The Dark Arts of Blood (69 page)

“I can imagine.”

“I never meant to do such a thing to my uncle, but…”

“He did rather bring it on himself.”

“I dread to think what he would have done if he’d found out that I helped, but he never even guessed. And now he’s gone, and I don’t know what to do. I miss Mariette and the others. I even miss Fadiya.”

“What will happen to his house? His studio?”

“I don’t know. It depends what’s in his will. He spoke of setting up something called ‘The Reiniger Foundation’ to continue his work in perpetuity.” Her voice went tight, sardonic. “Perhaps when the scandal’s died down, someone will take on Bergwerkstatt and make movies about what a wonderful, forgotten hero he was. But after I’ve packed my belongings, I shall never set foot there again. The place feels… haunted.”

Charlotte touched her gloved hand. “Karl and I never wanted to involve you in this sordid matter. I can’t apologise enough, nor ask for forgiveness, but you were more helpful than you know. Can you go out into the world and pretend you never saw a thing, that you don’t know we exist?”

Amy’s eyes glazed for a few seconds.

“I’ll have to try, or everyone will think I’m mad. Oh, the things I’ve seen, Charlotte.
I
would think I needed locking up, if I didn’t know it was all real.” Her expression turned pensive. “I know Uncle Godric could be difficult, and cruel, but I miss him, in an odd way. Now I’ve no one to kick against! He could have been a good man…”

“If only he hadn’t been a sadistic megalomaniac?” said Charlotte. “If he hadn’t carved people up for the thrill of it, sent you to a butcher for medical treatment, planned to marry you off as if sending a cow to a prize bull?” Amy didn’t reply. Her gaze fell.

“What about Wolfgang Notz?” said Charlotte.

“I won’t be marrying him,” she said with a thin laugh.

“I didn’t mean that. Won’t he want to lead your uncle’s organisation?”

“There is no organisation any more. It’s true people liked Wolfgang – that’s why they were so horrified about the blackmail – but now it’s all out in the open, I don’t think they can run a political movement that preaches one thing and does the exact opposite in private.”

“Ah, that’s the thing,” said Charlotte. “Not to get found out. My aunt’s philosophy.”

“She sounds like a wise woman,” Amy said wryly.

“A difficult woman, but I learned a lot from her. Amy, I must go. I hope you’ll remember us with a touch of fondness, not horror. It’s time to think of your own future now.” She pressed a thick roll of British notes and American dollars into Amy’s hand. The girl looked astonished.

“I don’t want money from you! Take it back!”

In response, Charlotte snapped open Amy’s purse and pushed the notes inside. “Please don’t refuse. Violette would like you to film the ballet.”

“Really?” Amy frowned, uncertain.

“Yes. Will you? Treat this as an advance payment. I don’t want you to think we’re paying you out of guilt. Well, maybe a little – but mainly because we want to help. It’s enough for you to travel to Hollywood.”

“Oh, that’s just a dream. My name’s tainted, thanks to my uncle’s appalling movies.”

“Nonsense. I doubt they’ve even heard of you.” Charlotte spoke teasingly, but it was the plain truth.

Amy laughed. “I’m not going to make it in the movies. I won’t become a film star, the next ‘It girl’. It’s a ridiculous idea.”

“Seriously, you can change your name and be anyone you want. You are an actress, after all.”

“A very bad one.”

“Well, even if you fail, at least you won’t look back and regret that you never tried.”

“Actually, I do enjoy working behind the camera. Perhaps I should do that instead. Would-be actresses are ten a penny, but female movie-makers aren’t.”

“Then you should become a director. And if anyone tries to stop you, which they will, get angry and let it make you even more determined.”

Amy’s eyes lit up. Suddenly she was rosy-cheeked, coming back to life again.

“You have just offered me an assignment, haven’t you?”

“Well, Violette has, but yes.”

“A proper job. What am I thinking? Of course I’ll do it.” Her posture straightened, her eyes shone. “This is enough money for Mariette to come to America, too…”

“Then take her with you. You want to do this, don’t you? Work for Violette, then go on your travels?”

“And start my own film company? Oh, more than anything.”

“Well, now you can,” said Charlotte. “But watch out for the vampires.”

