The Dark Blood of Poppies (7 page)

“‘Envoy’ is the more accurate term.”

“Less romantic.”

Simon looked up. His eyes were sunlit orbs: single-minded, pitiless, alien. “How to describe it? I simply
knew
. God spoke to us from within the light. We had power, and knew many things that ordinary vampires did not: how to find individuals with special gifts such as Sebastian, Kristian or Lancelyn. I always knew what to do. Make Kristian a vampire and he’ll be a magnificent ruler. Watch over Lancelyn because he has a destiny. Watch Violette because she is God’s enemy… Even while we slept in the
Weisskalt
, we remained sentient. Isn’t that proof of God’s existence?”

“I have no idea,” Karl said flatly.

“When we woke and became whole again, we became the angels tasked with taming Lilith. Such deep knowledge can’t be explained. But Karl, it was glorious!”

“And then it ended.”

“Rasmila and Fyodor were ready to accept defeat,” he said with contempt. “They were lost souls. They clung to me like children, as if I could restore our status! And I grew sick of them.”

“Callous,” said Karl.

“Am I? Are angels callous, even disempowered ones? Perhaps. I need vampires around me…”

“As an audience? Lovers? Slaves? I suppose Rasmila and Fyodor were all of those.”

Simon’s eyes glinted. “I need to be at the heart of events! I can’t bear to see everything fall apart.”

There was naked pain in his voice. Karl felt no sympathy. “Go back to sleep in the
Weisskalt
then. Your suffering will be over.”

“I find your attitude unhelpful.”

“So you’ve lost your friends and your power? I fail to see what I can do about it.”

“But it’s partly your fault, Karl.” Simon came closer. “There’s a task I must complete before God will let me back into the fold. It’s a test. I must prove myself to Him.”

Karl laughed. He had no time for God. Simon’s pupils contracted to points.

“You could have been my equal, Karl. Confronting the three of us in the
Weisskalt
, you showed no fear, only world-weary insolence. That reveals incredible strength! You slaughtered Kristian and almost killed me. Other vampires saw this power in you and begged you to lead them. You could have been great, yet you threw the chance away. Diminished yourself for the sake of a quiet life. Is this really what you want?”

Karl observed Simon carefully, gauging whether he might turn violent. “I have no interest in the power that Kristian or Lancelyn craved. I don’t see it as diminishment, but even if it is, what does it matter?”

“Ah. So you’re content for vampires to remain a leaderless rabble?”

Karl laughed. “Quite so.”

“You find this a joke?” Simon said, raising his eyebrows. He walked in a slow loop around the table, glancing at Karl’s book as he passed. “
Myths of Babylonia and Assyria
,” he read. “How interesting. Lilith as wind-hag.”

Karl, normally placid, was growing irritated.

“I see,” he said. “You’re here to establish where I stand on the question of leadership. But why?”

“Things are going wrong, Karl. Raqia is growing hostile. You might say that heaven has turned against us – and this is Lilith’s doing! We had to tame her, but we failed. Without control, she creates chaos. We gave you a very clear warning, but you’ve done nothing.”

“Violette’s only interest is ballet. I don’t think touring
Swan Lake
or
Coppélia
is going to destroy the world.”

As he spoke, Karl thought of the visit from Stefan and the others, their description of Violette’s behaviour.
She tore off Matthew’s head with her bare hands.
Karl recalled the steel-calm way in which she’d dispatched Katerina under the wheels of a train…

“And you approve, do you?” said Simon. “A vampire flaunting herself in public?”

“God, I’ve heard enough of this,” Karl murmured. “It’s up to her.”

“But it isn’t. You think she’s harmless? She will ruin us all!”

Karl knew Violette was far from harmless. Even Charlotte’s resolve to remain friendly with her was a subtle attempt at control.

“Vampires need unity,” Simon went on. “Fragmented, we cannot defend ourselves against her. We need a focus.”

“I hope you are not asking me to be this focus.”

