"I see what he is! Death! Get him out!"
David watched his friend in shock and dismay. Everyone seemed paralysed, as if Edward's frenzy had created an invisible wall they could not penetrate.
It was not the first time David had had to go to him, brave the flailing limbs and hold onto his rigid shoulders in an attempt to calm him.
"It's all right, old chap, it's all right. Come on, I'm here. Edward!"
But Edward fought him blindly, foam gathering at the corners of his mouth. The stocky, imperturbable butler, Newland, was hurrying forward to help, followed by two of David's friends. Their expressions were grim. It's taken them back to the trenches, too, David thought. This raw fear… God, will it ever let go? As they struggled to hold Edward, Dr Saunders came to them, rolling up the sleeves of his scarlet costume.
"We'd better take him into the house," said the doctor. "I'll fetch my medical bag."
David let the others take him and hung behind. It took three of them to manhandle Edward out of the tent, and he fought them all the way; white-eyed, grey-faced, with the soul-chilling cries tearing themselves out of his lungs. David was shaken to the core, but he felt obliged to say something before he went after his friend.
The screaming faded at last. Like air rushing into a vacuum, the hubbub of conversation rose swiftly to fill the silence. With Edward gone, everyone's attention focussed on Karl. Of them all, he looked the least upset. His face was almost expressionless; a touch of surprise at first, now a slight drawing down of his eyebrows, but otherwise he remained composed.
"I hardly know what to say," David said gravely. He thought, I refuse to be embarrassed or apologetic on Edward's behalf; I owe him better than that. "This is a regrettable situation, but please don't blame Edward. He's been unwell for some time. If you'll excuse me, I have to go and see how he is."
"Of course," Karl said, inclining his head. He seemed to understand, but Madeleine's eyes were glittering and there were bright spots of colour in her cheeks.
"It's an absolute disgrace," she said. "What possessed him to make such a scene, and how dare he say such dreadful things about one of my guests?"
"Madeleine," said David, "shut up."
***
Edward lay on the bed with one arm over his face, quiet now but looking shattered. Dr Saunders, with his Cardinal's robe half-dismantled and his sleeves rolled up, sat on the edge of the bed, carefully replacing his instruments into his medical bag. His broad kindly face was serious. "I've given him a sedative, David. He should be all right now, but I'd get him some expert help, if I were you."
"He's had psychiatric help," David sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "He's been so much better lately; I really thought these breakdowns were behind him."
Edward looked out from under his arm. His eyes were still disturbed, not seeing the world quite as it really was. "But he's a vampire. The man's a vampire."
"Come on, old man." David put a hand on his shoulder. "You're overwrought. Is it because of where he comes from? Look, the War's over. An Austrian's just an ordinary chap like anyone else."
"I know. It's not that. I can't make you understand. I have these feelings, I can see things I never used to be able to see. You must listen… " His voice was growing slurred.
David looked at Dr Saunders, who shook his head.
"Just try to get some sleep, there's a good chap," said David, patting Edward's shoulder. "I have to go now but I'll be here when you wake up, don't worry."
With a heavy heart, David went back to the marquee. The dance band was playing again, conversation had fallen to an even level. The natural reaction to embarrassment was to return to normal as quickly as possible, and he was glad.
Charlotte and Anne came to him, asking how Edward was. He hugged them, then made his way through the crowd and found a chair opposite Karl. The Austrian acknowledged him with a look that was quite friendly. David sat forward, aware that the others were listening, but wanting them to hear.
"Look, Herr von Wultendorf, I'm most awfully sorry," he began. "I don't know how to begin to apologise—not for Edward's behaviour, which is not his fault, but for the embarrassment it must have caused you. You must have found it terribly distressing, but I can assure you it was just as distressing for Edward. I must explain something about him, although he won't thank me for it because he hates people to know."
"I could see he was disturbed," said Karl. "There's no need to apologise, or to explain."
