A Voyage into Night Ch. 04

Isobel frowned, wondering if she had misheard: "Tell who? what..." But the jester interrupted:

"Had circumstances been different I believe I may have already found my choice. Alas... my search must continue. I hope you have a wonderful, memorable night Dr. Cartwright. I still remember attending my first decanting. It is a very special occasion. I hope it is everything you would want it to be."

So many questions were forming in Isobel's head, but the music began again and the moment was lost. She could only watch silently as the jester backed off from the dance floor, leaving her standing alone in the middle, a still figure in the centre of a whirling storm of dancing bodies. This is what it must be like to stand at the centre of one of those old Zoetrope machines, she thought. The jester approached her own group, and Isobel saw Angela's expectant face crumble into disappointment as the he reached past her to offer his hand to a bemused looking Katy. Nevertheless she took his hand and very soon they had joined the other figures whirling around Isobel on the dance floor. He was so very hard to resist, she thought, even Katy could not refuse.

She was about to try to edge her way through the dancers when she felt a sudden prickling along the back of her neck, a sensation that was very familiar. Turning, she saw that a figure was watching her from an open doorway, partially hidden. It was a woman wearing a black dress and hood, a deeper shadow against the darkness. At first, Isobel thought that the woman too was wearing a full face mask with a dark red pattern around the eyes. However, she soon saw that the pale plaster of the mask was, in fact, the woman's own flawless skin. Isobel could feel the intensity of the woman's gaze focussing past the swirling dancers at her. And only at her.

Isobel knew who it was without even having to think about it. In fact, some hidden part of her had expected this from the moment she had seen the new arrivals stalk into the room. For a moment she felt sick with the realisation of what was happening. She felt the strength go out of her legs and she staggered, almost falling. When she regained her composure and looked back towards the archway, the woman was gone. Confused, she scanned the room.

"There was a woman who came to see me, long ago."

Isobel gasped to hear the woman's voice speaking close to her ear, so close she must surely be behind her,

"She was very brave, and smart. She had spirit." Isobel breathed in slowly when she felt a gloved arm reach around her waist from behind. Her pulse quickened as she felt the closeness of the woman behind her, so close that she could feel the her breath on her neck as she talked. "She came to me out of concern for a father she knew I had in my keeping. She was a loving, dutiful daughter, and so she offered herself as a replacement." Isobel could not move, and her breath caught when she felt the woman's arm around her waist tighten and the woman's body press against her back, firm yet yielding. The woman's accent was vaguely European; her English was perfect but there was more than just a hint of the continent about it.

"I accepted the trade," her voice no more than a whisper now, spoken directly into Isobel's ear, "and I had so much hopes for her. She had so much life, so much spirit." Isobel leant her head back, feeling the coolness of the woman's face against her cheek. But she could not bring herself to turn around. She was intensely aware of how close the woman's mouth was to her neck. Around the two women the dance continued and Isobel could see the musicians were still playing, and yet the music had faded out completely. It was as if the two women were encased in an glass cabinet, the outside world visible, but unreachable. The voice again, so quiet, so intimate: "You remind me very much of her."

"I'm no one else," said Isobel, finally finding her voice, "I'm just me. Whoever this woman was... I'm not like her."

The arm around her waist tightened, the mouth so close to her ear she could almost feel it's cool touch. The voice, little more than a breath: "For both our sakes, I very much hope so." Confused, Isobel shook her head

"I don't understand any of this. None of this makes sense, none of it. What do you want?"

"You know very well what I want." The voice came almost as a hiss. "And your right, none of this makes sense. I should not be here, but I am finished with hiding. I needed to see you. I needed to be sure."

"I'm no one." Isobel moaned, resisting even as she felt her body surrendering. The thrilling sensation as she felt the woman's breath on her throat.

"There is a side to you, maybe even your true side, that even you may only dimly be aware of. I sensed it that night on deck. I saw it when you fed on that boy."

