Struck with an awful image of seizing Violette, here in the lobby in front of everyone... Charlotte thought she had better leave before she was tempted to do just that.
Janacek strode over from the desk, his footsteps heavy on the thick carpet. He gave Charlotte the briefest glance as he sat by his ballerina and began to speak quietly to her. Their voices were hardly above a whisper, but Charlotte could hear them easily. They were discussing a private party to be held in this hotel, after tonight’s final performance of Giselle.
Charlotte rose to leave, but couldn’t go without saying something to Violette; just a word of appreciation. It might be her only chance. She looked straight at Violette as she spoke, not trying to conceal her vampire luminosity.
“Madame Lenoir, forgive me for interrupting, but I want to thank you for all the pleasure your dancing has given me. I’ve been to almost every performance of Giselle. Nothing else has helped me forget my troubles; only your dancing.”
Violette had no chance to respond before Janacek leaned forward, shielding her. “Madam, don’t you know it is extremely rude to interrupt a private conversation?” He spoke with a heavy Eastern European accent. “We appreciate the sentiment, but Madame Lenoir does not care for unsolicited approaches.”
Charlotte’s eyes flicked to him, widening, turning as frigid as Violette’s. “Well, forgive me, Herr Janacek. I won’t waste your time by praising your choreography. Good-day.”
She walked away slowly, her head high, not looking back. Her only feeling was one of hollowness. I said it would break the magic; feet of clay, all these great people.
As she reached the glass-panelled oak door, she heard heavy footsteps behind her. She kept walking; Janacek caught her up as she stepped outside.
“Gnädige Frau, allow me to apologise. I show bad manners. Madame Lenoir has many, many people who wish to speak with her; it is a great strain, and always I must protect her. I am sorry.”
Charlotte glanced behind him into the hotel, saw no sign of Violette. “It’s quite all right,” she said coolly. “I am very honoured to meet you, Herr Janacek.”
“And I am honoured to be recognised. Most people only know the dancers,” he said, nodding. His smile was warm and a lock of grey hair tumbled over his forehead. But she remembered the blood-and-metal spikes of his aura, and the way he had caressed Violette’s costumes. “May I know your name?”
“Charlotte Alexander.” That wasn’t her last name; it was actually Karl’s middle name, but it pleased her to use it.
“Charlotte?” He frowned suddenly. “You leave flowers once -?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She turned away, but he came after her, as she knew he would.
“Wait, Frau Alexander. You spoke of troubles she helped you forget; your words touched me. I see in your eyes a tragedy...”
Hardly that, she thought, wondering if he assumed she had some fatal disease. In a way, she had. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“You are a great lover of ballet? It means much to you, to meet Madame Lenoir?”
“It would have done, had I actually met her,” Charlotte said coolly. “I’m thinking of certain young girls to whom it would mean the world to meet their heroine; I hope she is kinder to them than she was to me, or who knows how many potential dancers she may disillusion for life.”
The choreographer looked startled. “You are a teacher. I should have known.”
Charlotte smiled. “What can I tell the children about the day I met the great Lenoir?”
He spoke with animation, words falling over each other. “You understand that there are many people who would make demands on Lenoir’s time if she let them, but she is an extremely busy and hard-working dancer. She is shy, she does not trust strangers.”
“I appreciate that.”
“However, I might be able to arrange a proper introduction, if I can persuade Madame to see you. You would like this?” His eagerness, she noted with sad amusement, was not to be generous to a supposed ballet teacher, but to seduce her. On him, her beauty had worked effortlessly.
Although she tried to resist, the idea of meeting Violette again was enticing. She did not need this man to arrange an introduction, but she played the game.
“Perhaps I could come to the party tonight? I couldn’t help overhearing...”