"But I must. You see, Edward suffers from neurasthenia. He was very badly shell-shocked during the War and it has destroyed his nerves completely. He has bouts of terrible depression, and sometimes he goes off into these fits of hysteria. He can't help it."
Karl nodded. His eyelids were lowered. "I thought it was something of that sort."
"But you see, that's why I can't abandon him. If not for him, I wouldn't be alive. People who weren't there can't imagine how deep that sort of comradeship goes. It makes me very angry when some ignorant people write him off as a hopeless case or an embarrassment. I shall always stick by him, whatever he does. I want you to appreciate that."
"David, it is quite all right." Karl looked up, his expression receptive. "It caused me no embarrassment, and the only thing that matters is Edward's health. I shall simply forget about it, as I hope will everyone else."
David let out a breath of relief. "Thank you for being so understanding. I know he'll feel bad about it when he recovers, but it will help him to know you've been so decent about the whole thing."
Elizabeth leaned across to Karl and rested her hand along his sleeve, unashamedly flirtatious. "If only our governments could sort things out in such a civilised manner. I do hope this won't prevent you feeling perfectly at ease and welcome among us. We are all quite harmless, really!"
They're lucky to be able to laugh it off so easily, David thought bitterly. Once the party had been salvaged and Madeleine was happy again, David's only wish was to go back to the house and check on Edward.
On his way along the main corridor, he glanced through the doors of the main drawing room and was surprised to see Charlotte there in the darkness, half-silhouetted against the window. In the Egyptian costume she seemed a ghost who had stepped out of another time. A faint silver-cream glow from outside dappled the room, painted her bare arms with light. "Hello," he said. "Had enough of the party?" She turned round like a startled thief. "Oh, David, you made me jump. It's so hot and noisy in there. And after—after what happened, it all seemed a bit much."
He went over to her and they stood side by side, looking out at the garden. "I'm afraid I've rather lost the taste for enjoying myself, as well."
"How is Edward?"
"Resting," David said with a slight shake of his head. "But I'm worried about him. When he's had these bouts before, they were usually triggered by a loud noise, something reminding him of gunfire, and I could calm him down quite easily. I've never known him react to another chap like that. Whatever was it about Karl? There is a strange thing I've noticed; sometimes, when Edward meets a person, he seems to know all about them without being told anything. Well, all that supernatural business is a load of bunkum, of course, but there is definitely something going on in Edward's head that I don't understand."
"Perhaps he's just very perceptive," said Charlotte. "Karl—Karl seemed to take it very well."
"Yes, thank God, he was very understanding. Others might not have been."
She looked sideways at him. "What do you think of him?"
"Oh, I hardly know. Usually I can weigh a fellow up straight away, but with von Wultendorf it's not so easy. He doesn't give much away. Seems decent enough, I'd say, but… "
"You don't like him?" She sounded anxious.
"I've no feelings either way, but Father has obviously taken to him. The way Maddy, Aunt Lizzie and their cronies were fawning over him, as if he were the Prince of Wales or someone—taking hospitality a bit too far, but not his fault, I suppose."
Char
lotte laughed. He took her hand and tucked it through his arm. "Thank goodness there's one female in this family who isn't mooning over him. You've got more sense, haven't you, sis?"
"There must be more to a man than a handsome face."
"Well, that must be so, if what I hear about you and Henry is true."
"Oh, that." She winced.
"For a newly-engaged woman, you don't exactly seem overjoyed. Are you sure you're doing the right thing?"
David loved Charlotte, but he didn't understand her. She was like a shy forest creature, seen from a distance between the trunks of great trees; hunted, doe-like, following some secret path of her own. Even as he stood with her there was a feeling that she was not really there; that her real self was slipping away through the green caves of the forest, elusive, hidden. For David, she always put on a brave face; he could never touch what was inside.
"It's only that I don't want any fuss made about it," she said with a forced smile. "It's not official yet. But it's for the best, David, honestly. If I don't marry Henry, I shan't marry anyone. We'll be comfortable together, and even Father's happy about it."
