The Dark Arts of Blood (45 page)

“Yes,” Charlotte said faintly, nodding towards the open doorway. “In there.”

“Emil is in there?”

Violette’s nails dug in, hurting. Charlotte recoiled from her wild expression.

“What? No. It’s Niklas… What about Emil?”

E
mil and Fadiya disembarked from the ship in Algiers. The city looked vast, with salt-white buildings curving around the bay and mounting the hills beyond. Boats crowded the harbour. The streets were hectic with tourists, folk in local dress, French soldiers. Motor cars, buses, cranes loading and unloading ships – naively, he hadn’t expected the city to be so modern, so frantically busy. Emil shaded his eyes, looking up at huge government buildings, law courts, mosques and hotels, monuments, even a casino.

The air was hot, sunlight turning the streets to a misty golden otherworld. In childhood Emil had enjoyed the hot sun on his back, but years working in France and Switzerland had made him used to a temperate climate. The heat was a physical assault.

He felt weak, confused, as if succumbing to sunstroke. Aware that his mind wasn’t functioning normally, he couldn’t break out of the hot, dusty fog. His recollection of the voyage was patchy. The little he remembered filled him with dread.

Hallucinations of the ship capsizing, being dragged under the waves. All mixed up with images of entwining with Fadiya, delirious with lust even as he suffocated beneath her. Fangs stabbing into his throat and all his strength leeching away…

She had sucked blood from his veins. Not for the first time. And there was nothing he could do to stop her. He hadn’t even tried, as if she’d injected him with some intoxicating, deadly narcotic. Fadiya
was
the drug. Now he was completely in her power – and worse, he knew it.

She’d stolen his strength and his willpower, left him in a dizzy trance like an opium haze, with no hope of escape. A far part of his mind was screaming for help, but no one could hear. Fadiya was his only anchor in this alien world.

“Please don’t pass out,” she said sharply. “We mustn’t attract attention.”

“It’s so hot.”

“This isn’t hot.” She laughed. “The
desert
is hot. This is a lovely spring day.”

“Where are we going?” he asked as they climbed a tree-lined avenue of French-colonial architecture. She carried his bag. His mouth was so parched, he could barely speak.

“Towards Al Qasbah,” she said, smiling benignly. “The old citadel. To my friends. It’s not far.”

“I need water.”

“Just a few minutes more. Their house is cool and they’ll give us local clothing so that we blend in. Don’t worry, dearest Emil. I know you’re tired, but this is our new beginning.”

“You drank my blood.”

“My dear, you gave it willingly, out of love,” she replied warmly. “Don’t you remember?”

“You drank my blood!” he rasped. The effort of speaking made his head reel. She caught his arm to steady him.

“I couldn’t help it. It’s a gesture of love, and you are so beautiful.” Her face glowed. The light behind her shone like a bright halo.

“I’m ill. I want to go home.”

“You are home, my love,” she replied. “Your home is where I am. You’re mine and I’m yours. Just a little further and then you can rest.”

She led him past mosques and cafés, churches and noisy markets, into labyrinthine lanes where the newer town gave way to the old. A few minutes, she said, but the walk seemed to take hours. As they climbed steep flights of steps, his sight turned black and he resigned himself to collapsing, perhaps dying in the street. He didn’t even care…

Eventually she knocked on a door in a blank, high wall that seemed to extend for miles, like a prison wall. The small carved door swung open.

Soft voices murmured around him in a language he didn’t understand. A handful of men and women were welcoming Fadiya and Emil inside. He caught an impression of loose garments in shades of blue, green, rose pink. Smiling faces… all as lovely and as sinister as Fadiya herself. There were men and women, some dark-skinned and others pale. He heard a mixture of languages and accents. Snatches of French, Arabic, Italian, German…

They led him through a shaded ante-room into a courtyard with a fountain at the centre. On all four sides there were walkways lined with pillars and elegant arches shaped to recall minarets, upper galleries with doors to inner rooms, only half-seen through masses of foliage. He glimpsed screens of dark wood pierced with intricate patterns, large filigree lamps in the Moroccan style set with jewel colours, striped cushions and rugs. Every surface was tiled in white and blue, heavy with geometric decoration. Plants spilled from containers, filling the space with greenery and fragrant flowers. The cool air rising from the fountain misted their leaves and petals.

