The Dark Blood of Poppies (36 page)

The horror of this transformation terrified Karl more than any physical threat. He had a nebulous thought:
What if the Crystal Ring can do this to any of us?

“As you wish,” he said evenly. “I shall consider what you’ve said.”

Returning Cesare’s gelid stare with a smile, Karl stepped into the Ring and went in search of his daughter.

* * *

The Bierkeller was a sweltering mass of bodies, noise and laughter, stewing in smoke and lager-yellow light. Werner was already drunk, but not too drunk to be brought up short by the sight of an incredibly beautiful woman sitting alone.

He’d deserted his student friends, sick of arguing politics with them, frustrated by their shallow refusal to listen. Intellectuals, they fancied themselves: not an idea between them. It broke Werner’s young heart to see what was happening to Germany. Crushed by the Treaty of Versailles, lands and rights confiscated, inflation running wild, while incompetent bureaucrats floundered and squabbled. Werner couldn’t bear to see his mother working herself to death to put a loaf of bread on the table. He wanted better for his ruined country… wanted more out of life.

Drunkenness gave the illusion of knowing all the answers; but he knew he’d wake tomorrow still in despair, and that made him want to drown his frustration in more beer… or in a woman’s arms.

He wished he were not still a virgin, at eighteen. Girls liked him, but his mother had instilled him with the fear of God and he always backed away. He was ready now, but he felt so awkward. This angel couldn’t possibly want him, or even notice…

She’d seen him! Werner froze, unable to believe his luck when she gestured with an unlit cigarette. Her stare was a magnet. As he wove towards her around lakes of spilled beer and damp sawdust, the cacophony of voices and music receded.

“May – may I join you,
Fräulein
?”

She nodded at the empty stool opposite, leaned forward for him to light her cigarette. He ordered drinks, but noticed she didn’t touch the red wine she’d asked for. And her cigarette in its long holder was a mere accessory; she only mouthed the smoke before expelling it. The action was unutterably erotic.

Over her shoulder, Werner saw his friends – five flushed, raucous youths sitting a few tables away – giving him jealous looks and crudely suggestive signals. He ignored them.

Werner was shaking. He hoped she could not smell his sweat.

Her name, she said, was Ilona.

While they talked about nothing in particular, he could not take his eyes off her mouth. Deepest red, like her dress and her hair, her lips were dark petals against her shell-pale skin. The girls he knew – his sisters’ friends – were attractive enough in a merry, rosy way, but this woman was different, as quiet and sure as an arrow.

“Are you from Austria?” he asked.

“Vienna,” she replied. “A long time ago.”

“I recognise the accent!” he said triumphantly. “You should be in a grand hotel with marble pillars and ferns, not this pigsty. You’re too beautiful for this.”

“Aren’t we all? In our own minds, at least.”

Ilona, he decided, was strange. She wasn’t flirty, but caustic and distant. It never crossed his uncluttered mind that he might secure her services for money. He tried to act like a man about town making a heroic effort to seduce a movie star.

Soon he found her drawing out all his frustrations and dreams, listening as if he were the only man in the room – not shouting him down as his so-called friends did.

“And how would you change things?” she asked. “What would you do?”

Her interest was intoxicating.

“We need a good, strong leader, to kick this country’s backside and give us a future. I want my mother to have a beautiful house and servants, my sisters to marry successful men, their children to have a future. We Germans need our pride back!”

Ilona listened, leaning forward on the table, her chin resting on her diamond-encircled forearms, her eyes like black tulips. He stared at her luscious mouth, entranced by the tips of her teeth. He was slurring his words, couldn’t help it.
God in heaven, I must have her or die!

Werner was in full flow when they were interrupted. A man appeared from the crowd and sat beside Ilona without a word of explanation. Werner went rigid, would have hit the stranger if he’d been less drunk.

The intruder gave him a glance, then turned to Ilona as if he didn’t exist.

“What are you doing?” His tone was lightly quizzical. Ilona seemed annoyed.

