A Dance in Blood Velvet (44 page)

Her eyes bulged, but she didn’t make a sound or try to stop him. He held her gaze over the plump heel of her thumb. Then came the gorgeous rush of blood, and it was all he could do not to seize her bodily.
Oh, God, the cruel wonder of it
... They sat motionless, victim and vampire, her wrist at his lips. No one around them noticed a thing.

Eventually the woman passed out, her head lolling as if in sleep. Karl folded her hand into her lap and quietly left. The ballet was almost over. Despite the blood filling him, he felt empty.

He didn’t look back at the woman, nor wonder whether she would live or die. He’d wanted to punish the lie of vampire glamour, but in the end had only punished another innocent victim.

Karl walked away from the theatre, his long legs carrying him swiftly through the crowded streets. The blood had sharpened his appetite, and although he didn’t want to hunt, he knew he must. He had no thoughts of Katerina or Benedict... The only image in his mind was Charlotte, glowing above him like the moon, oblivious to him, her amethyst eyes locked on a stranger.

No,
Karl thought.
I will not let Violette Lenoir win.

* * *

The party had already begun as a taxi-cab brought Charlotte, Stefan and Niklas into the square. The house dominated a grand Georgian row, its windows sparkling white against pearl-grey walls. Music and laughter struck Charlotte’s sensitive ears like the chime of glass bells. A red carpet beneath a canopy led from kerb to front door, where two footmen stood ready to greet guests.

As soon as she saw the house, Charlotte knew with dismay that she could not enter. She stopped, looking up at the long, shining windows.

“What’s wrong?” said Stefan. His hand was through her left arm, while Niklas, mute, walked on her right. He’d dressed Charlotte as the “Lady of Shalott” from the painting by John William Waterhouse; she wore a simple medieval dress, close-fitting at the waist and elbows, flaring into a full skirt and long sleeves that touched the ground. Stefan and Niklas were twin knights in chainmail and white surcoats. The party’s theme, he’d told her, was simply “black and white”.

“I’ve been here before. The hostess, who is she?”

“Lady... oh, some ridiculous name.” Stefan took an invitation card from his pocket. “Lady Emerald Tremayne.”

“Well, I can’t go in,” she whispered. Such painful memories...

“Why not?” Stefan asked patiently.

“Because I’ve met Lady Tremayne. She’s a society hostess, she knows my aunt. I came to one of those dreadful debutante parties here. God, how I hated them! She’s an awful snob who couldn’t stand me.”

“Charlotte, my dear friend.” Stefan put his hands on her shoulders. “What are you saying? This is the human part of you speaking, but she’s dead and gone. You don’t have to be frightened of some harridan who terrified you in the past.”

“But what if she recognises me? Or if other people here know me? There might even be members of my family...”

He only smiled. “If they recognise you, what does it matter? Tell them they’ve made a mistake. You can convince them of anything you like. Remember what you are!”

Still Charlotte hung back. Then she made herself release the fear, shocked at how tense she was. “You’re right,” she said, exhaling. “What am I thinking?”

“All you have to do is have fun,” he said. Then the three of them strode up the steps beneath the canopy and into the hard shine of light.

Charlotte’s overwhelming impression was of silver and white. A grand entrance hall, a stairwell with a massive chandelier shedding rainbow glints. Some guests at the foot of the stairs were all in ivory and pearl, the only colour about them the flash of gems and the golden-pink of their flesh. Through double doors that gave onto a vast ballroom, Charlotte glimpsed Greeks, Egyptians and Romans in white silk and jewels. They resembled extras from an epic film more than genuine characters; not that it mattered. This was fun, a fashion show. The rich inside their little fortress were shielded against poverty and the endless rows of slums outside in the spinning darkness...

“Charlotte!” said Stefan.

She blinked. She’d turned dizzy; how unreal this felt, as fragile as spun sugar. “I’m sorry, I was miles away.”

“You almost vanished into the Crystal Ring! Don’t do that in public, it’s very embarrassing.”

She tightened her hold on his arm. “I don’t want to be here.”

“Obviously, but you are. Come and be introduced like a good girl.”

As Stefan had predicted, they made a wonderful entrance. Her magnolia-white dress was adorned with a long golden necklace, bands of gold embroidery around her upper arms. Her hair, autumn-coloured, flowed loose to her waist.

