A Dance in Blood Velvet (52 page)

Ilona had fed recently, and was warm under his hands. The red-rose flush of blood in her veins maddened Andreas and he bit her throat as he thrust into her. She gasped and laughed, encouraging him. But Andreas was not naturally savage and she outdid him, ripping his back with her nails, stabbing her fangs into his neck, chest, arms, anywhere she could reach; leaving a dozen wounds. Not neat pairs of holes, but blood-filled gouges and pits. She tore out chunks of his flesh, convulsing so violently with her climax that she almost broke his back.

Andreas’s pleasure was sharp, exquisite, over too soon; and after, Ilona still clung to him, drawing hard on a vessel she’d opened in his chest. His strength was gone. He knew, too late, that she’d stolen too much of his blood.

Now he was fighting to escape, hair falling into his eyes as he struggled against the pale steel of her limbs. “Stop, for pity’s sake! You - fiend from hell - you’ll kill me!”

He felt her fangs retract, stinging pain rushing into the holes she’d left. He hurt all over. Ilona smiled lazily at him, her face beautifully flushed. “Did that give you something else to think about?”

“You’re insane,” he said.

“That’s not very romantic.”

“No one’s ever tried to half-kill me before.”

“You should go out more.” She turned on her side and leaned on her elbow. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that. My God, you needed no encouragement! Oh, get up and rearrange your clothing before someone walks in.”

“I can’t move.”

“Nonsense.” She straightened her rumpled dress, refastened Andreas’s buttons. Then she dug her fingers into his collarbone and pointed at the window. “Go out there, find some luscious young man, and take back the blood I drew from you. Take more. Maybe then you’ll remember the point of this pointless existence.”

“You’re right,” Andreas said languidly. “Wounds heal.” And he grabbed her relaxed arm and bit hard into her wrist before she could stop him.

* * *

Ben took Holly to their bedroom and sat her in an armchair by the small fireplace.

“I’m all right. Don’t fuss,” she said.

Clasping her limp hand, he asked gently, “Did you really feel Lancelyn’s daemons in the house?”

“Perhaps not inside... but somewhere near. Everything’s black and cold... I’m so tired.” Her face was horribly pale. “Karl’s right,” she said. “What if you or Lancelyn should die?”

“Holly, don’t.” He embraced her and they hugged each other fiercely.

“I couldn’t bear it.”

“No one’s going to die,” he said into her hair. He felt like crying; he saw now that all Holly’s spirit and happiness had faded, and he hadn’t even noticed. “Hush. Karl and the others are our friends.”

“How can they be? They’re savage creatures, elementals. They don’t care about us; they’ll use you and... It’s suicidal, Ben. You’ve known it from the beginning but you wouldn’t stop. You never would listen to me - neither you nor Lancelyn.”

“I know, love, but it’s too late now.” Ben pressed her down with his hands, soothing, restraining. “There’s no choice. We need to be strong. Finding Lancelyn is a matter of urgency. Have you any idea where he is?”

“None.” She went stiff under his hands, defiant.

“But you’ve had visions of him. Was there no clue?”

“No, nothing at all.”

“Well, we’re going to find him anyway. Relax.”

There was fear in her eyes. “I can’t, Ben.”

He felt refusal in every line of her, and knew in his heart she was too exhausted to endure hypnosis. His heart, however, was not ruling him. Lancelyn’s face filled his inner vision, grinning and mocking, with three inky figures looming over his shoulder. Holly’s reluctance became a vexing obstacle between him and his opponent.

“Look, I know you’re breaking an oath, but he’s hardly kept faith with you, has he?”

Her silence was ominous, sullen. Then she sat up, and the look in her eyes flayed him. They burned with betrayal, as if he’d done her some monstrous wrong. “Have
you?”

“What on earth are you talking about?” he exclaimed.

She went still, her face mask-like. Eventually she forced out the words. “Tell me the truth about Maud.”

“What the devil’s she got to do with this?”

“She claimed that you used to take her in the office and...”

“What?”

“For goodness’ sake, you know what I’m asking! She claimed you wanted to leave me for her.” Holly spoke rapidly, one hand on her forehead as if overcome by shame.

Ben was sincerely astonished. “Maud and I - lovers? That’s preposterous. I’ve never laid a finger on her, never wanted to, thank you very much.”

She groaned. “I knew you’d say that!”

“What am I supposed to say?” He was irritated now. The last thing he needed was this complication. “One shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but you said yourself she was a cunning, manipulative liar.”

