The Dark Arts of Blood (70 page)

Fadiya held up a plain rucksack. “I came to take back the
sakakin
to Bayt-al-Zuhur. I have all thirty now; Stefan gave up the last one without argument. I’ll take them home, as Kurgara asked, away from covetous human eyes.”

“Thank you. It’s for the best. Their potency may take a long time to fade.”

“I know you disapprove,” said Fadiya, “but the vampires of Bayt-al-Zuhur will not give up their
Istilqa
without a struggle. Kurgara won’t let them make a new bone well, so we’ll have to find a different way in the end… but not yet.”

“How is he?”

“Recovering,” said Fadiya with a smile. Her manner was dignified, even friendly. “We told everyone what happened, and they have accepted him for who he is. They still revere us as their protectors. It will take time to adjust, but we won’t abandon them.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. I can’t be sorry that I shattered your way of life, because living on illusions is good for no one.”

“At times I hated you,” said Fadiya. “Now, though, I’m glad it’s over. You set him free. We walk together under the stars every night. They say that the desert is a good place to strip back the soul to its essence.”

Fadiya was silent then because Emil appeared on stage, dancing his own magnificent solo as the hero, torn between his virtuous wife and his dark lover. She watched with such blatant rapture that Violette felt a touch of sympathy. She thought,
You claim that you loved him. Now do you see the person whom you betrayed and so nearly destroyed?

“Would you pass on my apologies?” Fadiya murmured. “I hope in time he’ll remember the blissful times we had, and not the bad.”

Emil finished his scene and leapt into the wings: radiating exuberance. Seeing Fadiya, his energy vanished like a doused fire.

She was already turning to walk away, giving one brief glance over her shoulder as she dissolved into the Crystal Ring.

Emil stared into the shadows after her, transfixed.

“What did she want?” he asked.

“She came to fetch something, that’s all,” said Violette. “She asked me to say that she’s sorry and hopes you’ll remember her more kindly one day.”

Emil took a couple of steps away. Violette left him to compose himself. She saw him push back his hair and blot his eyelashes, smudging his stage make-up.

“I want to forgive her,” he said, “but I can’t.”

“Emil, I’m to blame for all this; I attract trouble. You became a pawn in the middle, regardless of my efforts to keep you safe. You know the truth now. I am a vampire. So are Karl and Charlotte, Stefan and Fadiya. Can you still work with me, knowing this? After what you’ve been through?”

“I had this conversation with Karl,” he said. “I think it’s best not to talk of it any more.”

“You certainly won’t
mention
it to anyone else. But I’d like to talk, just this once. Can you live with what you know, and keep it secret?”

“I intend to try, madame.” He folded his arms, looking everywhere but into her eyes.

“When humans see through the veil, they lose their grip on sanity. They are never the same again.”

“I know. But I’m learning to live with it. As long as I’m not slain in my bed for knowing too much about the hidden world, I will cope.”

“You have a brave spirit.” She stopped, waiting patiently until he finally met her gaze. “Emil, you know we were all human once. I’ve never suggested this to any dancer before, but has it crossed your mind how it would feel to be one of us? Changeless, virtually immortal? Your youth and talents would never fade. It is a great risk… but if you wanted this, I can arrange it.”

He let his hands drop to his sides and stared at her as if his eyes would catch fire.

“No!” he said fiercely. “No, madame. I’ve achieved my skill through human hard work, not supernatural intervention. I’m proud of that. What, you’re suggesting I become a blood-drinking demon like Fadiya? It’s not a price worth paying!”

“You seem to have rather a low opinion of vampires.” Violette smiled coolly.

“Not you. You’re different.”

“No, I’m not. We are far from perfect, but we’re not all bad.”

“I appreciate that, but still – to survive by drinking blood? Unthinkable. I’d rather achieve all I can by my own efforts and grow old with grace.”

“Thank you for your candid answer.” She went on probing him with her higher senses. Of course he was full of conflict. How could he not be? “I’m relieved, to be honest. The transformation is not easy, and I would hate to take such a risk with your life. In a few years, though, you might feel differently.”

“I’ve seen through the veil, seen things no human should see,” he said softly. “I can’t contemplate becoming what you are. But in twenty years?”