Sudden hardness in his eyes, charm switched off. “Ah no. Too soon. It is a private party.” Then the warmth returned. “But if you would do me the honour of letting me take you to supper tomorrow night? I know. Come to the theatre this afternoon, while we rehearse. I make sure you have the best seat for tonight’s performance, and we will arrange our rendezvous, yes?”
Charlotte put on an innocently awed expression, as if she couldn’t believe the great man had asked her out. “That would be delightful.” She turned, waving a gloved hand at him as she descended the steps. “Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Janacek.”
A womaniser; very charming and brilliant, but a manipulator... That was the impression she gained of Violette’s mentor.
That afternoon, she went to the theatre as suggested, but didn’t announce her presence. Instead she moved in and out of the Crystal Ring, listening and watching. Janacek, an obsessive perfectionist, was drilling the corps de ballet through the fine details of their steps, shouting at everyone from musicians to stagehands about the minuscule imperfections of the previous night. Violette appeared late in the afternoon and marked her steps mechanically, conserving her energy for the performance. She looks tired, Charlotte thought, watching now from the wings; melting away into the shadows whenever she sensed danger of being seen.
When they took a break, Charlotte entered the Crystal Ring and followed Janacek and Violette to the ballerina’s dressing room. Invisible, she saw the room as a mesh of silvery lozenges tilted at dizzy angles, while the humans were two auras; one harshly red like hot metal, the other a shimmer of lilac, indigo and silver.
She found an alcove and eased herself into the real world, hovering between two realms, in case she had to vanish again quickly. Wedged between a screen and a big square sink, she could see most of the room. No luxury here; cascades of fresh flowers did little to disguise the bare walls and noisy water pipes.
Violette was retying a pointe shoe, resting her foot on a wicker clothes-hamper. She was smaller than she looked on stage, her body breathtakingly slender and firm. Even in practice clothes, with her hair in a loose ebony coil on her neck, her presence filled the room like the white fragrance of lilies.
Janacek leaned on her dressing table and folded his arms, watching her. He said, “I went after that young woman who spoke to you.”
“I know you did. I’m not really interested.”
“Her name is Charlotte Alexander. Don’t you remember, we found flowers in a locked dressing room, ‘From Charlotte’?”
Violette paused, tensing like a bird poised to take flight. “So? I’d forgotten. There are hundreds of women called Charlotte. What was she, anyway, a journalist?”
“No.” There was a sly, hungry look to his smile. “A ballet teacher. She wants to meet you.”
“Oh, God.” Violette tied and retied the white ribbons impatiently, as if taking out suppressed anger on them. “Why? What is wrong with these people? Does she think I can give her magic to dance or teach better? People and their questions. I get up, I work myself to exhaustion, I go to bed; why do they think a ballerina’s life is so wonderful?”
“Come, my angel; the people you work with, the life you lead -so far from ordinary folk, of course they find you fascinating. The creation of beauty is magic to them. They want you to be the ice goddess who is also sweet and ordinary; irrational expectation, but it gives them hope that one day they may be like you.” He sounded as if he were mocking her in some subtle way.
“I’ve nothing to give except my dancing. I can’t waste time making small talk with strangers.”
Janacek laughed. “You don’t have to meet her. I only tell her I might persuade y
ou.”
Violette, repinning her hair, turned to him with narrowed eyes. “Ah. I see. You found her attractive, I suppose?”
He laughed. “Are you jealous? I could spin this out for weeks; drop her a crumb here and there, keep her dangling with promise that I may introduce you next time, if she is patient.”
Violette turned away, cold disgust on her face. “I suppose you’ll sleep with her.”
“Of course. They do anything, these women, for a chance to get close to the famous genius.”
“You make me sick,” Violette whispered.
Janacek reached out to her, pulling her towards him and linking his hands around her tiny waist. “If we could, my darling, I would need no one else.”
She stood rigid in his arms, pulling in her stomach so tight that her ribs showed. She said nothing, but the snake-glitter of her eyes made Charlotte shiver. How dare he fondle a woman who looked at him like that? How dare he touch her at all?
