slowly as he went on looking at her, seeming to crumple with fear, anger, denial. “You’ve changed,” he said. “What’s he done to you? How can I get you back?”
“You can’t, Father,” she said softly. “I am still the same inside. But what I have become can’t be reversed.”
His hands curled into fists. “He’s destroyed you!”
“No. I chose this. No one forced me. I wanted it.”
Colour rose into his cheeks and he was shaking his head. “Why?”
“Because I loved Karl.” She knew her words were tormenting him, that he could not bear to hear them, but she had to tell him the truth. “I always loved him, even after what happened to Edward, even when I was his prisoner. Always.”
“But he’s evil! It’s obscene. How could you do this, Charlotte? You were so blameless, innocent. He’s corrupted you. Your mother would turn in her grave.”
“Wouldn’t you have loved Mother, whatever she did? Why must you cling to this belief that I was perfect? I never was. You are seeing the real me now. This is how I’ve always been inside!” She leaned towards him but he recoiled, denying her, pushing her away. The pain made her feel cruel. “You never saw Mother as she really was, either.”
“How dare you! I adored her!”
“Yes, but you didn’t know her! She wasn’t perfect either. And I am not her, I never have been her.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“Yes, you do.” She knew she was hurting him but she could not stop. “Isn’t this what you wanted me to be? Mother again, the saint who never existed; just a frozen image of her, captured eternally. Well, now you have that. I shall never grow old! Do you want me to stay here for you to look at forever?”
Her father was weeping, his head in his hands. She was aghast at herself, wrung out with grief… but she could not reach him. How could she comfort him with these white demonic hands that later would grasp someone else, not to console them but to feed on them?
Suddenly he looked old, all his vigour gone. He had always seemed so strong; his feebleness was unbearable. I have done this. I’ve destroyed him.
“I shan’t stay,” she whispered. “I can’t, of course. Father, don’t weep. Please forgive me. I still love you.”
In a voice thick with tears he said, “Get out of my house, Charlotte. As far as I am concerned I have only two daughters left; their names are Madeleine and Anne.”
She went to the door, pause
d to look at the curved bulk of his back, the wisps of white hair straggling over the crumpled collar. Such a familiar sight… not intent on work now, but humped with bereavement. Only the coolness in the very centre of her soul enabled her to close the door and walk away. But all around it, the human flames burned.
Anne was in the hall, arms folded, glaring at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and hard. Charlotte faced her, hoping only for a word of acceptance; trying hard not to be aware of her enticing human heat. “I’m leaving, Anne.”
“Well, I suppose that’s for the best,” Anne said flatly.
“Please look after Father. I so hoped we could part on good terms but he’s so distraught, I can’t do anything—”
“Oh, of course I’ll look after him! Sweep up the mess you’ve left! What are friends for?”
“Anne, don’t.” She felt moisture gathering on her eyelashes.
“Oh, vampires cry, do they, Charlotte? Crocodile tears, I suppose.”
“Why are you so bitter? You were the one person who always tried to understand and not condemn me!”
“Yes, when I thought that your good sense could win through in the end. But to do this! To deliberately become one of these—How do you expect me to be understanding? I can’t even begin to adjust my mind to the enormity of it.”
“Do I seem so vile to you now?” Charlotte exclaimed.
“Oh, you look the same, you sound the same—and yet you don’t. Your skin is luminous, your eyes burn. Like that woman who appeared. She was the one who killed Fleur and Clive, wasn’t she? The moment I saw her I suddenly knew it was true. Yet you put your arms ‘round her! I’m frightened of you, actually. Yet you stand there still expecting me to be your friend!”
“I don’t expect anything,” Charlotte said quietly. “But I don’t want you to hate me. I couldn’t bear it. If you think I’m unfeeling, you’re wrong; emotion, pain, everything is more intense now than it ever was before.”
“Oh, do you expect sympathy? You’ve realised that Karl’s heartless charms are nothing in comparison to losing the love of your family?” Charlotte said nothing. She would not give Anne the satisfaction of knowing that Karl had abandoned her. “I warned you about him from the beginning! Anyone can make a mistake in love, Charlotte, but to go on chasing it to such an extreme—what did you expect?”
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