He fell quiet, his face tightening into severe lines. She asked, “What?”

“Mikhail. I found him drowning his sorrows at turning forty. When my strength starts to fail, when I look in the mirror and find grey hairs, while you remain the same, still gazing at me with those glorious eyes, eternally beautiful like a painting? I don’t know how I’ll feel then. Perhaps I’ll go mad. Again.”

“It’s not an easy choice,” she said. “If you do change your mind, what will be at stake? Your principles, your pride?”

“And my very life.”

“Mm. Well, there’s no hurry to decide. Today, and for a long time yet, we can go on as we are. But can you bear to stay with me, knowing the truth? Do you feel the same magic when we dance?”

“Yes. More than ever. You have no idea how determined I am.”

“Oh, I’m seeing more of that every day. I want you as my partner, always.”

His posture relaxed. He dipped his head, almost in a bow.

“That’s all I want in the world, madame. And I give you my word, on my brother’s life, that I will respect your rules. And it won’t be difficult.”

“No?”

“No, because it’s easier to accept that you and I will never be lovers than it would be to lose our partnership. There are nobler goals in this world than taking a lover, seducing your heart’s desire or even marrying her. Given a choice between my hopeless yearning for you, Madame Violette, and my passion for eternal fame – I chose fame.”

His sincere tone, spiced with self-mockery, made her laugh out loud.

“Profound, Emil,” she said. “Welcome back.”

* * *

By sheer hard work with a good dash of panic, Violette’s new theatre opened on time. This was not the first time she’d performed these ballets, but the first time in her own domain was magical.

Taking her curtain calls to a storm of applause and bouquets afterwards, it struck her that this was the happiest night of her life. That she was actually
happy
.

Emil had been astonishing. No one outside their circle would begin to guess what had happened to them. He was the gleaming golden prince again, the perfect foil to her ineffably beautiful ice maiden. And he, too, was back in his true element.

Long may this last
, she thought, her hand resting on his as if they were a king and queen before their court. Somewhere in the darkness, Amy Temple and Karl were capturing everything on film.

A hundred years from now, people may look at our efforts and smile
, she thought.
I only hope they smile in pleasure, not disdain.

Backstage, amid the bustle of post-performance activity, Violette was amused to see Emil leaning against a wall near his dressing room, a towel slung around his neck, cheerfully shaking his head as Stefan made a blatant attempt to flirt with him. As an excuse to listen, she paused by a hamper and rested each foot in turn on the lid to untie her pointe shoes.

“Are you absolutely
sure
you only like women? Couldn’t you be persuaded to be a little more… adventurous?”

“I really think not,” Emil said with good humour. “To be frank, my friend, I have decided to put my art before all other… distractions. There are things in life greater than mere love and desire. That’s the path I’ve chosen.”

Violette smiled to herself. She doubted his vow of celibacy would last long. She felt sorry for those women whose hearts he would break along the way, but as long as she had her ideal partner once more, she was content.

“What a shame,” said Stefan. His blue eyes were alight with mischief. “If you change your mind…”

“Stefan, leave him alone,” said Charlotte. She slid up to him and put her hand through his arm, ushering him away. “You’re outrageous. Emil, he’s only teasing.”

“I know,” said Emil, giving a haughty smirk as he stepped into his dressing room and shut the door.

Despite Charlotte’s scolding tone, Violette met her gaze and they shared a moment of amusement. Stefan was as roguish as ever. Perhaps his eyes were a little too bright. He wore a silk scarf, she knew, to conceal the bright red scar across his throat. The wounds were slow to heal.

“Believe me, I meant it,” Stefan told Charlotte, looking at the closed door. “He’s a challenge. And I think he likes me.”

“Everyone likes you,” said Charlotte. “That’s why you get away with anything. But
no feasting on Violette’s dancers
, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!”

Violette smiled pointedly at him as she walked past, a look that said,
No, you had better not
. In the doorway to her dressing room, she turned to look back at them with affection.

“Good,” Charlotte said gently, “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you coming back to life, my dear friend.”

Stefan kissed her cheek. “You endured my selfishness, my tantrums, my self-centred death wish, everything. I can’t express how much I regret my behaviour, or how deeply I value your patience. I love you, Charlotte.”