“In the painting,” Stefan had said, “the tragic Lady drifting away in the boat is utterly unconscious of her own beauty. That’s why you are perfect to portray her, Charlotte.”

He was right; even now, Charlotte had no idea that she looked breathtaking. She was aware of heads turning, but it seemed they were staring at Stefan and Niklas; her knights.

A small, nervous young man in Greek costume came hurrying towards them; Stefan’s human friend, who had invited them.
Victim, more than friend,
Charlotte thought, seeing his pallor and the way his feverish eyes hung on Stefan and Niklas. Breathlessly he introduced them to Lady Tremayne as “Jan and Johann Kessler and their sister Eva.”

The hostess, an attractive woman in her forties, shrouded in layers of cream lace and camellias, stared hard at Charlotte. “But my dear, I swear - you look exactly like the niece of a friend of mine... Charlotte -”

“What a coincidence,” Charlotte said sweetly, affecting a vaguely Germanic accent.

The woman’s scarlet lips hardened into a smile. “But - well, forgive me, of course you couldn’t be Miss Neville.”

As Stefan spun a confection of lies about his “family”, loving every moment, Emerald Tremayne went on staring suspiciously at Charlotte. But “Eva” found she couldn’t care less what she thought.
Yes, wonder about me. Tie yourself in knots, because you’ll never know the truth.

And then they were moving into the ballroom, swimmers in a foaming tide. More chandeliers, a polished hardwood floor, curtains of creamy damask. A dance band played jaunty popular tunes and the dance floor was full, the air thick with laughter and smoke. Among the film extras she saw other costumes; the inevitable harlequin, some comical, ungainly chess pieces, even a couple dressed as a snowflake and a piece of coal. On the far side of the room, rows of windows reflected the scene in bright squares.

Thank heavens, she could see no one she knew. Perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered if she’d met her Aunt Elizabeth, since she was the only one who’d even partially understood Charlotte’s decision. But to see her sister Maddy again... she couldn’t conceive of it. There were a few half-familiar faces, but shyness and anxiety had stopped her making friends. She doubted anyone would remember her.

Charlotte felt light-headed. The scene was too sharp, like glass; she felt as if she’d been thrown back in time, into her girlhood, when such maelstroms terrified her. And yet she wasn’t afraid, just vibrantly aware of the crowd’s blood-heat. She felt like two people at once - both outsiders.

I shouldn’t have agreed to this
, she thought.
I wish I’d gone straight to Karl instead.
She pressed her tongue to the tips of her fangs.
God, why am I so thirsty
?

Already Stefan had infiltrated a group of young men and women who were braying with laughter at each other’s jokes. Charlotte stood silently apart, observing the guests like zoo exhibits. There was something pleasing in the way people would turn and stare at her. But how empty, that tiny sense of triumph...

The black chess piece was shouting drunkenly into her ear, “Miss Neville! How perfectly wonderful to see you! Care for a dance?”

She turned and looked coldly at a square puffy face inside a frame of chicken wire and paper. He was some friend of her sister’s she barely knew.

“You’ve made a mistake. My name is not...”

“Oh no, I haven’t. You’re Charlotte. Not got any friendlier, have you?”

She turned to him and smiled. She felt like tearing the wire from his sweating neck. “Would you like to come into the garden and see how friendly I can be?”

The young man looked astonished. And she would have done it, taken him outside and sucked his blood, if Stefan had not touched her arm. He must be clairvoyant, the way he always guessed what was in her mind.

“Eva, dear,” he said, pulling her away.

Then Charlotte felt the black-diamond presence of vampires, out in the entrance hall. She froze, staring at Stefan, everything else forgotten.

“Who is it?” she said.

He only smiled. “Come along.” They moved through the crowd, Niklas following serenely.

Through the wide doorway, she saw Karl and Katerina, with an unknown dark-haired male vampire, being greeted by Emerald Tremayne. Her heart leapt violently and she turned on Stefan, accusing. “You knew he was coming!”

“Of course,” the angel replied serenely. “I invited him.”

In luscious contrast to the white chosen by most guests, the three were in black velvet costumes of the eighteenth century. How gorgeous, how striking they looked! So artlessly true to their nature, there seemed no point in trying to disguise what they were. Her Ladyship, clearly taken with them, was chatting animatedly.

“Did Karl know I’d be here?” Charlotte whispered.

“Yes. That’s why he came. Andreas is with them.”