Janacek only chuckled and patted the dancer’s taut abdomen. “Oh, I know. A little accident would ruin your career, not to mention your perfect figure. But while you keep saying no, you can’t deny me amusement elsewhere.”
Violette’s face could have turned flesh to stone. “I don’t care what you do. And I don’t want to hear about it; not this woman, nor any other.”
“You are ungrateful,” he said, giving her a little shake. “At least they are women, not men.”
“I don’t care if you copulate with goats, as long as I don’t find out!”
A lizard-like smile folded his features. “How tragic. A lovely woman, jealous of farmyard animals.”
The instant he let her go, Violette rushed across the room to the sink. Charlotte slipped quickly into the other-realm. The dancer turned on the tap and splashed her face with cold water. Doing so, she stood half in Charlotte’s space, so that her aura passed straight through Charlotte.
Unbelievably delicious. Tight-threaded with pain, yet silver-cool, jewel-like, intimate. It was all Charlotte could do not to drink the aura. When Violette moved away she was left stunned, aching from head to toe. She felt fiercely protective of Violette, outraged at Janacek’s behaviour. How dare he treat her with such contemptuous familiarity?
“Can we please get on with this rehearsal?” Violette snapped. “I would like a rest before tonight. Torment me when it’s over, if you must; until then, I don’t want to discuss anything but Giselle.”
She stalked out of the room, the choreographer following. As they left, Charlotte saw him slide his hand over her buttocks and between her thighs; a gesture not of affection, but of power.
* * *
Karl found Katerina reclining on the sofa in the dying light of the fire. A book lay open on her lap, unread; her head was tipped back, hands lying loose at her sides. Her eyes, half-closed, formed two arcs of tear-soaked lashes.
“Katti?” he said, taking her hand. “What’s wrong?”
She sighed and resettled herself against the sofa wing. “Nothing, really, my dear. I’m so tired. I wish I could sleep. I wish to God we could sleep; why must we go on and on, always awake?”
Karl thought, If only Charlotte could see how vulnerable she is - if only Katti would let her see - there might be understanding between them.
“Have you fed tonight?”
“Of course. It’s not lack of blood; I’ve been feeding like a lion, not an invalid. It’s tiredness of spirit, because I can’t enter the Crystal Ring.”
“I know,” said Karl.
“I ache for it, more than for blood.” She stretched out her arms, uncurling her broad, strong hands. “To dissolve... to feel that lovely glassy air around me and float on the clouds. The trance. The refreshing trance of infinity...” A tear left a silver trail on her cheek. Karl brushed it away with his thumb.
“Your strength will come back,” he said.
“Why is it taking so long?”
“I couldn’t enter the Ring for days after you bit me. Be patient. You have been very ill, and so weak.”
“So dead, you mean.”
“And that is why it takes longer.”
“I know.” She smiled, her brown eyes sleepily warm. “You always make me feel better. When I can travel again, we’ll look for Andreas.”
“And Kristian,” Karl said heavily. “I must know what happened to him.”
“You won’t go without me, will you? We do this together.”
“We agreed we’d wait until you are ready.” He kissed her hand. All too easy to lose his detachment and forget how much time had passed... even to forget Charlotte, while she wasn’t here. “But we must find the truth. Haven’t you wondered why it’s so hard for us to die?”
“God’s little messengers, aren’t we?” she said, smiling. “That’s what Kristian believed. God’s revenge on mankind. The thoughts in His head cannot die.”
“What if we aren’t God’s creations, but those of humanity itself? Imagine this: the Crystal Ring creates and sustains us. It is a replica of Earth and sky, recreated by a billion human minds. The energy of human thought made physical.”
Katti’s face turned stony. “And what does that make us?”
“The distillation of their greatest hopes and fears.”
She reflected. “Well, their greatest hope must be eternal life... and their fear, death.”