“You are insufferably annoying at times. That’s true. But you were grieving. All the thanks we want is for you to live.”

“I wasn’t sure I could,” Stefan said quietly into the middle distance. “Was Karl actually going to hack off my head, or did I dream it?”

“Um,” Charlotte said faintly. “Those bone-knives bring terrible dreams…”

“Oh, the
Istilqa
sleep was blissful,” said Stefan. “Each time I woke, I cut myself again to return to that oblivion… hoping it would last forever. Don’t frown at me: I’ve no desire ever to try again. I see how addictive it could be.”

“A false comfort.”

“Yes. Really, there is no comfort. It’s so strange. I keep looking around for Niklas at my elbow, but there’s no one there.”

“You’re not alone. We’re here, all your friends.”

“I must admit, it was fun helping Karl with that movie scene,” said Stefan. “Plotting together. I thought the one thing I needed was revenge on Reiniger, and then I could die. But you wouldn’t let me. When I came back to myself, I realised… that perhaps I can survive after all. If my friends would go to such lengths to save me, who am I to argue?”

* * *

In the main auditorium, in an alcove high up in one wall, there sat an urn containing Niklas’s remains.

Violette had been most unhappy that Stefan had brought the body into her house. Initially, she’d feared he was unhinged enough to carry his twin around forever, like some ghastly decomposing doll. But once the corpse had shrunk and crumbled, Stefan quietly surrendered Niklas to the urn.

Violette had offered to display the vessel in pride of place, hoping to discourage any urge he had to take it everywhere. To her surprise, he’d readily agreed. That was a good sign. It meant he knew he must let his brother go.

She felt a touch ashamed, now, for crediting Stefan with so little wisdom.

Anyone looking up from their theatre seat might notice a large porcelain jar of blue and gilt in the Sèvres style. If they used opera glasses to look more closely, they would see that the vessel was hand-decorated with a portrait of a smiling young man, an angel in blue satin and white lace.

Violette would never explain to anyone why it was there. For as long as the Ballet Lenoir remained in Lucerne, people would look, and wonder.

* * *

Long after the ballet and the after-show party were over, Karl and Charlotte walked alone along the snowline where the steep meadows met the Alps. A crescent moon hung above the peaks. Karl tasted the blood of a recent hunt on his tongue, felt Charlotte’s affectionate presence close by his side, and was content.

“You’ve often told me there must be unknown circles of vampires, hidden from us,” she said. “And we found one. Or rather, they found us, which is disturbing.”

“I’m sure there are others,” said Karl. “There must be. If Ilona and Pierre don’t return from their travels before the year’s end, I may start to worry.”

“I’d be more concerned for the vampires they meet,” she said with a soft laugh.

They walked in easy silence for a while.

“Karl?” she asked at last. “You never answered Stefan’s question. If I were
fully
dead, whatever that means for us – let’s say beheaded – would you react like Kristian and slaughter scores of humans to bring me back?”

Karl looked up at the stars: delaying tactics to put off the impossible question. “I think that I probably would. Only for you.”

“Well, don’t,” she said softly. “I release you from the obligation to do so. If I did such a horrific thing, you wouldn’t thank me, would you? You’d rather stay dead? Well, so would I.”

“Charlotte, dearest.” He slid his arms around her in a strong embrace. “If you died, I wouldn’t want to exist without you. Will you please desist from being so morbid?”

“We’re vampires. We’re allowed to be morbid. I’ll desist when you answer me.”

“All right. I would hold your lifeless corpse against me, like this, and take us both up into the
Weisskalt
where we could sleep forever.”

“You mean it?” She drew back her head to meet his gaze. “That’s the most weirdly comforting thought… as comforting as anything could be when we’re talking of dying and freezing for eternity.”

He smiled. “It’s the best answer I have. Not to be parted, in life or in death.”

“And if things were the other way round, I would do the same.”

“Ah, love, no. You’d survive without me.”

“You should know better by now than to argue with me about matters of life and death.” Charlotte gave him a long solemn look. “My heart still stops, every time I see you. I’ve tried living without you, and once was enough. We’ll do this for each other. Promise me.”