The Dark Arts of Blood (59 page)

“But what would you tell him?”

“That I was invited to stay for a couple of days by one of the dancers. ‘What kidnap, Uncle? I don’t understand. I was staying with a friend who wanted to show me the academy.’ He’d have to believe me.
Then
I can make my escape without arousing his suspicions.” Amy made a small, sour grimace. “Where’s Charlotte? I hoped she’d be back by now. Part of me keeps hoping this will all turn out to be some ghastly misunderstanding.”

Stefan, usually the first to charm and soothe a human guest, remained in the doorway, staring from bruised eyes.

“There was no misunderstanding, believe me,” he said. “I was there when he killed my Niklas and tried to kill me too. When his men attacked both Karl and me. Karl saw him change into something… not what you would call fully human. Do you want to see my wounds?”

“Stefan,” Karl said.

“What? Why shouldn’t she know the truth?”

“I think she knows quite enough already.”

Amy swallowed. “Stefan, there’s no need. I’ve spent hours and days trying to accept that you and Charlotte and Karl are… something other. I won’t pretend you don’t all give me cold shivers sometimes, but then I remind myself that my uncle is hell-bent on turning into something even worse. So I’m stuck. I’ve made a vow that if Uncle turns up, whatever happens, I’ll help Karl and you against him.”

Her reply appeared to surprise Stefan. “Well, you’re a spirited young thing,” he said. “Braver than me.”

She raised her chin. “It’s actually a bit thrilling, being this scared. Part of me hopes he’ll stay away, but part of me just wants it to be over. Come on, Uncle. Make a move.”

The lights flickered. Karl felt the air stir, moving with shadows he couldn’t quite see. A chill went over his neck.

“This waiting is ridiculous,” Stefan muttered. “Nothing’s coming.”

“Believe me, it is,” said Karl. He looked into Stefan’s wild, red-rimmed eyes. Wisps of the Crystal Ring swirled between them, tuning the air cold like a snow-flurry. Distant but clear, he sensed a speck of energy moving towards them. He couldn’t tell what it was, but his deeper senses told him that it was hunting him, locked on to him like an arrow in flight.

Stefan’s face dropped. He looked waxen with shock.

“You sense it?” Karl said quietly. “We’ve nothing to use against it but the camera.”

“Miss Temple, I suggest you run for your life,” Stefan said, still staring into Karl’s eyes. “Go.”

“Then, if it pursues her, we can’t protect her.”

“I’m not leaving,” Amy spoke briskly. “If something’s going to happen, do you think I want to be outside on my own? Told you, I’m staying.” She put on a sweater that she’d left over the back of a chair. “It’s gone awfully cold. Switch more lights on.”

She went to the far window, where her cine-camera stood on its tripod, hidden behind the heavy curtains.

“You do know that no phantom ever makes an appearance when the lights are on?” Stefan exclaimed.

“But if we’re going to film anything, we need as much light as possible.” She bent to look through the viewfinder. “This covers most of the room, but I can hand-hold it if necessary. Oh,
please
let something happen!”

“Be careful what you wish for,” said Stefan.

“But if it’s my uncle, won’t he knock on the front door? What will you do, just… let him in?”

Karl didn’t answer. The amorphous shape that drew gradually closer in his mind’s eye would not need to knock. No barrier would stop it.

“You know the camera makes quite a noise? Uncle will hear it. The curtains might muffle it a bit.”

“I’ll put on a gramophone record,” said Stefan. “Let’s have the jolliest song I can find, just to brighten the mood a little.”

“Will one of you
please
put the main light on?” Her voice trembled.

Karl flicked a switch to illuminate the central electric chandelier that they rarely used. The room stayed unnaturally gloomy and the air shivered. Again the Crystal Ring intruded into the room, strongly this time, like a column of whirling ice feathers hardly three feet from him.

It left behind a solid figure.

Not Godric Reiniger, but Charlotte.

