The Dark Arts of Blood (63 page)

Both men’s faces were plainly discernible. One was Karl, who was known to barely anyone here. The other, however, was unmistakable as Godric Reiniger.

Utter silence fell as they wrestled in the doorway with apparent feverish lust, Godric thrusting Karl back into the wall. Then Karl moved away, and Godric went into the centre of the room and stripped naked. The audience murmured with confusion and blank shock.

“Not bad for his age,” Stefan whispered. “He’ll run to fat if he’s not careful, though.”

The images jumped forward a little: that was where Amy had spliced the first reel to the second. Then the action continued.

No sign of the ghostly Charlotte whose shape he’d borrowed. Only Reiniger, unclothed and faintly ridiculous.

There were sniggers in the audience. A couple of women and a priest marched for the exit, their faces pictures of outrage. Everyone else stayed riveted in their seats. Even Reiniger appeared paralysed. Karl saw the muscles in his neck stand out, his shoulders rising as he gripped the seat arms.

There was some jerkiness as the camera operator moved towards the bedroom door. Now there was a narrow view of Karl just inside the room, his shirt undone, while Reiniger grappled with another man on the bed. He rose above Stefan, poising himself with clear intent –

Karl had cut the film there, just before he fell on to Niklas’s body and vanished, screaming.

Stefan had added some captions.

“Herr Reiniger demonstrates the vices… That we shall obliterate from the glorious Motherland!” Another in smaller letters, “The rest of this scene was deemed too obscene for those of a sensitive disposition…” And a final frame, “Private viewings on request. Worth every franc!”

“We should have left Niklas in,” whispered Stefan. “See, even in death he helps us. Reiniger’s screaming was hilarious.”

The film ended there. Karl turned off the projector, flicked on the house lights and waited for the storm.

“He demonstrates those vices with great enthusiasm, doesn’t he?” someone called laconically from the audience.

The murmur grew towards uproar, an awful brew of mockery and outrage. Another man in the front row leapt to his feet and snarled at Godric. “You dared to blackmail
me
?”

It was Wolfgang. Amy shrank in her seat, like a schoolgirl trying hard not be noticed.

“He did what?” said someone else.

Wolfgang Notz turned to face the crowd, waving one hand at the blank screen. He was shaking with anger. “Godric blackmailed me for years over these so-called vices, and there he is – you saw him – doing the same and worse!”

Reiniger was on his feet, red-faced and yelling.

“Fakery! Lies! This is a prank designed to humiliate—” All the time he glared up at the projection booth, trying to discern who’d betrayed him.

No one was listening. Over the noise, a second man stood up and called out, “He’s coerced me, too.”

“And me.”

“Oh, let’s talk about bribery! Attack Wolfgang and you attack us all!”

Another five men were on their feet – all members of the inner circle, Karl saw – declaring solidarity with Wolfgang Notz.

Deathly silence fell and lasted a full five seconds before more voices rose, hurling questions and accusations.

Some of the town officials were sitting very still, saying nothing at all.

Reiniger barked at them, “Where do you think the money comes from to finance this enterprise, and your jobs, our party, your role in my plans, our very future?”

He continued haranguing them, but Wolfgang stood with his feet braced, an expression of profound disgust on his face.

“Now the truth’s out,” he said. “Now you all know! I am no saint – Reiniger threatened me with public disgrace and jail, if I did not nearly bankrupt my family to keep funding him – but look, how is he any better than me? Than any of us?”

“This is all trickery and lies!” cried Reiniger.

Wolfgang looked stoical in the face of injustice, while Godric appeared to verge on hysteria. Amy had told Karl that Godric’s followers trusted Wolfgang, making him a threat to her uncle’s leadership. People could overlook sexual proclivities more easily than they could forgive hypocrisy, it seemed. Extorting money from the most popular member of their clique went beyond the pale.

“I have no answer to this, except to leave,” Wolfgang said calmly. “If you support Godric Reiniger, stay. If you don’t, you’re free to leave with me.”

There was a shuffling sound of feet moving towards the exit. Dignitaries first, then Godric’s supporters, employees and his entire household followed Wolfgang Notz out of the cinema. Amy came last, casting Karl and Stefan a quick glance as she passed. Her expression was like stone.