Their eyes met. The look was a mutual challenge, the repulsion of opposites. Then Simon’s expression changed, softening to one of earnest hope, reconciliation. “Karl, don’t let us argue. We had such a fight, you and I; the torment you endured was tremendous. Yet you survived. I admire you greatly for that. Can you accept my apology?”

Karl stiffened. “It is hard to forget that you starved me almost to death, and made me attack my own friends. I admit, you seem more tolerable for not being drunk on power. If I were you, I’d leave it that way. Why do you suddenly want forgiveness?”

“You have such strength, Karl! Kristian’s followers offered you leadership, because they saw qualities in you that you can’t see for yourself.”

“I’ve given you my answer. No. If you’re so obsessed, why not seize power yourself?”

“Perhaps I should.” Simon leaned close to him, his tone passionate. “However, it’s not my vocation. If I tried, I’d be failing the test. God’s role for me is to be the kingmaker, not the king. That’s what we did with Kristian, and almost succeeded with Lancelyn. That’s my duty: to make the best choice. This time, I must not fail.”

Karl drew away. “Ah. The puppet master. Lancelyn empowered you by calling on your help. Now you want the same of me, while I become your puppet?”

“It’s not like that. You’re missing the point. I act for God, not for myself. We need a leader for the benefit of vampire-kind.”

“Even though these would-be leaders have caused all our troubles?” Karl said acidly.

“So take on the role and make it what you want!” Simon turned scornful. “I find you incredible, Karl. You do momentous things like murdering Kristian, creating Charlotte, protecting Lilith – then you sit back and say you want a quiet life?”

“You make it sound as if I’ve earned it,” Karl said mordantly.

“If I go to someone else, you will be sorry.”

“Please tell me you are not considering Sebastian Pierse.”

Simon grinned viciously. “Now wouldn’t he make a leader to be reckoned with?”

“He’d be worse than Kristian. At least Kristian had a code of behaviour, albeit warped.”

“You had the choice, Karl.” Karl sensed frustration behind the grin. And fear, perhaps. “One last chance to change your mind.”

“No. I won’t be blackmailed. You’ll never find Sebastian; even Kristian couldn’t track him down. No, I won’t change my mind. I once thought we might be friends,” Karl said sadly. “You reminded me of a human I once knew, a brave and decent man, a war hero. But you’re a liar. You enjoyed tormenting us. You speak of God’s plan, yet all you care about is getting your own way. You’re no archangel, never were. Don’t talk to me about the good of vampire-kind, when you secretly despise us all.”

Simon glared. Karl saw crimson fire behind his golden eyes, the worm eating at the rose. Finally he said grimly, “No, you’re right. You wouldn’t make a suitable leader. You’re weak. Love for Charlotte has blinded you to Lilith’s evil. I should have known better than to try reasoning with an atheist.”

“I’d sooner go to hell than bow to your cruel God,” Karl retorted coldly.

“How can you not believe?” Simon gathered himself like a tiger ready to pounce.

Yes
, Karl thought,
I was right. He’s deluded and dangerous – but he’ll never intimidate me.

“Many folk claim that God speaks to them,” Karl said. “Strange, that he says something quite different to each one.”

“I’ll find my way back to Him, and your blind heresy will not stop me, friend-of-Lilith. Traitor.”

Simon’s hands rose in claws and his fangs extended to their full length.

“Don’t,” Karl said quietly.

Simon ignored the command. Swift and savage, he lunged, struck Karl across the face, seized his throat two-handed. Wedged back against the table, Karl could not dislodge him. Simon gripped him by the collarbone and the chin, stretching Karl’s throat between his hands. His staring eyes were like Niklas’s; the iced-gold, mindless eyes of a
doppelgänger
.

“If God creates angels like you,” Karl rasped, “we are damned, for certain.”

He thrust his hands upwards in prayer position between Simon’s arms and stabbed his fingers at those glorious eyes. Simon loosed his grip to defend himself. Karl kicked his legs from under him and dropped on top of him, his hands clamping Simon’s elbows to the floor, the tips of his canines touching the angelic neck. The flesh was peach-soft.