Around this area drifted figures in flowing djellabas.

Someone sat him down on a tiled bench and began to fan him. A glass of liquid was held to his lips: sweet mint tea. He drank it so fast he barely tasted it. A woman in red refilled the glass from an elaborate teapot. A black man, dressed in vibrant sky blue, gave him a tray of fruit, cheese and olives.

Sweet, salty, juicy… the tastes of his childhood home.

Where was Fadiya? After a moment his eyes focused and he saw her, kissing all the strangers in turn as if greeting long-lost relatives. They bowed their heads to her. The interplay of grace and colour was hypnotic. He breathed the scent of jasmine.

Emil had never seen a place so peaceful and beautiful. It was like a small palace built inside out: featureless from the outside, with all the rooms facing inwards around an exquisite garden. A
riad
in the most luxurious Moroccan style. There were lemon trees, fig trees, bushes spilling flowers of white, yellow and pale apricot. Figures moved along the galleries above. He saw a passageway leading through to another courtyard. The filtered golden light was enticing, promising a hidden paradise.

“So this is the creature in question?” the black man said in English.

“This is him, Nabil.” Fadiya spoke with pride in her voice. She knelt at Emil’s feet, her hands on his knees. “What do you think? Isn’t he beautiful?”

“Absolutely magnificent,” Nabil replied with a smile. His ebony skin had its own glow, as if brushed with blue iridescence. His eyes shone with powerful serenity, like a painting of a saint looking up to heaven. Like Karl’s eyes. And yet… all Emil felt from the inhabitants was menace.

The contrast of tranquil beauty and peril overwhelmed him. He couldn’t move. Even if he tried to escape, he knew these people would kill him before he reached the outer doors.

They were all vampires.

“He’s famous in the outer world,” she said. “He’s a great dancer.”

“Famous?” Nabil echoed. “Is that not a risk?”

“Yes, but that is the point. Who would care that he’s gone, if he were not valuable?”

Valuable
?

“Fadiya…” He tried to speak, couldn’t form a coherent question.
You brought me here as your lover. Why are you discussing value? Talking as if I were a stranger?

She ignored his plea. Addressing Nabil, she asked, “Is everything ready?”

“As soon as you are, Fadiya.” He gave a small bow. His eyes, when he looked at Emil, gleamed with hunger, or lust. Both. Emil nearly stopped breathing.

“Good. We need to make haste. I posted a letter to her before we left port. When she receives it, she will find us within a day or so. You
must
delay her. Don’t underestimate her: she’s clever, fast and lethal. She is a goddess.”

“Fadiya?” Emil forced the words out, his voice dry as sand. “What the hell is happening? Where are we going?”

“Rest, darling,” she murmured as if to a child. “Sleep in the shade while you can. We have another journey to make, but there’s nothing to worry about. Rest.”

* * *

Violette looked down at Niklas’s body, dry-eyed. Although she didn’t weep, her shock was palpable. As Charlotte repeated Stefan’s story, she stood motionless, a figure carved from quartz.

“This must be connected with Emil,” Violette said eventually. She’d given a short account of his disappearance, shown Karl and Charlotte the letter he’d left. “Fadiya worked for Reiniger. According to Karl, he knew she was a vampire, but he couldn’t or wouldn’t explain why she was with him. Something to do with the
Istilqa
knives? I don’t know.”

“Your precious Emil!” Stefan, seated beside Niklas, sprang to his feet. “He’s run away with his lady friend, that’s all. Niklas is the one who’s dead! Why try to tangle this with your problems? You think my brother is less important than Emil?”

Karl put a hand on Stefan’s arm, but he shook him off.

“Weren’t you listening?” Violette’s voice was low, shaky. “Emil’s lady friend is a vampire.”

“And the bastards who sliced Niklas to pieces were human!” Stefan retorted. “So what?”