“What does it look like? I don’t know what you want, Karl, but go away.”

“You asked me to follow you.”

“To get you out of Holdenstein before Cesare lost his temper, that’s all. I’ve nothing to say to you. I said it all in Boston, I believe.”

Werner witnessed this exchange, outraged but powerless.
If this swine ruins my chance with her…
Then he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. Only by observing the man did he realise how extraordinary Ilona was – because Karl was the same. Luminous, elegant, darkly mesmeric.

That was why he couldn’t find his voice to protest.

“I disagree,” said Karl. “I’m sure you have a great deal to tell me.”

“I’ve already told you too much.”

Karl touched her upper arm with blatant affection. Werner was in despair.

“What has Violette done to you, to make you work for Cesare? I thought you despised him.”

“I do,” Ilona said crisply. “But when it comes to Violette, I happen to believe he’s right.”

Werner, hearing the words without understanding what they meant, rose unsteadily to his feet. “Get lost, sir. The lady is with me.” He lunged at Karl across the table, only for Ilona to stop his fist in mid-air.

It was like hitting a wall. He sat down in shock. How could such a slender hand be so strong? “Don’t,” she said, pressing his hand onto the table. Her fingernails pricked his skin, as if to hold him there.

Karl’s only reaction was a look of faint disdain. Werner thought,
Who the hell does he think he is?

“He’s perfect, isn’t he?” Ilona said to Karl. “Young, strong, idealistic, handsome, a little naive. I have a very good eye.”

“And Cesare wants them for Pierre?” Karl’s eyebrows lifted.

“What else?” Ilona said smoothly.

“You tell me.”

“What do you want me to do? Are you going to follow me about trying to save me from myself? Do you want to protect this young man from me? I don’t think he’ll thank you.”

“Do what you will.” Karl stood as he spoke. “I’ve never interfered in your affairs. But I hate to see you being used.”

“I’m not! How dare you?”

“Cesare is using you. I never thought you’d allow that to happen.” Karl inclined his head with cool politeness, and walked away. Werner watched him, but within seconds he’d vanished among the revellers.

The woman was distracted, her face hard. Werner was so distressed at this exquisite creature being almost within his grasp, only to be torn away, he forgot his manners.

“Who was he?” he demanded. “Your husband? Brother?”

Her attention swung back to him.

“No,” she snapped. “He’s my father.”

“You mean… your priest?”

She started to laugh. He added defensively, “Well, he was hardly older than you!”

“No, he really is my father.”

An obvious lie. Werner, agitated and aroused, had no idea how to proceed. “But what was he saying to you, what did he mean?”

“Nothing. Forget him.” As she looked into his eyes, he felt something dimming and slipping away inside his mind. His train of thought evaporated. Her eyes were so softly moist, and she was still laughing…

“Can I share the joke?” he said, clasping her hand.

“One day. Don’t look so worried. You are a dear boy.” She tilted her face towards his, and with an immense rush of excitement, he knew that she was his. He ached to taste her mouth, her neck, her breasts… to leave boyhood behind.

“Now,” she said, “are you ready to take me home?”

* * *

Alone, Charlotte tried to stop worrying about Karl.

Cesare, another Kristian? She couldn’t believe it. But to frighten Stefan, of all people, Cesare must have gained
some
form of sinister influence…

She went out to hunt, losing herself in a river of fire and rubies that reminded her, with overwhelming intensity, how very far she’d come from being mortal.

Arriving home, two hours after midnight, she sensed someone in the house. A whispering, unseen presence, a column of dust.

“Stefan?”

She lit an oil lamp and replaced the stained-glass shade. In the dragonfly scatter of colours, she saw a tall golden shape hovering. Then he materialised fully and gazed at her with terrifying eyes. Cat’s eyes of pale gold flame.

Charlotte caught her breath like a human. She took in the bright hair and handsome face of a gilded statue from Greek legend. And when she realised who he was – as if she could forget – her fear surged.

“Don’t look so horrified,” said Simon. “I’m here to talk.”

