"Warrington, Freda - A Taste of Blood Wine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Warrington Freda)

Kristian's expressive face relaxed. "You are a liar, my beloved. You care." He came close enough for Karl to feel the soft, resentful breath on his cheek. The older vampire's presence was oppressive, a wall of blackness across the sky. Karl hid the despair that pierced him. "You may not be afraid for yourself, but what about the ones you love? The sins of the fathersЕ " He opened and closed his hands expressively, his skin gleaming through the dirt in bone-white lines.
"There is no one left."
"Don't pretend Ilona means nothing!" Kristian exclaimed. "There, I have only to mention her name to see the pain in your eyes."
Karl kept the anxiety out of his voice, but it was a struggle. "You love her. You would not harm her."
"Wouldn't I?" Kristian said savagely. "How else can I make you understand, that I would make any sacrifice to bring you back?"
Karl turned to him in shock, giving Kristian his brief moment of triumph.
"Kristian, in God's nameЧ"
"Ah, now the heretic calls on God? I won't do it yet. I'll give you time to think." As he spoke, he lifted his hands and began to scrape Karl's dried blood from under his fingernails, as if cleaning a dagger. "But don't think for too long. Such a shame, if Ilona has to pay for your waywardness."
Before Karl could respond, Kristian stepped away, opening his hands in malediction. Then his body elongated to a dark streak that arced away and vanished into the Crystal Ring. Only the after-image of his faceЧcloud-white, etched with the severe brows, the dark pits of his eyes, the single black moleЧlingered for a second before dispersing into nothingness.
Kristian was gone, but his threat hung in the air like a column of smoke. Harmless in itself, the sinister flag of destruction. Karl began to feel cold. The noise of battle seemed muffled now, but the voices of the dying came through clear as trumpets, and pain rose from them in silvery waves.
He had to stay. A painful decision, callousЧbut the only one he could make. To heed the threat was to let Kristian win.
There is no God here. No revelations in Kristian's words or in medieval superstition to explain any of this, he thought. Science thenЕ what can that tell a vampire, who by the laws of natural philosophy should not exist?
One voice in particular drew him now; a German, crying pitifully over and over again, "MuftiЕ Mufti, hilf mirЕ "
He went towards the sound. A strange breast-high mist was drifting across the battlefield, like a vampire of another kind, sucking the last remnant of warmth from the dead. It crept down into the shell-hole where the young English soldier lay drained of life; not the first of the wounded to whom the vampire had brought swift oblivion that night, nor the last.
This night would be endless.



PART ONE
I lived alone without you
Shadows on my wall
Ghosts in my looking glass
Voices in the hall
At first I didn't understand
I had nothing left to sell
And although I played with fire
My life was cold as hell
ЧHorslips
"Ghosts"



Chapter One
Outside the Rain
Fear was such an irrational predator. Charlotte Neville stood on the edge of the crowd, blinking at the glitter of beads on evening dresses, lights blurring in a blue haze of smoke. The gramophone's cheerful rasp curled through the babble of voices like the buzzing of a fly. The whole room seemed to shimmer and expand with her heartbeat.
This fear had stalked Charlotte all her life, but the more she tried to reason it away, the deeper it dug its claws. Shyness, others called it, but that soft word did not even begin to encompass the dread that lay clotted inside her, ready to flame up whenever she was required to be sociable.
This is only Fleur's house. It's not as if it's a grand affair, she told herself angrily, but logic could not break the perverse functioning of her subconscious. Seeing an empty armchair near the door, Charlotte made her way shakily to it, grateful that no one took any notice. If anyone had, she would have answered in monosyllables until they left her alone.
I want to be friendly, she thought unhappily. Why do I always feel so out of place and tongue-tied? They must think I'm such a fool.
It had been her Aunt Elizabeth's idea to launch her into London society, an attempt to kill or cure. And like learning to swim by leaping into the Arctic Ocean, it was killing her. The whole Season had been a nightmare. If only Anne were here, at least I'd have someone I could talk to. But her friend Anne had more sense than to waste her time in what she scorned as "a rich man's marriage market." I wish some of Anne's good sense would rub off on me, then perhaps none of this would matter so muchЕ
Charlotte could not account for her fear of people, but it was very real and it filled her with shame. It was so ridiculous, compared with the genuine terrors that her brother David and his friend Edward must have faced in the War. But the guilt she felt only served to heighten her anxiety.
She watched her slender, copper-haired sisters circulating around the guests; Fleur tall and elegant, Bohemian-looking in floating scarves and long loops of pearls, always with a slight smile as if she knew an interesting secret. And Madeleine, pretty and animated, a touch of naяvetщ about her that was charming because it never quite tipped over the edge into gaucheness. With a cigarette in a long holder, she looked far more sophisticated than her eighteen years. And I'm nearly two years older, Charlotte thought. I wish I could be like them. How did they acquire such poise?
She closed her eyes, imagining she was at home in Cambridge. Ah, that was better. The closed, quiet world of her father's laboratoryЕ the bulky curve of his back as he leaned over a piece of equipment, while she sat with her notebook making sense of his tangential commentary. The cellar walls dank and bare, but safe, because they were so familiar. No sound except the dull hum of the generator and the gurgling of water pipes. No one there except herself, Father and their assistant Henry, a large, untidy young man with a brilliant mind so focussed on physics that he gave no thought to his appearance or social skills. Henry she could tolerate because she was used to him, and he demanded nothing of her; not like these society people who expected her to sparkle and parade her attributes like a circus horse, who then regarded her with disdain when she failed.
Her chair sagged suddenly under the weight of someone sitting on the arm. She opened her eyes and found Madeleine beside her, the beads on her oyster silk dress straining the frail fabric as she leaned down towards Charlotte. A scent of smoke and perfume clung to her.
"Charli, when's Father giving his lecture to the Royal Society?"
"OhЧnext Friday evening." Charlotte was startled. Madeleine had never shown any particular interest in their father's lectures before.
"What's it about?"
'"The Electrical Structure of Matter'."
"The electricЧwhat? Oh, never mind. I'll tell him it's terribly interesting."
"Tell who?" said Charlotte.
Madeleine swung one leg, all nervous energy. "I've met the most delicious young man. He's from Vienna, his name's Karl von Wultendorf, and he's frightfully interested in science. That's why he came to England, to study. When I told him my father was Dr George Neville, Karl had heard of him!" She mimicked an Austrian accent. '"Ah, he is a very eminent physicist. I should be very interested to meet him.' So I've been telling Karl that he really should come to Cambridge, that's where all the exciting discoveries are taking place. Isn't that true? You know better than me."