“I know, but you don’t see,” she persisted. “However much you deny it, I can never be completely
sure
you’re telling the truth. And I’ve given her victory by asking the question, which I swore I never would.”

Although he desperately wanted to reassure her, the difficulty of doing so angered him. He wanted the matter settled so they could get on with finding Lancelyn. At that moment, Sam, who’d been flat out on the bed, stalked over and leapt onto Holly’s lap. She plunged her hands into his fur as if he were her last hold on sanity.

Ben took her pale cheeks between his palms, beginning the hypnotism without permission. “Darling, please believe me. I’ve only ever wanted you. You know it in your heart, don’t you? Maud was jealous; she wanted to hurt you. This is what Lancelyn has done to you, through her.”

“Oh, I want to believe you...”

“Hush. It’s time to find him. The sooner we sort this out, the sooner it will be over, and then I’ll make it up to you, Holly, I promise. You do trust me, don’t you?”

Her face was a portrait of resignation. “I believe you, Ben. I want it to be over, too.”

“Come on, then. You’re not too tired, are you, love? Sit quietly. We’ve done this a hundred times.”

He felt her relax at last. She never could resist him. “I’m sorry, Ben. Sorry...”

Long years of conditioning let her slip under Ben’s influence almost too easily. Her face was colourless, etched with anxiety, but he told himself she would be all right.

Ben, kneeling beside the chair, talked her swiftly into a trance. Her head tipped back, her hands curled limply on the tabby cat’s flanks.

“Let your astral body fly free,” Ben whispered. “Look for Lancelyn. He’s drawing you to him. Feel the pull. You are bound so close that he can’t hide from you. Search!”

“I’m flying,” Holly whispered.

“Where are you?”

“Don’t know.”

“Are you in Italy, Holly? Has he gone to the villa?”

Her face furrowed with tension. “Don’t know. Can’t see...”

“Try!”

“Can’t, I’m dizzy.” She gasped and her body jerked. “Help, I’m falling!”

“It’s all right, Holly, you’re safe,” Ben said quickly. “Tell me what you see.”

“Hills. Not Italy. Steep hills... too tired to climb them, I can’t...”

“No need to climb. You can fly.”

“Bracken and stones. It’s cold. Grey granite. There’s a house in the mist.”

“Describe it.”

“On its own... on a hillside. Great walls and towers, a chapel with tall windows...”

Ben was trembling. “Are there -” He nearly said “stone lions”, but did not want to plant ideas in her head. “Are there statues at the front door?”

“I can’t see.” She groaned. “It hurts. Being pushed away.”

“Try! Go on, Holly, closer.” Ben’s voice grew more urgent. “You must! Are there - I mean, what shape are the windows, is there water nearby, what?”

He heard the door open, glanced round in irritation. Katerina came in and said, “What are you doing?”

He waved at her to be quiet.

“She’s too tired for this, Benedict. You’ll make her ill.”

Taking no notice, Ben persisted, “Can you see statues?”

“Two stone lions.”

“Yes!” he whispered, triumphant. “And?”

“Pointed windows with stained glass. A stream below.” Her back arched with pain. Sam stood up and began to knead her lap with his paws; Ben impatiently shoved him onto the floor.

“Yes, and do you see the name of the house?”

“Grey Crags.”

“Oh my God,” Ben clutched her hands, breathing fast. “All right, old girl, steady. Can you get inside? Is Lancelyn there?”

“Think so. Can’t get in. Barriers...”

“Push through! He’s placed them to stop you but you can break through. Come on, Holly!”

She writhed and grunted, as if in childbirth. “Can’t...”

Katerina knelt on other side of the chair, watching Holly intently.

“You must!”

She gave a short scream. Her eyes opened wide, bloodshot and straining. “Coloured light everywhere. There’s green and blue... And so much red, splashed over the room like blood. He’s coming...” Her breathing grew quick and shallow. Her face drained to a deadly blue-white.

Katerina said softly, “Wake her, Ben.”

Benedict ignored her. “Holly! Is it Lancelyn?”

Holly was fighting for every breath. “Yes - And three figures, burning so bright I can’t look - they’ve seen me!”

Katerina reached across Holly and gripped Ben’s arm. “Bring her out!”

He pulled free, annoyed by the pain. “Hold your ground. Steady now. They can’t hurt you. What are they?”