“Karl will be back soon,” she managed to say.

“Not too soon, I hope.” Simon smiled. “May I sit down?”

“Can I stop you?”

“Don’t be unfriendly.” He went to the sofa uninvited, but Charlotte stayed on her feet. Somehow she managed to gather herself.

“The last time I saw you,” she said, “you made strenuous efforts to kill Karl and most of our friends.”

The fallen angel shook his head. His appearance was breathtaking, and the worst thing was that he reminded her of her brother, David. A man of openness and decency.

“Yes, we had quite a fight, didn’t we?” he said without shame. “Especially Karl and I. And yet you survived, for which you earned my admiration. Can you accept my apologies? Let bygones be bygones, as humans say?”

Charlotte gaped at him.

“You came to apologise? It’s hard to forget that you starved Karl close to death and tricked him into attacking Stefan and me. As for Violette –”

His handsome face showed no contrition. “Charlotte, my dear, it wasn’t personal. We did what was necessary.”

“Cruel to be kind?” She lit more lamps. Jewel-colours flared and overlapped, but no amount of light could exorcise this demon.

“Quite. You’re so lovely in your tawny silk and lace. You and Karl are both so beautiful. You could have such power if…”

She took a few steps towards him, as on a tightrope.

“If we come with you?”

His eyes were all colours of the rainbow. “Yes, as lovers, friends, helpers, everything.”

She swallowed. “What happened to Fyodor and Rasmila?”

“We parted, as I’m sure Karl told you. And doubtless you know that I’ve joined Cesare and John at Schloss Holdenstein? However…”

She hadn’t known, but she believed him. Her imagination seized on dreadful images: Karl arriving at the castle, Simon and Cesare ambushing him… She pushed her anxiety away. If she pleaded to know where Karl was, that would only give Simon more power.

“What’s wrong?” she said. “Aren’t John and Cesare good enough for you?”

“Oh, they are useful, but they could never be lovers. They’re immortal monks, with the sensuality of sackcloth. I need someone warmer. I need you.”

“Why?” she whispered. She felt as if she were falling into his eyes.

“You know Violette is our enemy. You won’t admit it, but you
know
.” His words made her shiver. “We must join forces against her. I know Karl refused, but I’m giving you both a second chance. Join us, or…”

“What? Are you threatening us?”

“I don’t need to. If you cling to Lilith, she will destroy you.” Simon extended a hand. “Come and sit with me, Charlotte.”

She resisted, but her own body betrayed her, pulling her towards him with threads of desire.

“I don’t believe you’re an angel,” she said, an inch away from his fingertips. “To imagine that God has nothing more important to think about than the affairs of men – or vampires – is a childish construct. But it must be a powerful thought-current in the Crystal Ring, and that’s why it has infected you.”

“No, you’re wrong.” Simon looked irritated, which pleased her. “If this happened to you – you’d know.”

“Safer not to let it happen, then. Otherwise you forget who you are, and lose your sanity. You become a mere cipher for the Crystal Ring – or for God, if you insist.”

Abruptly he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him. She couldn’t break free. “You’re too clever, Charlotte.” With a swift movement, he dragged her onto his lap. “Too analytical.”

He gripped her arms. Their faces were very close now. His eyes entranced her and she went molten with desire. His lips parted and she ached to taste his beauty…

Suddenly she realised what was happening, and jerked back, petrified.
Was I about to be willingly unfaithful to Karl?

Not willingly.

“Don’t pull away,” said Simon, his hands tightening. “Whom will we hurt? Immortals are above earthly rules. When Karl knows you desire me, he’ll come to me too. And you do want me, don’t you? Lilith is death but I am life.”

Charlotte’s face flushed with stolen blood. Simon was stronger than her. If she fled into Raqia he would follow, and if she struggled, he would hurt her. And the dreadful thing was that she didn’t want to resist. There was nothing to do but relax, and slide her arms around his neck, and open her mouth to a kiss as fiery sweet and honeyed as blood.