Freda Warrington - Blood 01 by A Taste of Blood Wine

Author:A Taste of Blood Wine
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Dress as warmly as you can,” said Karl, “and bring some food. I think the workmen will have left a flashlight or at least an oil lamp in the kitchen.”

Now the moment had come, Charlotte did not want to leave. Talking to Karl, she had felt more and more at ease with him, bathing in his radiance as she had that night in the study, when she had only wanted to sit with him and listen to the rain… but time, as always, stabbed cold fingers of reality into their refuge.

She glanced out at the black sky streaked with smoky violet. David was waiting out there in the cold, worried sick, his heart aching for Edward and for her. Dear God, what am I doing?

She wrapped herself in the warm brown coat that Elizabeth had sent, trying fiercely to suppress her guilt; trying not to think of anything at all—except finding the way out.

Pulling on a hat and gloves, she followed Karl on to the landing and down the stairs. Lit only by the faint fireglow from the solar, the hall was as dark and fathomless as a cathedral. No longer did this house feel benign to Charlotte; the air was fogged with malevolence, as if the dreaming ghosts imprinted in its walls were beginning to stir into consciousness.

She kept her eyes fixed on Karl’s back as they descended. He looked prepossessing and in complete control; but the ring of their heels on the treads recalled other echoes. David shouting a warning; Edward rushing up the stairs, blindly heroic. The narrow gleaming fire of Karl’s eyes as, silent and ruthless, he tore into Edward’s neck then sent him sprawling down the stairs…

The house had absorbed these events and now screamed them back at Charlotte’s heightened senses.

Strange and terrifying, that her perception of Karl could change so suddenly. He had seemed gentle and protective in the glow of the fire; but this darkness, cold and pain-laden, seemed to strip away his humanity and reclaim him as its own.

In the kitchen, they found a well-fuelled hurricane lamp. “We had better not light it until we are in the cellar,” said Karl, “in case someone sees the light moving across the window.”

Someone outside. Oh God. An image of herself breaking a pane and crying for help… but it was too late for that. She moved stiffly to the cellar door and opened it. The latch felt heavy and clammy, shedding rust on to her fingers. Karl went through and she pulled the door shut behind them.

Blackness enveloped them, thick and stringy as cobwebs. Karl struck a match, and lamplight flared and spilled down the steps.

Where the beam fell, a four-legged shadow slipped across the steps. It no longer seemed cat-like but elongated, sinister. Neither of them commented, but Karl put his hand on her shoulder.

“You’re trembling,” he said. “I thought you weren’t afraid of being here.”

She could not answer. In the lamp glow, against the shadows, he looked so completely what he was. “Shall I go first?” she said.

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