A Dance in Blood Velvet (35 page)

“I’m not sad, really,” she said, struggling to retrieve her composure. Andreas was so strange; as pernicious and falsely consoling as opium, and just as seductive. She needed to escape his influence. “Once I’ve combed my hair and had a cup of tea, I’ll be ready to face anything.”

“Shall we go home?”

“You go. There’s someone I must see.”

* * *

Benedict slept with the dreamless abandon of a child. When he woke, he found sunlight shining through the curtains, and Holly standing over him.

“Ben!” she said. “Ben, are you ever going to wake up?”

Gods, what a lovely sight. Her face was flushed, brown eyes shining, bobbed hair pushed untidily behind her ears. Not a statue animated by stolen energy, but pink and soft and alive.

“Mm, m’awake.” He reached for her, but she stepped away.

“Get up!”

He pushed himself onto his elbows - then the memories came back. Her betrayal, and their house full of dangerous guests.

“Maud’s downstairs. Please come and talk to her!”

He dressed hurriedly, fully alert now, and ravenously hungry. “Where have you been?” he said. “You just walk out and disappear -”

“Do you blame me, after the things you said? You didn’t come looking for me!”

“How could I, when -” He stopped, and clasped her shoulder. “Look, Holly, no more angry words. Whatever our differences, let’s be calm about them. What do you say?”

She lifted her chin. “Very well. But I didn’t take the Book! I - I spent the night at the shop, then I went to Maud’s lodgings first thing this morning.”

“The shop? Where, on the floor? Good grief. Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Perfectly. Let’s go downstairs and have breakfast in a civilised fashion.”

They went onto the landing; the cottage was quiet. Ben noticed that the doors to the three guest bedrooms were shut; he glanced at the attic stairs, but saw nothing. “Did Andreas find you?”

“Yes,” she said briskly. “Do you seriously think it’s a good idea to send vampires looking for your wife?”

He drew a heavy breath of guilt, and made no reply.

Maud was at the kitchen table, pouring cups of tea. “Hello, Mr Grey. There’s yours, two sugars. I thought I’d make myself useful.”

“You always do. Thanks,” he said, draining the cup in a few swallows. Ah, the restorative power of tea. He studied Maud - fawn skirt and jumper, fawn hair brushed back from her almost-pretty face. The big spheres of her eyes and her prominent teeth gave her a look of breathless innocence; he couldn’t perceive any hint of guilt in her.

Holly leaned towards Maud, resting the heels of her palms on the table edge. “Tell my husband what you told me. About the key.”

The innocent eyes grew larger. “The older Mr Grey came into the shop one day and asked if you kept a house key in the office, and could he borrow it one afternoon. So we arranged a time and I took it to him.”

“Did he give a reason?”

“No. I thought it was all right because he is your brother.”

Ben sank down on a chair and groaned. “Oh, God. So he came in and took the bloody Book himself.”

Maud blinked. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“Yes! No. You weren’t to know. He... borrowed something I didn’t want to lend him.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Holly went on glaring at Maud, not satisfied. “Didn’t it strike you as odd that he asked you instead of me? Did he offer you a reward?”

“Holly, for heaven’s sake -”

“How well do you know Lancelyn Grey?”

“Look, drop it, will you?” Ben said. “Maud, did you know Lancelyn had a sinister motive?”

She shuffled, adopting a wounded voice. “Of course not, Mr Grey.”

“Right, that’s an end to it.” He stood up. “Go and open the shop, would you, Maud? Just carry on as normal. But if my brother approaches you again, you must let me know at once.”

They saw Maud out. Closing the door behind her, Ben put his arms around Holly and they stood in the hallway, holding each other. “Holly, I’m so sorry. How could I doubt you?”

Holly was unresponsive in his arms. “She’s not telling the truth.”

“Well, what is the truth?”

“I don’t know! I can’t be psychic to order! But how can you tell her to ‘carry on as normal’, after she helped Lancelyn break into our home?”

“She didn’t mean to. I know she’s a little odd, but not sly. Darling, she’s just a simple girl who’d help anyone and never suspect any harm.”

Holly seemed about to argue. Instead she relaxed and hugged him, her head on his shoulder. “You were a beast.”