* * *

You could not go searching for a
doppelgänger
, Charlotte knew. You had to wait until it came to you. She sat in the dark bedroom, reading by candlelight, calm and composed – as calm as anyone could be while waiting for a ghost.

Niklas’s remains had been carefully collected from the bed – he was not much more than dust and crumbling bone by then – and placed into an urn. Sheets, pillows, quilts, everything had been replaced. All the same, Charlotte could not look at the bed without seeing his pitiful pale body lying there, and Stefan beside him…

She was glad she did not have to sleep on that mattress. Whether she and Karl could ever make love there again was another matter.

When she looked up, her other-self was floating in front of her: a figure in a loose ivory dress, her innocent face haloed by a shimmer of spun-gold hair. The second Charlotte looked like a reflection, with no mirror between them.

She started, as she’d known she would. However hard she schooled herself not to react, she couldn’t help it. She hoped the double would not notice her fear…

If the ghost was aware of anything at all.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” said Charlotte. No answer. She put her book aside, went slowly to the lamia and put her arms around her.

The creature had substance, but she was cold, and gave off a light, chilly scent like the smell of snow. This was the apparition that Godric had boasted of putting on like a coat. Charlotte was furious that he’d used her image in an attempt to seduce Karl, and equally in awe that he’d had the arcane skill and cunning to do such a thing.

But Godric had not created the lamia. If he thought she was a
Weisse Frau
showing him favour, he was simply mistaken. He’d used her as a disguise, but she existed in her own right. Now he was dead, but the spectre was still here, mindlessly yearning… unable to express what she wanted.

Charlotte embraced her in love, not fear.

“Stay with me,” she murmured into the sea-cold whorl of her ear. “You are not separate. You are only a shell, an illusion. An impostor. I have not split in two. I was always whole. If you are a projection of my guilt and my fear, I salute you, because I don’t want to lose my human emotions entirely. If I did, what sort of fiend would I be? But you forget, or rather, we both forget: I’ve been touched by the dark goddess, Lilith. She opened my inner eyes. I even once
became
a goddess, if only for a short time. You cannot fool me forever.”

The spectre was motionless in her arms, waxen and weightless as Niklas had been.

“If you are the half of myself that I sometimes want to disown – the vampire half, who is all appetite and no compassion – that won’t work, either. I accepted what I am when I decided to go with Karl and gave up my human life. We are monstrous, I know, but that’s not
all
we are. And if you simply want to terrify me – well done, my dear. You succeeded.”

She kissed the other Charlotte on the cheek. It was like kissing frost. Her lips burned, and the spectre’s flesh began to dissolve. Where Charlotte’s mouth had touched, a lip-shaped hole appeared and began to spread.

The pale figure smiled. It turned away, and went to look out of the window, apparently gazing at the moon over the mountains. Now Charlotte could see right through her double, as if it were made of glass, or melting ice. After a few moments it dissolved altogether. Charlotte was the one standing at the window… and only the mountains remained, white and ghostly against the night.

* * *

“Natural causes?” said Karl.

“Exactly,” Charlotte replied. What a pleasure to be alone in their rooms at last. They stood together at the open window, talking by the glow of a single lamp. A sharp breeze stirred the curtains. She felt the need for fresh air to blow away the remnants of Reiniger and all the spectral silt that had pooled in the darkness. “He fell ill and died, as people do.”

“But several nights
before
we saw him here?”

“Apparently.”

“So what was it that came to us?” Karl asked softly. “Whose head did I sever?”

He held her gaze as he spoke. The shocked look in his eyes, amber-golden and too bright, disturbed her. Aroused her, too, as he always had. His expression was dark and chilly and fervent all at once, sending thrills through her: hot, cold, hot again.

“I don’t know. I’m sure it was him, but…”

“A revenant,” said Karl. “Something more solid than a ghost. He said that he was part of the Crystal Ring now. And if he still exists in some form, that means we can never be rid of him.”

“Perhaps he is part of the Ring, but not in a coherent form.” Charlotte pressed closer to Karl. She let her hands stray on to him, caressing his shoulders and his beautiful beloved face. “You banished him. He became part of the ether.”