“Yes, we bring what they fear - but there’s one thing worse than death, and that is the idea of the dead coming back. Death is merely tragic, but returning from the grave is both horrific and unnatural.”
“God!” she exclaimed. “However much one misses dear Uncle Johann, the last thing one wants is him knocking on the back door all covered with grave-mud and worms.” She started to laugh. “Is this what you believe now?”
“You know me, Katti. It’s dangerous to be convinced you know the absolute truth; I’ve seen too many people, human and vampire, destroy themselves and others with dogma. I find it more interesting to remain an agnostic. But is this theory any more unlikely than believing that the Crystal Ring is the mind of God?”
“I liked that,” she said. “It was one good thing that Kristian taught us. Comforting.”
“In that it saved you having to feel guilty?”
She was amused. “I never feel guilty anyway. But yes. And don’t ask me to change.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Where did you hear these strange ideas, anyway? From Charlotte?” Karl didn’t reply, but she said, “I thought so. You should be careful of her. Humans have a word for people like her, who ‘see things’. Fey. That’s what she is.”
Her words saddened him. She saw the cooling of his expression and said, “Don’t look like that. You know I’m only teasing.”
“And you know you’re not, so don’t pretend to be amazed that I’m not laughing,” he said softly. “Don’t criticise her; you don’t know her.”
“And how well do you? Why does she keep going to the same ballet, Karl? I should watch her. If she’s fastened on some human... It’s all too easy. You used to resist, I know, but you were unnatural - and even you fell in the end. She’s behaving like Kristian! Don’t you recall? The way he went to your concerts and sat staring at you, night after night?”
“I could hardly forget.” With effort, Karl spoke calmly. “I’m not unaware of what might be happening. I don’t like it; I am selfish, I want Charlotte to myself, I can’t bear the thought of her having divided loyalties. But then, I am inflicting the same on her.”
“I know. And you can’t convince her we are only friends... because we weren’t.”
Katerina was right; uncomfortably so. He said, “I wish you would be kinder to her.”
“When have I been unkind? I am myself; not my fault she doesn’t like that. Why does she keep leaving us alone together, unless a human is offering something better?”
She was trying to goad him. “Jealousy, as you keep pointing out, is a human reaction.”
“A terrible strain, havin
g to rise above such emotions,” she said tartly. “Perhaps we are not as divine as we imagine.”
“The point is this, Katti. If I forbade her to go, I’d be behaving just as her own father and brother did when they discovered our relationship. They tried desperately hard to protect her from me, but their efforts came to nothing. Trying to hold Charlotte is like trying to capture air in a net. But if I give her freedom, she will come back.”
“You may only make her think you don’t care.”
“We know each other better than that.”
“Do you really? Dear Karl, I know it’s not in your nature to lay down the law, but it might be in your interests to find out where this caprice is leading.”
He only shook his head. He didn’t want to listen, but a cold pearl of dread had been growing since the first time Charlotte saw Violette.
“She will come back.”
“Will she? She’s already been away longer than usual. She doesn’t understand you as I do! Oh, damn it.” Katerina lost her voice. She turned her head away, pressed her lips together. Then she took Karl’s hand. “I have nothing against Charlotte, truly. Only it seems the blink of an eye since we three were together. You and I and Andreas, I mean. But it’s such a long time, and everything has changed. You’re the only link, Karl. I’m doing my best, but it’s very hard to share you.”
* * *
Charlotte left the theatre without speaking to Janacek. He did not know she’d ever been there. But that night - still without having been home to Karl - she went to see the last performance of Giselle.
Perfection; no hint of disharmony behind the scenes. Violette’s dancing was incandescent, as if she threw all her passion and energy into the closing performance. By the second act she’d half-exhausted herself - which gave Giselle’s ghost a ragged, heartbreaking fragility. At the end, the applause was an uproar. Violette danced her curtain calls, each one a performance in itself.
A Dance in Blood Velvet Page 14