“I know, I behaved unforgivably,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t yourself. This is the effect the vampires are having, if you could only see it! I’m frightened of what’s happening to us.”

“Don’t be.” He kissed her glossy brown hair. “Come and talk. There’s a lot to tell you.”

He led her into the parlour, pausing in shock as he saw Karl and Andreas sitting on opposite sides of the dead fire grate. They were silent, as if they weren’t there at all.

Seeing Karl, Holly stared, pressing a hand to her chest. She uttered a faint, “Oh.”

Her shock is understandable,
Ben thought. He closed the door, and made introductions.

“I am charmed to meet you, Mrs Grey,” said Karl. He took her hand but she froze and pulled away. Still glaring at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m finding it rather hard to be polite, when I know what you are. I find all of this... impossible.”

“Sit down,” said Ben. “Where’s Katerina?”

Karl answered, “We took the first one out after you’d gone to bed. He is doing well. Katerina’s sitting with him.”

Ben saw the blood drain from Holly’s face. He took her hands and told her what had happened, as briefly as he could.

“It won’t work, Ben.” she replied. “I’ve told you all along, this can’t work!”

He felt such sympathy, affection and remorse that he would have done anything to reassure her; unfortunately, he feared she was right. “Love, I’d like you to go away for a while. It’s too dangerous for you here. Do you mind? You can go to your parents.”

She looked less than thrilled at this suggestion.

“For how long?”

“Until it’s over.”

Ben expected Holly to protest vehemently, but she didn’t react. Her eyes were gravid with unexpressed thoughts. Before he could press her, Andreas spoke. “Is no one interested in my adventures? I saw Lancelyn when you sent me to his house last night. I had no chance to take the Book, didn’t even see it. He was asleep, but three shadow figures set on me and almost killed me. All I saw of them were black shapes and silver fire, but their fangs and appetites were real enough. I don’t remember escaping, or how I ended up near the castle. If Karl and Katti hadn’t found me...”

“Three shadows,” Benedict said grimly, “that drank your blood?”

“Yes. I’m sorry to tell you this, my friend, but however terrible your vampires are, Lancelyn has something worse.”

In a small voice, as if forced to confess a secret, Holly said, “I’ve seen them too, Ben. I met Lancelyn in the street and they were with him. Three shadows.”

Ben only believed the tale when Holly confirmed it. Then a huge shudder of emotion went through him from head to foot; pure, searing rage against a foe who could never be outwitted. He hadn’t realised how deep his animosity ran until that terrible moment.

Lancelyn stole the Book and now he has weapons to outdo mine...

“No,” Ben whispered. “Can I
never
be one step ahead of him? Damn him to hell, the bastard!”

Karl and Andreas merely looked at him, then at each other; figures carved of milky jade, too lovely and too cold to share any human empathy.

* * *

“Well?” said Katerina. “What do you think of our friend Benedict?”

She sat on the edge of a bed, tending to the first vampire they’d taken out to feed. He’d fought them all the way, taken three victims, killing two outright. The transformation wrought by the blood was astonishing.

A tall well-muscled male was already discernible, fleshing out the framework of bones. He lay motionless as she gently sponged his naked body; Karl had a fleeting impression of a nurse preparing a corpse. Katerina was intent on her task, her strong hands moving over the pale-gold flesh as if to explore every nuance of its texture. The vampire’s eyes were closed; his hair, already growing, a flaxen mane on the pillow. His face was strong and strangely timeless; his race, impossible to pinpoint. Karl suspected that he was very old.

“Benedict is a driven man,” said Karl. “He’s misguided, but he has power that he clearly doesn’t understand. Have you ever met a mortal with knowledge of the Crystal Ring - let alone any power to control it? That is dangerous, like a child with a bayonet. He’s bound to injure himself or someone else, eventually. And it’s his wife I fear for the most.”

“We may be here a long time,” Katerina said, smiling. “You’re hating this, aren’t you, my dear?”

She was right. “I still feel it’s wrong to bring these vampires back to life - but equally wrong to destroy them. I’m appalled, actually, to find a human interfering in vampire affairs.”

She shrugged. “Interesting, though.”

“You don’t look unhappy about it,” said Karl.

“Oh, it’s an adventure. And I have you and Andrei again! That is all I could ask for. Anything else is... what do you say? Icing.”