Karl did not bite. Instead he pulled back. “I don’t want a single mouthful of your blood. I remember what happened when Rasmila so generously gave me hers. A trap to put me in your control.”

Simon looked defeated, furious. Karl thought,
He’s lost his way and he’s frightened of something. Very frightened.

“You should leave,” said Karl. “If you wish to discuss anything in a civilised fashion, by all means call again. But if you threaten me, or lay a finger on my friends, I’ll bury you with Kristian.”

He rose to his feet, letting Simon up.

“You’ve made a grave error,” said Simon, “but then, I suppose you’ve had a lot of practice.” The vitriol of his stare could have melted glass. He pushed past Karl, looking back over his shoulder as he faded into the Crystal Ring. “You’re going to hell with Lilith, for certain.”

K
ristian was dead, but Schloss Holdenstein remained: an age-raddled pile of brown stone on a ridge above the river Rhine, crowned with decaying roofs and turrets. Its silhouette crouched like a beast against the creamy sky. Rocks and ancient trees crusted its flanks. The hillside below fell steeply to the river, fell again into the green mirror of the water.

Isolated in its forest wilderness, the castle lived under no human laws.

It lived once
, thought Cesare,
but now it is dying.

Every day Cesare would wander the tortuous corridors of the castle, the cramped, windowless chambers, the staircases leading up or down at mad angles. Sorrow and desolation breathed from the very walls. How empty, how drear this place was without Kristian, their master. Deserted and dying of grief…

He would always pause in the meeting room, the large chamber where Kristian had held court. The ebony throne remained. Cesare imagined Kristian’s presence everywhere, as if to will the master back to life. He dreamed and mourned, dry-eyed.

And then he would return to his own cell, and meditate on the futility of existence.

There were a few vampires still left in the Schloss, but he might as well have been alone. They never spoke to each other. There was nothing to say.

When Kristian first disappeared, Cesare and the other disciples had tried to carry on as normal. Almost two years they’d waited, held together by faith that Kristian would return.

Instead, Karl had come to tell them that Kristian was dead.

Devastation. Knowing they were lost without their leader, he had told Karl – as if yielding to a new king – “You took him from us, so you must take his place!”

Karl had refused. In his anguish, Cesare had tried to kill him. Karl had won, almost severing Cesare’s head in the process.

After the wound healed, Cesare changed. He no longer cared. Without Kristian, there was nothing to live for. Now he and the others, remnants who couldn’t face the world beyond the castle, merely existed. They went out at night to drink human blood or energy, rested in the Crystal Ring, prayed to their cruel God. The rest of the time, all those interminable hours, they huddled in their cells, questioning nothing. No one new came or went. Nothing changed.

Cesare drifted through eternity in the depths of misery, dead inside.

When dawn found him one morning, cross-legged on the flagstones with a book of Kristian’s writings in his lap, he thought he was imagining a new presence in the castle. He felt a shadow brush his mind, walking the corridors towards his cell…

“Cesare,” said a raw, whispering voice.

He looked up, saw a vampire in a shabby dark suit. Colourless face, eyes pouched with grief, short hair standing on end. A sack dangled from his left hand.

It was a face Cesare hadn’t seen for a hundred and fifty years. Impossible. He put the book aside and stood, shaking creases out of his robe. “Who are you?”

“You know me.”

Cesare frowned. “John?”

“Yes, I am John. You must help me!”

Memory woke, and a splinter of black anger pierced the greyness. “But Kristian put you in the
Weisskalt
.”

“I woke up.” John’s eyes were glassy, maniacal. “Kristian’s death woke us and we escaped.”

“You were Kristian’s enemies, you and that traitor Matthew.” Cesare’s anger surged, exhilarating and uncontrollable.
So I’m not quite dead, after all
. “You attacked him.”

“And we were punished. Don’t turn me away.”

Cesare was so stunned to be thinking, feeling, talking, that however deeply he’d hated John, he wanted to keep him here. “What do you want?”