Again Isobel shook her head, this time more violently and, breaking free of the woman's grasp turned to face her. For a moment she hesitated; the woman was so close and, for a heartbeat, Isobel's voice failed her. They had never been so close before whilst looking into each other's eyes. She was so beautiful, her mouth, not black as Isobel had previously though, but a dark wine colour. Isobel felt a strong compulsion to close what little distance there was and taste those lips. She resisted, her anger at the woman's comments still too fresh: "I did no such thing, that was you! You... you brainwashed me."

"Would that we had that power," the woman's laughter was not unkind, "You did what you wanted to do. What we both wanted to do. We do not hypnotize, we do not 'brainwash'. Mortals want what we have to offer, and so we give it to them and they, for their part, do not want to resist"

"How it that any different?" Isobel asked. Moretta shrugged, conceding the point.

"I'm no murderer!" Isobel repeated, as much to herself as to the woman.

"No, your not," The woman said softly, "You, my dear, are a hunter. Your only just discovering it."

"Your insane! I'm a doctor. Why did you bring me here?" The question repeated, more desperately this time. There was a pause, and then the woman leant in and for a heart-stopping moment, Isobel thought that the time had come:

"To find out if I'm right. If you are to be part of this, you need to know who we are. You need to see what we are. At midnight there will be a decanting, the first this decade. Watch it, then make your decision. My name is Moretta. You are here tonight under my protection, you will not be harmed. If, after the decanting, you wish nothing more to do with us, you will be allowed to leave. If, however, you wish to stay..." Isobel closed her eyes as she felt the woman's mouth against her ear, "find me!" When Isobel opened her eyes, the woman had gone.

Isobel looked around the crowded ballroom, in a daze. Her thoughts racing at such a speed there was no hope of holding onto any particular one. The closeness of the woman, the feel of her breath against Isobel's ear. Then she remembered her friends. Although her own emotions and thoughts were in turmoil, there was one thing she was clear on, she did not want Ian and the others involved. They had to be warned.

Alert to the danger now that her eyes had been opened, she saw how the new arrivals had mixed with the invited guests: pairing off, dancing, or crowding around individuals. Making selections from the menu, was the horrifying thought that occurred to her. She looked towards the edge of the dance floor, to see where Ian and the others had congregated: there was no sign of them. Panicked now she scoured the room looking for familiar faces. Nothing.

She left the dance floor, making her way towards the open doors leading to the stairs. Above her she could see shadows moving against the panelled wall, there were people upstairs. Taking the steps two at a time she came to a corridor lined with doors along both sides, filled with people. At the far end she had a brief glimpse of the large grey wig worn by Imogen. She called out her name, shouldering her way though the crowd, a mixture of people and vampires. It was Imogen, she was waiting patiently while a masked vampire was unlocking one of the doors. "Imogen!" she cried out as she got nearer. The figures gathered around Imogen, two male and two female vampires, turning at the intrusion, studied Isobel for a moment, then seemed to discount her as a threat. Imogen's hands were being held by two of the vampires but her expression gave no sign of fear or concern.

"Imogen," said Isobel breathlessly as she finally reached her, "you need to come with me. Come quickly, your not safe here. Do you have any idea where Ian is?" The vampire who had unlocked the door turned to her:

"I don't think this is anything you should be concerning yourself with, Doctor Whittaker." He had a strong African accent and Isobel had a moment of shock at the mention of her name. The man opened the door wide and beckoned Imogen to enter. "Is there not somewhere else you think you should be?"

Imogen entered the room while Isobel watched helplessly. The four vampires entered with her and, before the door closed, she turned to Isobel, a look of unconcerned confusion on her face. "Who's Ian?" she said, just before the door began to swing closed. Isobel had one final sight of the vampires gathering around her friend, as the door finally shut. The click of a lock being turned was echoed along the corridor as all of the other doors were locked in turn, trapping it's occupants, human and otherwise, within. She was left alone in the corridor. She placed her hand on the cold, solid, wood of the door. From inside she heard sounds of soft laughter.

The sounds of the string quartet drifted up from below, as if nothing in the world was wrong. Then another sound intruded, the solid gongs of a clock sounding the hour of midnight.