Between high-pitched shallow breaths, she gasped, “They - they’re bringing the Dark Bride. They are metamorphosis. Lancelyn’s here, he’s laughing at me... reaching for me... Help!”

“You’re all right! Hang on.”

A searing pain struck Ben in the scalp, making him yelp. The bloody cat! It had launched itself at his head, claws unsheathed, as if to protect its mistress. Cursing, he struck it away, feeling scraps of his skin torn out as it leapt to the floor.

In that moment, he lost Holly.

“For heaven’s sake, bring her out!” Katerina snapped.

“All right, keep calm. Lancelyn can’t hurt you, Holly. You’re leaving now; gently drifting away and coming back to me.”

“I can’t -”

“You’re calm. You’re safe.”

“No, can’t escape!”

Ben was scared now. “Yes, you can! Come on, break free!”

Holly struggled, fluttering on the edge of life. Then, with a scream that seemed to tear her apart, she jerked upwards, convulsed, and lay still.

“All right, I’m going to wake you now.” He could hardly keep his voice level. “You’re home and safe. Wake up, Holly.”

Nothing happened.

In panic he seized her wrist, found a mouse-rapid pulse. He repeated the words, trying to ease her home. At last her eyes halfopened. Her eyelids flickered heavily over slits that gleamed red with blood, with the lingering nightmare-trance. She heaved in a long, laboured breath.

“Relax now,” he said. “How do you feel?”

No answer. She only stared at him from a web of helpless pain. Ben had a sudden, terrible fear that she would never speak again, that he’d pushed her so deep into the abyss that she’d never claw her way out. Then he thought,
But this is Lancelyn’s doing. By God, I’ll find him and make him pay!

He touched her cheek, suddenly aware he was bathed in sweat. “You saw Lancelyn,” he said in a low voice. “He’s at Grey Crags, our parents’ home. Now tell me exactly what you saw.”

Still no reply. Katerina said, “For pity’s sake, leave her alone. Anyone could see she was in no state for this. What have you done?”

“She’s tired, that’s all.” But Holly began to tremble, her gaze swivelling over the ceiling. Filled with alarm, Ben looked up.

And there was a thunderous shuddering of the air, like wings beating in the attic, huge birds breaking through from another dimension. Even Katerina looked petrified. The room dissolved in a harlequin whirl of black and grey. Three shining apparitions rushed past like ribbons of light, gone as fast as they appeared. Reality fell back into place.

In the stillness that followed, Katerina said, “Lancelyn knows you’ve found him. That was a warning.”

Ben, overwrought and unable to accept that he’d harmed Holly, spoke into her face. “Describe the nature of the enemy! What is the ‘Dark Bride’? Don’t be afraid; I won’t let him near you, but you must explain what you saw!”

Holly fixed him again with a deathly stare as if gazing from the pits of hell. At last she spoke. Her tone, to his amazement, was conversational; but the voice and the words were not her own.

“Why not come and find out for yourself, little brother? I’ve been waiting patiently for weeks for you to guess where I am. Took long enough - but I’m ready when you are.”

* * *

Karl had talked to Katerina and Simon for a while, but now he wanted time alone to think.

He went to the study, too preoccupied to sense anyone inside. Opening the door, he was startled to see two figures on the floor. One was Ilona; the other, with his back to Karl, his black hair a mess, was Andreas. He lay beside Ilona with her wrist at his mouth. Feeding on her.

With anyone else, Karl would simply have closed the door and walked away. But his daughter’s presence in the scene clawed away his usual detachment.

“What the hell are you doing?” said Karl.

Ilona saw him first. She shook Andreas, wrenched her wrist out of his grasp. “What does it look like?” she said coolly.

She rose to her feet like a cat, utterly unembarrassed, taking time to smooth her crumpled dress. Andreas stood slowly and leaned on the edge of the desk. His shirt was ripped and bloodstained, hanging off his shoulders. His chest and neck were ploughed with wounds, scratches, bruises. He stared unsteadily at Karl under half-closed lids.

Karl felt like striking him. “How could you, Andrei?” he said quietly.

A look of defiance came to his face. “It’s nothing she hasn’t done with a thousand other men, human or vampire.”

“But she’s still my daughter.” His voice was very low, but Andreas seemed to perceive something terrible in Karl’s face, a frozen blood-lake of ancient wounds and sorrows. He blinked and drew away.

“Karl, for God’s sake - I didn’t do her any harm. I’m the one who got torn to pieces.”