She stood caught in the halo of dissipating ice-flakes as if veiled in light. So beautiful, but so pallid, like an ethereal spirit of winter. Again Karl had to study her carefully to be sure. This time he took only a moment to see the truth.

Charlotte’s cold
doppelgänger
slid her hands up on to his shoulders and tilted her mouth towards his.

“Karl, I’m back. Aren’t you going to warm me?”

K
arl heard the camera begin to roll, a steady whirr in the background. Amy was hidden behind the curtains and Stefan had retreated to the bedroom: heaven knew how they’d moved so fast. Dance music played on the gramophone, jaunty and incongruous.

He was effectively alone with the ghost-Charlotte, who had so completely fooled him the first time. As she touched him, her skin and gorgeous amethyst eyes and full, rosy mouth seemed a perfect imitation. The silk of her dress, the firmness of her body felt real enough… but he caught the tell-tale cold vapour rising from her, the faint metallic smell that warned of danger.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” she murmured.

She kissed him. He wanted to push her away but instead he let her, giving himself time.

A dozen thoughts whirled through his mind, all holding different shades of horror. If this being truly believed she
was
Charlotte, how could he reject her? If she were some mockery, a spectral echo conjured by the Crystal Ring – she was still too much like the real woman for him to contemplate destroying her. In any case, how could you destroy a spirit? And if he succeeded – he might be destroying an actual aspect of Charlotte, temporarily divided. If he did so, he might kill
her
.

But something was different. Before, her double’s aura had struck him as chilly but soft, like rain. Now it felt heavy, focused, intense… A horrible possibility formed in his mind. He had no way to be certain. And he had only two more minutes before Amy’s film reel ran out.

“You could show more enthusiasm.” She pulled back, smiling. “I have waited so long for this, beautiful Karl…”

Then he knew.

When she leaned in again, he returned her kiss with enthusiasm, feigning passion as best he could. He shut his eyes, shut his mind. She pushed him back into the wall, solid, heavy, almost muscular. Even her breath was tainted with bitterness.

Still he forced himself to continue. Her hands went everywhere, down his back, between his thighs. Oh, very different. He pulled her away from the wall and edged her towards the middle of the room. He groaned, to cover the whirr of the camera rolling.

“That’s better,” the
doppelgänger
gasped into his neck. Its breath was heavy and fast, its groin pressing hard into his. “I think we need fewer clothes, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” said Karl. He drew back, holding her at arm’s length. He held her with his eyes, pouring all the supernatural glamour he possessed into her. “One moment.”

He set the gramophone playing again – Schumann, this time – and went into the bedroom. Beneath the chandelier’s glow, the double began to remove her clothing. Dress, slip, everything. She turned her head a little, as if she heard something behind the curtains, only to dismiss it. Too eager for what was to come.

“What’s happening?” Stefan whispered urgently, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.

“It’s not Charlotte. I cannot do this,” said Karl. He caught his breath, rubbed his temple with the heel of one hand. They spoke rapidly, voices very low. “Truly, I cannot follow this to the end.”

By now the first reel must have run its course. He knew Amy had mastered the art of loading a new one very fast. Karl hoped he was giving her enough time to do so, that her presence would not be discovered.

“And this apparition wants the pleasure of your body?” Stefan’s voice was full of savage amusement. “But if that gains us what we need? It’s not like you to shirk from anything.”

“Danger is one thing. This is entirely different.”

“If it’s only a shade of Charlotte, so what? No harm done. But if…”

“It’s not her. It’s far worse. As bad as it could be.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s someone else… I believe it’s
him
. And I have no time to wonder
how
he has done this.”

“But this is exactly what we need.” Stefan’s blue eyes shone with fire: mischief, twisted into ravenous insanity. “This is even better than we imagined! Give the apparition what it wants. Just get it over with.”

“I swear, I cannot.”

Stefan grabbed Karl by the wrists. “Oh, but I can. Continue the performance, get the creature in here, and I’ll take over. Amy might need to move the camera a little way, that’s all. It will be my pleasure.”