She hurried back down the stairs into the ballroom. Her rational mind had told her that she needed to warn the guests, to tell them to fight and run. But that wasn't the truth. She ran down those stairs for the same reason she had stayed on the balcony, all those nights before, watching a world she had never thought possible step out from the darkness to present itself. She wanted to watch, to see how far down the rabbit hole they had all tumbled... and how much farther there was still to fall.

The string quartet has stopped playing, possibly in order to hear out the chimes of midnight. At first sight the ballroom appeared to be full of statues; a room full of immobile figures, vampires and mortals alike, waiting for some signal. One couple alone continued to move: the Jester and Katie, alone in their own little world, weaving in and out of the static crowd, waltzing to music only they could hear. Then, when the final chimes of midnight echoed round the room, the vampires moved as one and dozens of masquerade masks fell to the floor. There were screams, but not many, and then the true night's feast began.

Isobel watched from the archway, horribly fascinated by what she saw before her. Some vampires did not wait and simply tore into the throats of their victims as if they were survivors from a desert island finally being offered their first meal. Others took their time, undressing, caressing, even kissing their enraptured guests before delivering the final bite. Many more took it further. Isobel watched as one vampire, a beautiful black woman with long dreadlocked hair, mounted her victim while he sat back on one of the Chaise Lounge lining the dance floor. Holding his head she pressed her mouth to his in a deep kiss as she took him inside her. When she threw her head back in pleasure, two trails of blood trickled from either side of her mouth. The man, lost in some languorous stupor, reached up and pulled her back down to continue.

On another sofa, Isobel saw a man passionately kissing one vampire, while another had bitten deeply into his outstretched wrist. Next to a him a woman was masturbating a man in a dark, expensive looking suit, even as he fed hungrily from her throat. Wherever Isobel looked there was passion and hunger, seduction and death. The musicians started up their music again, a strange soundtrack to the carnage that surrounded them. And still, the Jester and Katie danced, stepping around the slowly growing pools of blood as if entirely unaware of what was going on around them.

Isobel grabbed a knife from the buffet table and made her way back upstairs. The doors in the corridor were still closed and Isobel took the time to place her ear against the one she knew contained Imogen. Inside she could make out the sounds of wet, rhythmic movement and the soft, gentle moans of a woman. As she looked down at her feet she saw a small trickle of blood emerge from the gap at the bottom of the door. She stepped back before it lapped against her boots. Similar sounds came from behind all of the other doors.

Making her way along the corridor she found herself in a larger room containing a long dining table. Dinner had been served, and Isobel had time to notice that the two bodies laid out were Antoine and Emily. They were still alive as almost a dozen vampires took a series of small, sampling bites on their naked bodies. Isobel stayed and watched, although she was careful not to meet Antoine's eyes. Eventually she edged around the table and left by the far exit. The smell of blood in the air was so strong it seemed as though she was walking through a cloud of it.

The exit led onto another staircase leading down into the kitchen. She ran through this room and only had a brief sense of numerous men and women, hanging upside down above large barrels, which were quickly filling with blood. Isobel did not stop to look more closely.

Exiting from the kitchens she realized she had come full circle and, after a short corridor lined with portraits, she found herself back in the ballroom. The scene before her was one that would not have been out of place in ancient Rome. Naked bodies writhed around her and the air was thick with the sounds of pain and pleasure intermixed and indistinguishable. One woman with short dark hair was pressed against a wall with her legs wrapped around the waist of a muscled mountain of a man who was thrusting into her in long, powerful strokes. Isobel had assumed the woman to be the prey and was surprised when she moaned in ecstasy revealing fangs almost an inch long. Isobel watched as the woman made a small cut in the man's powerful should with her sharp fingernail and preceded to lap catlike at the blood even as the man, oblivious, continued to fuck her.

She wondered for a moment at the lack of music, but then saw that some vampires, having finished with their own prey, had descended on the musicians. Not that the lack of musical accompaniment had deterred the jester and Katie, who continued in their own dance. The jester remained masked and clothed in his finery, although he had found the time to relieve Katie of her clothes. Many vampires, sated after their own feedings, sat and watched as the woman danced, the sweat on her naked body sometimes making it appear as a flash of light spinning around the room. She must have been exhausted, thought Isobel, although she could see little evidence of it on the young woman's flushed, besotted face. Isobel was tempted to stay, to see this performance through to it's inevitable conclusion, but she knew where she needed to be.