The vampire on the bed opened his eyes. The irises were topaz yellow, like a cat’s. Katerina paused, startled. The golden one smiled faintly at her, and closed his lids again.

“He’s going to be beautiful, isn’t he?” she said.

“Divine,” said Karl. “Have you ever seen an ugly vampire?”

Katerina only laughed.

“Do you know him?”

“No, never seen him before,” she said, “but he spoke earlier. Only a few words. He said his name is Simon.”

As she spoke, Benedict appeared in the doorway. He looked quietly furious and not rational.
Difficult,
Karl thought,
for humans to have close contact with vampires and retain their sanity.

“So, I’m misguided, am I? A child playing with dangerous weapons? I will not be patronised, not even by you.”

Simon moved; his limbs twitched, his head tilted up. Katerina went towards Benedict, her hands raised to push him out of the room.

“Mr Grey, for your own safety, you should not -”

The pale-gold vampire surged past her, leaping for the heat of Ben’s blood. Karl felt no impulse to protect him; he simply watched. A certain detachment - exercised with cool judgment on occasion - allowed him to be scientific rather than heroic.

Benedict’s hands hit Simon’s chest with a slap; he struggled against the predator with more than bodily strength. His eyes were wild. Unintelligible words rumbled from his throat. The vampire backed him into the door frame but Benedict kept him at arm’s length, his face crimson with effort.

Suddenly Karl felt the fabric of the Crystal Ring in the air, like ice particles on a thin breeze. The room darkened and trembled. Simon’s grip broke and he backed away, falling to his knees, tearing at his throat as if he were being choked.

“And I can do this to all of you!” Ben shouted, shaking a fist in Katerina’s shocked face. “I keep you all like dogs on invisible chains. If you threaten me, the chain will tighten until it takes your head off.”

Katerina gripped her own throat and backed away from him, looking bewildered, completely human for a moment. The threat didn’t seem to touch Karl. He felt no pain, no constriction.

“Stop this,” he said quietly. “Leave Katerina alone!”

He lifted Simon and helped him back onto the bed, then went to Benedict and seized his arm. Shocked by his speed, Ben tried uselessly to break Karl’s grip.

Katerina gasped with relief. “That hurt, Mr Grey,” she said furiously. “How dare you!”

Karl’s grasp seemed to sober Ben. His face blanched patchily from red to white. Shock and unspent energy swam in his eyes.

“Not me,” said Karl, his mouth close to Ben’s ear. “I don’t know what this hold is that you have over the others - but you cannot wield it over me.”

T
he plush gloom of the theatre felt as familiar as home to Charlotte; the atmosphere sank into her pores like prickles of velvet, thrilling and disturbing. The collective warmth of the audience tempted her; resisting temptation was a physical ache.

Charlotte waited for the curtain to open in a state of unbearable tension, praying for the ballet to work some healing miracle on her.

The past few weeks had been the strangest and most wretched Charlotte had ever known. After Karl and Katerina left, she’d existed in a haze; shell shock, it might be called in a mortal. A void. Although her emotions were harsh, she found the strength to bear them, as if watching her own pain from the outside.

At the beginning she hadn’t fed for days, becoming nearly as white and spare as Katerina. Unable to forget Violette’s horror, she punished herself for it. Starving, Charlotte lost touch with reality. She saw visions of black and silver figures that terrified her; she understood how mystics - such as Kristian - thought they’d seen the face of God. At the end of all, though, they were only hallucinations, dust.

Everything seemed worthless.

Difficult for a starving vampire to be rational. Eventually, blind appetite drove her to seize a victim without conscience and -above all - without illusions of love. Only then did she enter a calmer state.

Karl sent letters that revealed only vague information; they’d found Andreas in England. He gave the address. Charlotte felt nothing; her only thought was,
Thank God it’s not Cambridge.
And she wrote back, but there was little to say; Karl wouldn’t want to hear about Violette, or how concerned about her Charlotte still was. The only thing she truly wanted to say could not be said, because of the way they had parted.

I miss you.

Ilona and Stefan visited her, but Charlotte found reasons to send them away. Ilona was too unsympathetic, mocking; Stefan too kind. She couldn’t bear company, nor could she bear being in the house alone.