“Fadiya knows those bastards,” Violette said with quiet emphasis. “Stefan, I am sorry about your brother, but he is dead, and Emil is still alive and in danger. I must find him. I came to ask for Charlotte and Karl’s help, because I’ve already spent hours searching. He’s gone without trace.”

“Perhaps you should not have forbidden them to see each other,” Stefan said acidly.

“I may not be free of blame, but I was trying to protect him.”

Charlotte parted her lips, hesitating as she wondered what to say first. “We want to help you, of course, but we can’t leave Stefan in this state…”

“Did you try Bergwerkstatt?” Karl spoke over the end of her words. “Reiniger might know where she is. She may know about the bone-knives. She might have given them to him, for all we know.”

“Why?” said Charlotte.

“If we knew that, we could be halfway to solving this puzzle,” said Karl.

“Yes, I tried the house,” said Violette, “but only from the outside. Something stopped me going in: a bad feeling, an aura. I could have burned my way through, but I sensed humans inside and I could tell none was Emil. They wouldn’t hide somewhere so obvious, would they? Fadiya didn’t live there, anyway. She had the room at Hotel Blauensee – unless that was just somewhere to take victims.” Violette sounded contemptuous. “I checked her hotel room, but her belongings had gone. She and Emil are long gone from the town, and probably from Switzerland by now. I couldn’t trace his presence
at all
, so she must be shielding him in some way. I sent Thierry and a handful of others I trust to ask around in case anyone saw them leaving, but there’s no news, nothing. We’ve told everyone else that Emil is ill, but I can’t keep the truth secret much longer. I appreciate that you can’t leave Stefan, but if you three can’t help me, who can?”

She went on staring at Niklas’s waxen face, as if trying to see inside him. Charlotte knew how fiercely independent Violette was. She never asked for help unless she was desperate.

“Well, isn’t this a little hypocritical?” said Stefan. “Charlotte did not
want
to be rescued from Karl. When her brother David tried, the consequences were disastrous, to say the least.”

“When Charlotte made off with
me
–” Violette gave her a pointed look “– no one at all came to my rescue. And Stefan, you know the state I was in after the transformation. You were there.”

“But you recovered.”

“That’s one word for it.” Violette’s eyes were flint, Stefan’s like blue fire in the bloodshot whites. “It was a long, horrifying experience that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. And I don’t trust Fadiya. I don’t care what her intentions are. No vampire is ever good for a human.”

“Or vice versa,” said Stefan. His usually perfect hair was a bird’s nest, damp with tears. Charlotte was afraid they might start fighting, from sheer overcharged emotion.

“I must find Emil,” Violette repeated. “If none of you can help, I’ll go alone.”

“We want to help, of course,” said Karl, now on his feet. “I don’t know whether his disappearance is connected to Reiniger, because he claimed he knew nothing of Fadiya’s motives. And he appeared genuinely shocked when I warned him that Amy was in danger.”

“Godric could have been lying,” said Violette.

“But if he knew, why not ask
her
to help transform him, rather than me?”

“Perhaps she refused, too. Perhaps Godric was angry with her, and that’s why she fled with Emil.”

“Violette, you know full well that she fled because
we
threatened her,” Charlotte put in. “You expected her to obey you when you forbade her to see Emil. She didn’t.”

“I know,” said Violette. “But if Fadiya had an argument with Reiniger, it can’t have helped. But why would she, a vampire, fear him?”

Karl spread a hand to indicate Niklas beneath his white shroud. “Because Reiniger has the power to do this. Not all humans are weaker than us. We should know that by now.”

The dancer gave a reluctant nod. “They hold power over us in many different ways. Violence is one thing, but love is the most dangerous of all.”

Charlotte touched her arm, but Violette, like Stefan, was too brittle to be consoled.

“Dear, you know I want to help,” said Charlotte, “but I can’t leave Stefan like this. I can’t be in two places at once.” She thought of her lamia, and shuddered. “Well, sometimes I can, apparently, but the spectral half of me is malevolent, deaf to reason and completely useless.”