“Oh, I hope so.” He slid a finger between the back of her dress and her skin, stroking her neck. “I think he knew. That’s why he spoke of himself as a metaphorical demon, hoping to torment my conscience forever. It was all he had left.”

“But you mustn’t let him.”

“I doubt I can exorcise him entirely. We influence the Crystal Ring. In turn, it penetrates us.”

“I think that the Crystal Ring is completely insane!” Charlotte said fiercely.

“How so?” His breath was warm on her neck. He drew her hair aside and kissed her there, making her nearly collapse with desire. It was so long since they’d touched each other freely…

“It’s like the mind of a lunatic,” she said. “A brew of human and unhuman thoughts, simmering with ambition and malevolence and passion, governed by no logic whatsoever – what else could it be? A man like Godric Reiniger, trying to tap its powers, was bound to come to grief. No wonder we’re all half-mad, too.”

“I played my part in how his life shaped him.”

“But you didn’t start it.”

“In a sense, I did, when I fed on his father.”

“His father was only prey in the dark. You couldn’t know where it would lead.”

“True. Just prey in the dark. We never know where chance encounters will lead, do we? I think he meant it when he said he died in his cinema. Humiliation can be worse than death.”

“I never knew you had such a devious side,” she said. “Filming him
in flagrante
? How absolutely perverse.”

“I always told you I have no morals, beloved,” Karl said with a smile. “That said, we had no idea what he planned to do.”

“Stealing my double to use as a disguise?” she said with a flash of anger. “How dare he? That went far beyond immorality to outright violation. Of
her
, as much as us.”

“Yes. One more reason to destroy him. If only I’d done so sooner, but…”

“You found him a little fascinating, didn’t you?” She narrowed her eyes. “Admit it.”

“In a way,” he said with half a shrug. “Yes, certain humans… We all have a weakness for them. I’m not immune. And he was a remarkable specimen. They say the desert is like an alchemist’s crucible: it will burn you up or transmute you. I took him there with some idea that he could be redeemed, but it was too late.”

“He was irredeemable,” she said. “I could never forgive him for what he did to Stefan, or Amy, or you. The harm he did all of us.”

“Well, Godric had his revenge on me. I took my revenge on him. I think all things were equal in the end.”

Karl’s hands slid firmly and slowly all the way down her back. Now she couldn’t catch her breath at all. She nipped the skin of his throat between her teeth. He lifted her chin and kissed her, pushing his fingers into her hair. His mouth was so warm, familiar… she opened her lips to him, thirsting, tasting him as if she were a bee starved of nectar.

Almost unconsciously their fingers began to work at each other’s clothes. It seemed forever since they had lain naked together, entwined. This was the first time since the night of the cold knife that she’d felt free to love Karl without harming him.

Logic suggested that the danger had been all in her mind, but she knew – her deep, subconscious instinct knew – that it had been real.

The dread had lifted only when Reiniger vanished for the last time. To think he’d exerted sinister control over everything, and they hadn’t even known until it was over – she couldn’t think about that. Nothing mattered now but Karl and this rising, uncontrollable thirst, the bliss of complete abandonment.

His ardent response told her without words that he knew the lamia was gone. He didn’t need to ask, and she was glad. They were as healthy as vampires could ever be, or as contagious as each other: whatever the case, they were equal. Inside each other, sharing blood, sharing pain, pleasure, everything.

Later she would tell him,
Yes, the lamia’s gone – because she’s part of me again. She’s me and I am her. One being. And I know what she wanted after all.

She wanted to come home.

* * *

A final dress rehearsal was not the best time for Fadiya to reappear. Violette completed her solo and ran into the wings – resplendent in her ‘dark temptress’ costume from
Witch and Maiden
– straight into a figure camouflaged in olive green.

Fadiya’s eyes widened. Violette realised she’d never seen her in stage costume before, now looking every inch the glamorous witch in black and purple tulle.

“Fadiya,” said Violette without inflexion. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“I’d love to see the ballet,” said Fadiya. “You look… astonishing. I did not know so much work went into it: all these musicians, wonderful scenery… I would like to see Emil dance, just once.”

“Well, I’ll leave you a complimentary ticket at the box office,” Violette answered mildly, “as long as you keep away from him. Why are you here?”