“Karl?” said the false Charlotte, so near the door she made him start. She was naked now, shimmering like a goddess. Over her shoulder he saw Amy edge into view, now holding the camera in both hands. “What are you doing?”

“Preparing the bedroom. We’ll be more comfortable in here.”

He flung off his tie and collar, unfastened his shirt, seized her, let his mouth travel hungrily all over her jaw and neck and shoulders. He bit her without drawing blood, making her gasp. Her flesh was cold and sour. All the time he held her in full view of the camera’s glinting lens.

Dreading to think what Amy was seeing or thinking.

Never mind that.

He steered the lamia towards the bed.

“If an intruder appears, no matter who or what it is, we’ll film everything.”
That was the plan they’d made.
“Whatever happens, keep filming.”

“Yes, you have waited so long,” Karl breathed into her ear. “Look, our friend is here. He wants you too. Both of us, is that not everything you desire?”

“Oh God, yes.” The creature ground itself against his leg, all too hard and solid. Its hands reached into his trousers and began to undo buttons. “There is not an inch of you I won’t explore with my tongue. You
and
Stefan, how wonderful.”

Inside the room, lights flared as Karl flicked switches. As he released the
doppelgänger
, Stefan took over, pushing her on to the bed, covering the pale wide-eyed face with kisses.

Stefan would go through with this, Karl knew.

Karl was fastidious: Stefan most decidedly was not. He would cheerfully ravish this individual senseless. Ghost, demon, impostor: whatever it was, he didn’t care. Karl saw the camera lens just beyond the door frame. Amy was intent on capturing everything. Regardless of her feelings about the scene before her, she didn’t flinch. He checked again that the false Charlotte had not noticed the camera.

But the lamia was on her back, her view obscured by Stefan, apparently too enraptured to notice. Karl still couldn’t grasp the discord between the spectre’s appearance and how it behaved and tasted and felt to the touch… He couldn’t accept the impossible truth.

“Karl,” said the apparition, reaching past Stefan’s shoulder and clutching thin air. “Join us.”

“Would you like to play the man?” said Stefan, breathless. “Go on, get on top! You can do anything, everything you want. Perhaps you’d like my brother to join in, too…”

With that, Stefan rolled, lifting the naked double on top of him. He did so with some force, and the false Charlotte overbalanced, collapsing on to the other side of the bed.

Straight on to the remains of Niklas’s corpse.

Then the Charlotte-illusion collapsed, evaporating. In its place, Godric Reiniger’s downy, naked form crouched inelegantly, motionless, staring into the sunken face of Niklas. Abruptly he began to scrabble in horror like an animal trying to escape a trap. He uttered a deep, blood-chilling scream. Then slipped down on to the floor on the far side of the bed, and vanished.

* * *

Violette struggled upwards. Her awkward scramble through the debris was closer to swimming than climbing. She made painfully slow progress as she writhed her way through the mass of rubble, rising as smaller particles shifted and settled beneath her. Bone and rock and dust. With every few feet she gained, the heap would shift and threaten to bury her again.

With her left hand she dragged Zruvan upwards with her.

He did nothing to help himself. His weight wasn’t as great as his height would suggest, but enough to make her escape nearly impossible. She clung to his arm through his sleeve and hauled. Scrabble upwards, haul, slip back. Over and over again. Stones and sand rained on her head.

She reached out for Raqia but the two realms were already entwined. She had nowhere else to go. There was a dot of light above and she saw heads in silhouette staring down into the well. Zruvan’s guards.

At last Violette reached the top of the pile. The entrance to the well was still far above her head. The Bone Well’s heat rushed upwards around her like a hot wind escaping through the narrow flue.

She and Zruvan both lay sprawled on top of the heap, exhausted, spreadeagled as if on quicksand. His staff was lost, robes torn, skull helmet askew. She saw glimpses of smooth brown flesh.