Godric stood furious and bewildered as he watched everyone abandon him.

Stefan unlocked the booth door. Karl untied the dazed projectionist and pushed him out after the others. Then he and Stefan descended the shallow steps to the front of the theatre, guided Reiniger back to his seat and sat down on either side of him.

Reiniger produced an
Istilqa
knife from his pocket, twirled it between his hands then stabbed it into the velvet arm of his seat. He seemed to realise the weapon would not help him. Stefan and Karl had both suffered enough wounds to withstand the worst of its power.

“I hope you are pleased with this day’s work,” said Reiniger.

“You were the star of your own movie,” said Stefan. “What’s to complain about?”

“How did you do it?” His gaze was fixed on the blank screen, his fingers drumming the knife handle.

“We purchased a camera,” said Karl, bending the truth for Amy’s sake. “We bought the equipment and chemicals and we learned how to use them. It was not especially difficult. I’m sure it’s hard to make a
good
movie, but not to make one so basic.”

“That is not what I meant.”

Godric stopped. Karl hoped he wouldn’t ask who was operating the camera, but he seemed to have something more complex on his mind.

“Are you referring to the fact that we knew it was you in the guise of my wife?” Karl asked coolly. When Godric didn’t answer, he went on, “Did you think your illusion would fool me? It did not. Nor did it fool the camera.”

“Much to our delight,” Stefan put in.

“How did
you
do it?” said Karl. “That’s the real question. How have you acquired the power to enter the Crystal Ring? We expected you to appear at some point – that’s why the camera was ready – but as yourself, not in disguise. How did you gain the skill to take on someone else’s shape? That is a form of magic, and I don’t even believe in magic.”

“You have been the bane of my life, Karl,” said Godric.

“Are you going to answer?”

“You’re the curse of my life, not least in killing my father, but in this damned…
obsession
you woke in me. Isn’t that the very essence of a vampire? You’re not content with taking the blood and energy of the living – you have to hold us in thrall, too. You make humans fall in love with you because you have to possess
everything
, even our beating hearts. I swear to God, I never felt a moment of lust towards another male until I saw you.”

“Oh, come off it,” Stefan said with vicious scorn. “You needn’t lie to us. You do understand the reason they all walked out, don’t you? Aside from the fact that you showed them an embarrassingly obscene film starring your good self? Some might be scandalised by your sexual preferences, but far worse than those are your double standards.
Don’t
tell me you have never looked at or touched another man but Karl. Pretending to be Charlotte while you accosted him is one of the worst displays of cowardice and duplicity I’ve ever witnessed. And for
me
to say that is quite something.”

“Shut up,” Godric growled, “you filthy little male whore.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Stefan replied with terrifying sweetness. “You tried to deceive Karl in order to molest him. Your actions were a shade away from rape, weren’t they? You molested me quite thoroughly, come to that. And my brother. Shall we add necrophilia to your list of interests?”

“
Shut up
.” He sounded on the verge of exploding. “It was Karl’s power I wanted. Nothing else. His power.”

“You liar.”

“Godric, I am sorry,” Karl said, raising a hand to quiet Stefan. “I wish my path had never crossed yours or your father’s. What you say about vampires is true. That’s why I try to keep out of human sight, to avoid such complications. I never set out with the intention of making you hate or desire me. If you’ve suffered those feelings, I am truly sorry. But Stefan’s right – your actions are your own responsibility. So I ask again, have you become a vampire? If not, what are you?”

“I thought you had the answer to everything, you creatures of the supernatural realm.”

“We don’t.”

He lit a cigarette and puffed on it as if it were oxygen to save his life.

“I’ve already told you. The
sakakin
cuts let in the light and energy of another realm, a little at a time. I thought the only way to enter the… the ‘Crystal Ring’ was to become one of your kind. But after you rejected me, I thought… Why should not a man enter the higher realm of his own will? And I did it. I’m not even sure how. I was angry. I cut the necessary patterns in my own flesh, I felt the realm reaching into me, and I
willed
myself to enter.”

“As simple as that?” Stefan said in a small, sardonic voice.

“Not simple. It’s taken years. But I had support and encouragement from the higher world.”