I don't altogether believe you, sis, he thought, but it'll do no good to press you, I know. "Well, if you're sure. I had hoped you and Edward… but no, how could I expect you to take on a fellow with his problems? It's a shame, though. You would have been good for each other."
She rested her head against his arm, and said nothing.
***
Kristian found Pierre in Vienna, ironically enough. The city that Karl so loved; could Karl be here somewhere, after all?
Pierre was always easy to find. He was a creature of habit and Kristian knew his haunts, the elegant European cities in which he felt at home. And he was under instruction never to stray too far from the places where he could be found, in case Kristian needed him.
There was a halo around the moon. Its light penetrated the Crystal Ring, falling blue and glassy on the otherworld through which Kristian moved. Vienna still existed in the Ring, the mind of God; but it was only semi-tangible, distorted by strange perspectives. The buildings seemed crowded together, tall and dark, skewing away at impossible angles. Their walls were built of air. Kristian passed through them as if through shadow, moving in and out of houses, the occupants never suspecting his presence. Occasionally one might shiver as he passed, but none guessed that God's dark wing had brushed them.
And as he was unseen to mortals, so they were invisible to him—except for their auras. They were human-shaped gaps delineated by needles of blue, red and gold fire. They moved as swiftly as moths and their voices were fast and thin, like harpsichords heard through closed doors. The Ring pulled flat the rooms through which he moved, turning them into grey, static spaces in which perspectives broke down and the fiery outlines of men fluttered and buzzed.
Once or twice Kristian paused to drink a human aura. Although he hated to touch humans and never fed on their blood, he still needed their energy. From the Ring he could suck out the purest life-force of all without ever having to touch their hot gritty flesh. Needles of light slid in through his pores and he breathed the warmth, bathed in it; pure energy, filling him with the boundless grace of God.
However young and strong the victim had been, they would fade fast, falling prey to the first infection they caught. Their companions would watch them sink and die of some trivial illness, protesting, "But he was always so healthy, so strong!" never suspecting the true cause.
But none of this concerned Kristian. He felt only a sense of satisfaction that he had dispatched one more sinful creature to face God's justice. The flame went out, the wick still smouldered in the darkness, but he had moved on.
Drifting through the blue-black twilight of Schonbrunn Park, he sensed another vampire. No aura of heat, but a coolness that felt like a diamond pressing into his forehead; cold, sharp, faintly radiant. Soundlessly, Kristian stepped out of the Crystal Ring.
There was a momentary disorientation as the real world unfolded around him, like a fan flicked open, a vast painted canvas springing into three dimensions. The change was intangible yet profound, as if the Earth had been recreated at that second just for him. Every grass blade glistened with newness. The moonlight slanted pure and delicate across the park, filling it with subtle colours that only his immortal eyes could see. In this soft and shining landscape Kristian walked through tree-shadows towards the presence.
In the lee of a hedge wall, he paused. A few yards from him, by a clipped archway, he saw that the vampire was with a potential victim. They were talking, the vampire pretending to ask directions, leaning over the man and edging him backwards into the arch. He loomed over the man like the white horn of the moon, making no attempt to hide his nature; his manner twisting his innocuous words into a horrible mockery.
Kristian recognised Pierre's tall figure, swathed in an expensive dark coat. His prey was short and solidly-built, middle-aged, slightly drunk. Kristian observed the man's attitude shifting from nonchalance to unease. Abruptly sober, he made an excuse and tried to break away—then Pierre's arms shot out like two black cobras, seized him and pressed him against the hedge.
The vampire's face was hard and gleaming as ice, his eyes ghostly blue, his hands like bleached, gnarled wood. In an instant of dazzling horror, the man realised what was about to happen. His mouth fell open but no cry came out; he wriggled as uselessly as an impaled maggot, while Pierre merely looked at him with amused condescension. He lifted his lips, let the man see the shining ivory thorns of his canines. In no hurry. Gloating, yet abstracted, as if about to take a bite from a delicious fruit, while his mind was on the higher plane of music… Basking in the luxury of sensuous pleasure.