A side corridor leading from the ballroom opened out into a series of rooms, all of which contained walls covered in numerous landscape paintings. Isobel began to feel she was wandering through an art gallery. Every room was occupied by feasting vampires and their victims. She saw Angela, naked from the waist up while behind her a woman with ice white hair fed from her neck. One of the vampire's hands held Angela by the waist, the other held her naked breast. Angela's eyes had rolled up in her head and she was murmuring a stream of gibberish interspersed with deep groans of pleasure.

One more door, and then Isobel was outside and the blast of fresh, salt air was enough to send her light headed. The keening sound of seagulls could be heard and she saw that she had made her way to the gardens at the back of the house, a long, sloping lawn leading down to a sheer drop overlooking the sea. The sheer sense of open sky was awe-inspiring after the closed in horror of the house and she had never seen the stars look so numerous, or so bright. Down at the cliff's edge, she saw a solitary dark figure standing, looking out at the inky blackness of the sea. Isobel knew who it was instantly, and began walking towards her, a walk that quickly became a run.

The figure turned as Isobel drew near, the hood was gone but she was still wearing the mask. Isobel slowed her run and came to a halt about ten feet from the woman on the cliff edge. For a moment, uncertainty and fear clutched her chest. Moretta made no move towards her, and Isobel sensed that she was expected to make the first Move. Her mouth was as dry as stone and she felt light-headed to be so close to the end. She was painfully aware that everything that had happened over the past few weeks had been leading up to this moment. She knew that she could turn back; knew even that she should turn back, back to her old life, to reason, reality. But it was unthinkable! She knew that if she turned away now the memory of this woman, and what could have happened had she stayed, would haunt her the rest of her life.

Moretta had told her that she needed to make a decision. Really, there was no decision to be made. With one hand Isobel reached up to her hair, loosening it so that the long red curls fell, framing her face. Her heart raced in her chest as she took a step towards the dark woman.

"Isobel, no!" The cry came from behind her, a shout of desperation from a voice that was horribly familiar. Turning, she saw Ian limping down the garden towards them, in his hands what looked like a hunting rifle. A rifle that was aimed directly at Moretta. Instinctively Isobel stepped into the line of sight of the weapon, shielding Moretta. Ian grunted in shock: "What the fuck are you doing? Isobel, have you gone mad? Do you know what they're doing in there, have you any idea? They're monsters! Get out of the fucking way or she'll kill you!' He said this without breaking his stride, closing the distance between them. Isobel could see an ugly looking gash above his right eyebrow, and his dark trousers glistened darkly on one knee.

Isobel raised her hand, hoping to stop him: "Ian, listen to me, you need to go. Get out now, don't ask any questions, Just go!"

"What the fucking hell are you talking about Izzy? You need to come with me, we need to get Imogen, and we need to kill this fucking bitch and any other twisted freaks that try to stop us." Moretta hissed defiantly, her canines extended, but she stood her ground. Isobel took a step towards Ian, one hand raised as if to push him back towards the house.

"You don't understand, you need to just go. For Christ's sake Ian would you just listen to me!" He was almost upon them, swerving to one side in an attempt to get a clear shot.

He wasn't listening: "What the fuck is wrong with you Izzy. You don't know what she is, get out of the fucking way! You don't know what she is!"

"No Ian," said Isobel, her voice calm, if a little sad as, taking a step towards him and, with all the strength she could muster, she buried the knife she had been carrying into his chest up to the hilt. His face didn't register pain or shock, just a look of confusion as of a man who feels he has been unfairly excluded from a joke. He dropped the rifle onto the grass, looked pleadingly at Isobel. With a wrench Isobel pulled the knife from his body: "I know exactly what she is!" She whispered as she opened his throat with one sweep of her arm. She felt the warm splatter of blood on her face, and then Ian crumpled to the floor; twitched once, twice, then lay still.