“What about the need for blood?” Karl asked. He was mystified. He knew of humans who’d tried to enter Raqia without help. He’d never heard of anyone succeeding so consummately.

“I have no need for blood,” Reiniger snapped. “I achieved what you told me was impossible. I have all a vampire’s powers with none of its unfortunate habits. Strength, access to the other realm, higher perceptions. I have become, in effect, the first perfect, superior human. A springboard towards something immense…”

“Not quite perfect, since you’ve just lost all your followers,” Karl interrupted.

“I don’t care,” Reiniger said through his teeth. “I’ll find new and better ones.”

“I rather think you do care,” said Karl. “Who will follow you now? Everyone knows that you don’t practise what you preach. For your sake I hope no one calls the police.”

“D’you think they’ll try to prosecute me for blackmail, or obscenity? Let them try! Humans cannot touch me now. Charlotte? I put her on like a coat.”

His sneering remark made Karl freeze with anger.

“What do you mean?”

“I kept seeing her, like a ghost haunting me. I realised she was from the hidden world, a
Weisse Frau
as they’re called in folklore. Perhaps even Perchta herself, a goddess – and here she was, submitting herself to
my
needs by taking the shape of your lady friend. It was a clear sign. So I summoned the
Weisse Frau
and used her form to cloak mine.”

“Summoned her, how?”

“Beckoned her to me. Used the force of my resolve. She was a
very
willing collaborator indeed. She displayed no mind or intention of her own, any more than an image on film has a mind. Perfect.” Godric smirked. “I stepped inside her shape, as I said, as if putting on a coat. It was easy. Her shape did exactly what I willed it to do. And I almost fooled you, did I not?”

Malign energy radiated from him: a blend of anger, frustration, arrogance, and the deadly chill of the
Istilqa
knives.

He is not bluffing
, thought Karl.
Whatever he has become, it’s dangerous. An entity that might wish to annihilate vampires, as well as dominate mortals.

“‘Almost’ was not nearly close enough,” said Karl. “As Stefan said, trying to mislead me by impersonating Charlotte was a singularly vile act of deceit.”

“But Karl, the point is that I’ve learned what needs to be done with you,” said Reiniger. “Obsession is a form of weakness. Anything that wakes lust or infatuation must be crushed. It’s nothing but a distraction, an obstacle to enlightenment. Therefore desire can
only
be used as a pathway to domination. The object must be used, violated, destroyed. Like a tumour, it must be cut out.”

On the last word, he seized the dagger and plunged it at Karl’s throat.

By reflex, Karl caught Reiniger’s wrist with the blade-tip just grazing his throat. The next Karl knew, they were in the Crystal Ring together – Reiniger following as Karl tried to slip free. Gripping each other’s arms with hands like vulture claws they struggled, fighting as he and Kristian had fought in the old days.

Karl propelled himself upwards, through the cobwebby ceilings until he soared above the house and into the higher layers. Cobalt-blue light shone between storm clouds edged with white fire. As always, he became a dark, lacy demon, but Reiniger changed too.

The change was subtle at first. Godric glowed. He became a manic waxwork replica of himself.

At least he did not look like Charlotte.

He had dropped the knife. Instead he fought and moved with all the agile power of a vampire, his hands like shackles on Karl’s arms. He showed no sign of fear. Clearly he was already an adept in this realm. Terrifyingly strong, even without the ability to drink Karl’s blood.

“I will have your power, Karl,” Godric rasped in his ear. “I’ll feast on you in every possible way.”

Karl grew cold as they rose. His attacker was stealing power, not from his veins, but directly from the aura of his life force. Reiniger’s body began to increase in size: muscles thickening, marble-white head lengthening.

“I have become the first perfect, superior human,” he had said. “A springboard to something immense.”

“What are you?” Karl whispered.

A huge hand closed on his neck and began to squeeze. The face staring into his was now twice its human size. Tangled white hair emerged from Godric’s skull and began to writhe and tumble towards his shoulders.

“I am Berchtold, Lord of the Wild Hunt,” came the voice, a distorted roar. “I am Woden, god of the mountains. I am here to protect and save my land, destroy all our enemies. I
am
the land, and no demonic
strigoi
feet shall tread here.”