He knew,
she thought,
and yet he brought Katerina with him...

Charlotte, her arm linked through Stefan’s, could not take her eyes off Karl. He wore breeches and a waistcoat, a tailored frock coat flaring elegantly from the waist; white stockings, black buckled shoes, white lace at his throat and cuffs. Almost exactly as he’d appeared at Madeleine’s birthday party, the first time she had truly
seen
him.

She recalled the cat-grey gloom of a garden, Chinese lanterns in the trees; seeing her brother, earthly and familiar, talking to a stranger who was plainly not of this world; infinitely beautiful, infinitely terrifying. Promising to take her world apart... and proceeding to do exactly that.

And the effect Karl had on Charlotte now was just the same. No, more intense, because now she knew everything. All the terrors and wonders promised by the first glimpse had come true, and far more... and the thought that she might have lost him was agony.

My God, is he doing this to me on purpose?

Stefan was drawing her and Niklas forward, mischief in his eyes. Lady Tremayne turned and waved imperiously at them. “Ah, do come and let me introduce you. I never knew they bred such a handsome race on the continent. These are the Kessler brothers, Jan and Johann; forgive me, I can’t remember which is which.”

“Neither can we,” said Stefan, winking at Katerina.

“And their sister Eva. Miss Kessler, may I introduce Karl von Aschbach...”

Karl, his face betraying nothing, kissed Charlotte’s hand as if they had never met before. His fingers felt glacial, and he barely touched her before he let go.

“I am charmed,” he said. “And these are my friends...” he reeled off more false names.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” she said, barely glancing at Katerina or Andreas. Karl looked into her eyes for the briefest moment; he gave nothing away, but neither did she.

“How charming you look, Miss Kessler,” said Katerina, shaking her hand. Her expression was warm, but condescending. As always. How confident and regal she was, firmly in possession of both Karl and Andreas.

“More than charming,” said Andreas, sombre and sincere. Charlotte smiled guardedly. So this was Andreas! A long face with a rose-pearl translucency to his skin, dark curly hair, sensuous lips. She sensed a self-absorbed moodiness about him, but thought she might like him regardless. How frustrating that they couldn’t initiate a truthful, open conversation.

“Do come and join the party,” said Lady Tremayne. “It’s almost time for supper; only a buffet, but we can gain a head-start on the vultures.”

“Thank you, I’m afraid we’ve already eaten,” said Katerina.

If only she knew,
Charlotte thought,
what manner of vulture she is actually entertaining.

Karl turned away as Lady Tremayne led her favoured guests -like a flock of glossy ravens - into the ballroom. Charlotte followed, looking at Karl’s straight, ebony-clad back, the mahogany sheen of his hair. Oh, so painful, having to hold back and play this human charade! Was he cool to her because they were in company - or because he’d regarded their last parting as final? She could hardly blame him - but not knowing was anguish.

“Enjoy the evening,” Stefan whispered very softly. “One of you will have to swallow your pride, eventually. And you do look heavenly, though I say so myself.”

“It’s all right for you. You love this! Teasing humans, telling lies, seducing them.”

“Of course,” he said. “Don’t you?”

Lady Tremayne organised them into a circle, and the vampires stood with champagne glasses in their hands, pretending to sip. Other men and women joined them, but Emerald and Katerina flanked Karl. The conversation was the social trivia Charlotte had always detested, although she could mimic it with ease. Stefan was right; in other circumstances this would have been amusing. She resented bitterly the way Katerina stood at Karl’s side as if she belonged there - Karl making no move to dispel the impression.

Through everything, there was the tormenting thrill of being so close to Karl, unable to reach him. This feeling never died. She thought,
How could he bring Katerina? It’s a cruel way to tell me, if that’s what it is. I never dreamed it would be so difficult to see them together; I thought I could bear it but I can’t. But I won’t let him see I care; I won’t even look at them.

Instead she watched Andreas. He had the seductive glow of their kind even though he looked bored, as if was too much effort to smile. That sullen beauty was enough to draw people to him. Emerald was clearly fascinated. Charlotte distracted herself by guessing what was in her mind. She was very like Charlotte’s Aunt Elizabeth: supreme in her confidence to conquer any man she wanted. And although Andreas and Stefan (Niklas too - imagine the novelty of seducing blond twins!) were equally enticing, the prize would have to be Karl - simply to prove she could steal him from Katerina.