His eyes wide and misted, Pierre leaned slowly towards his prey; not oblivious to the man's terror, but relishing it. The scarlet tip of his tongue touched his own lips, then the man's neck; he paused there a second, taut with anticipation, his icy breath flowing over the victim's throat. Then he struck.
The man's body convulsed as the fangs went in. Kristian felt an empathic surge of excitement, which turned as swiftly to revulsion. If only all vampires would sip auras instead of blood; if only they wanted to. There was something sinful about this lust for human contact. The pleasures of the flesh, Kristian believed, were to be despised.
To drink from other immortals was different, of course. That was a show of love and power.
The man's hands were white as putty against Pierre's sable coat, waving with outstretched fingers, imploring. Their movement grew feebler as the vampire sucked out his strength; and now they were clutching pathetically at the fabric as the man slid down towards the ground, eyes dropping backwards in his head, jaw hanging slack. Pierre, still clutching him loosely, leaned back against the hedge in a stupor of pleasure, his face flushed and a lock of curly brown hair hanging down over her forehead. Kristian strode forward and seized his coat collar.
"Fool!" he hissed. "Do you want to be discovered? I could see you a mile away."
From Pierre's shocked reaction, he'd clearly had no idea that Kristian was there. He started, and his victim dropped out of his hands and lay at his feet, groaning. But he quickly regained his composure.
"So?" His red mouth curved up at the corners. "If I took someone in broad daylight outside St Stefan's Cathedral, what could anyone do about it?"
"That's not the point," Kristian replied. "Every time a vampire is seen or a victim found, rumours run wild. Less so in this sceptical century, I know, but it still happens. I cannot tolerate their superstitious assumptions, their incomprehension; invoking their pathetic religion against us, who are closer to God than they'll ever be! The dark wings of heaven should be silent and invisible."
"I fear," said Pierre, "that my own spirit is too mean to encompass your ideals, beloved master." He shook himself free of Kristian's grasp and smoothed his coat. Pierre chose expensive clothes yet there was always an untidiness about him which hinted at the poverty he had known in life. A s
pirit burning with anger and injustice, Kristian remembered; ripe, just after the French Revolution, to be initiated into his deathless flock.
"That is no reason not to strive for perfection," said Kristian, unaware of any irony in his words. "You should have known I was watching you. You should have been more alert."
"I was occupied," Pierre said, unabashed. "And you almost frightened me to death… so to speak." He grinned, but Kristian kept a dour expression and poked at the victim with his foot.
"You are careless. If he dies… "
"Oh, he'll go home, have a few bad dreams, perhaps… then he'll forget about it. But what if I had killed him? Why is it acceptable to kill in your way, but not in mine?"
Kristian was in no mood for his flippancy. "A thousand times I have warned you! If you cannot kill invisibly, do not kill at all!" Seizing Pierre, he dragged him deeper into the archway, tore his left sleeve open and ran a sharp fingernail down the inside of his forearm.
Pierre yelped with pain. A string of claret beads seeped out and hung there. Kristian drew the arm to his mouth and licked the blood away in one smooth motion. A new line oozed out slowly. "You cannot die but you can still feel pain," he said, "and how sensitive vampire flesh can be."
An old fear clouded Pierre's blue eyes, knowledge of the older vampire's capabilities. Kristian made a second slash beside the first, more vicious and ragged. At that Pierre burst out furiously, "What the hell have I done to you, Kristian? Haven't I always been loyal? Let me go!"
"Loyal, you?" Anger boiled like tar within him. He tore Pierre's wrist open with his nails, smeared the blood on to Pierre's shirt. "If you don't know, let me help you remember."
"I swear to God I don't know what you're talking about," Pierre cried.
"I am God as far as you're concerned! Tell me where he is!"
"Who?"
"Karl. Tell me."
"Oh. So that's what this is about." The French vampire's eyes narrowed. "You're wrong. I haven't seen Karl for years. What made you think I had?"
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