different here, as objects in water appear distorted. They became dark, thin demons, their earthly garments also changing beyond recognition into spangled webs. Clothes, small personal possessions; the Ring, following its own capricious laws, would rarely allow anything heavier to be brought here.
The Crystal Ring was empty, alien, hostile. Its sheer size was enough to provoke insanity. It could be lethally cold, even to vampires. Yet there was endless fascination in its wildness. The exhilaration of flying, climbing, floating in its strange atmosphere could be fatally addictive.
No vampire could avoid the Crystal Ring. It made them what they were. Only in its frigid arms could they find the rest denied them on Earth - but if they stayed too long, the Ring might keep them forever.
The distant moan of a gale rose and fell around them... then Karl sensed shapes around him, shadows printed on the clouds. He remembered the last time - when he’d been so shocked that he sprang out of the Ring in full view of a human.
He controlled the lash of fear, caught Charlotte’s arm and held her. “Liebling, do you feel someone nearby, watching us?”
She turned slowly, blinking, her eyes like golden glass in her lovely darkened face. Her hair floated against a dark blue void. “No. Who was it?”
The feeling vanished. “No one,” said Karl. “Imagination.”
“Are you sure? It’s not like you to imagine things.” She looked drowsy. He too felt tiredness creeping over him.
“The Ring is enough, without conjuring anything worse.”
“Perhaps it was Ilona.”
“No,” he said.
“She never hated you, Karl,” Charlotte said sleepily. “Not in her heart.” She stretched and turned over like a swimmer. “The Crystal Ring feels cold tonight. I am so tired.”
“Then rest.” Lying outstretched on the sapphire ether, as if floating face down in the sea, Karl put his arm over her waist, his head on her shoulder. He felt her sigh faintly as she sank into meditation; and he let go of his own thoughts, and touched infinity.
* * *
This was the nearest state to sleep that vampires could enjoy. All emotion suspended, Charlotte gazed in a trance at waves rising and falling, golden-bronze against indigo; the world shrouded in shadow far below. Her mind wandered, not into dreams, but through strange waking visions...
She imagined herself in an elegant garden; a terrace, wide lawns, trees and pools all silvered by moonlight. A huge plane tree cast a shadow on the grass. This was Parkland Hall, her aunt’s house, where all her most vivid passions had flowered; where Karl had turned from friend to lover, in those sweetly innocent days before she knew what he was. The garden would haunt her forever, even if she never set foot there again. It had become a realm in its own right: the secret landscape of her mind, symbolising all fulfilment and all loss.
Her friend Anne was sitting with her on a marble balustrade that bounded the terrace. And Charlotte conjured a scene that she knew would never take place in real life...
Their friendship had ended in bitter words. Who could blame Anne for rejecting what Charlotte had become? Still, it hurt. The wound gaped open and stung with salt.
Yet here they were together. Anne was clearly nervous of her skin’s pale glow and the brilliance of her eyes, but Charlotte said, “It’s not so terrible. Please believe me. I’ve so wanted to come back and explain.”
“I dreamed you would,” said Anne. “I regretted the way we parted, dreadful things I said. Who am I to condemn you? The shell seems evil, but there’s mystery and beauty inside.”
“Beauty can be a warning of poison. I didn’t know until it was too late; that was my downfall. But not yours, Anne; you have more sense.”
“Have I? That’s my trouble. I never understood what you were going through. I was only there to pick you up when you fell...”
“No. You remained yourself because it didn’t touch
The Crystal Ring was empty, alien, hostile. Its sheer size was enough to provoke insanity. It could be lethally cold, even to vampires. Yet there was endless fascination in its wildness. The exhilaration of flying, climbing, floating in its strange atmosphere could be fatally addictive.
No vampire could avoid the Crystal Ring. It made them what they were. Only in its frigid arms could they find the rest denied them on Earth - but if they stayed too long, the Ring might keep them forever.
The distant moan of a gale rose and fell around them... then Karl sensed shapes around him, shadows printed on the clouds. He remembered the last time - when he’d been so shocked that he sprang out of the Ring in full view of a human.
He controlled the lash of fear, caught Charlotte’s arm and held her. “Liebling, do you feel someone nearby, watching us?”
She turned slowly, blinking, her eyes like golden glass in her lovely darkened face. Her hair floated against a dark blue void. “No. Who was it?”
The feeling vanished. “No one,” said Karl. “Imagination.”
“Are you sure? It’s not like you to imagine things.” She looked drowsy. He too felt tiredness creeping over him.
“The Ring is enough, without conjuring anything worse.”
“Perhaps it was Ilona.”
“No,” he said.
“She never hated you, Karl,” Charlotte said sleepily. “Not in her heart.” She stretched and turned over like a swimmer. “The Crystal Ring feels cold tonight. I am so tired.”
“Then rest.” Lying outstretched on the sapphire ether, as if floating face down in the sea, Karl put his arm over her waist, his head on her shoulder. He felt her sigh faintly as she sank into meditation; and he let go of his own thoughts, and touched infinity.
* * *
This was the nearest state to sleep that vampires could enjoy. All emotion suspended, Charlotte gazed in a trance at waves rising and falling, golden-bronze against indigo; the world shrouded in shadow far below. Her mind wandered, not into dreams, but through strange waking visions...
She imagined herself in an elegant garden; a terrace, wide lawns, trees and pools all silvered by moonlight. A huge plane tree cast a shadow on the grass. This was Parkland Hall, her aunt’s house, where all her most vivid passions had flowered; where Karl had turned from friend to lover, in those sweetly innocent days before she knew what he was. The garden would haunt her forever, even if she never set foot there again. It had become a realm in its own right: the secret landscape of her mind, symbolising all fulfilment and all loss.
Her friend Anne was sitting with her on a marble balustrade that bounded the terrace. And Charlotte conjured a scene that she knew would never take place in real life...
Their friendship had ended in bitter words. Who could blame Anne for rejecting what Charlotte had become? Still, it hurt. The wound gaped open and stung with salt.
Yet here they were together. Anne was clearly nervous of her skin’s pale glow and the brilliance of her eyes, but Charlotte said, “It’s not so terrible. Please believe me. I’ve so wanted to come back and explain.”
“I dreamed you would,” said Anne. “I regretted the way we parted, dreadful things I said. Who am I to condemn you? The shell seems evil, but there’s mystery and beauty inside.”
“Beauty can be a warning of poison. I didn’t know until it was too late; that was my downfall. But not yours, Anne; you have more sense.”
“Have I? That’s my trouble. I never understood what you were going through. I was only there to pick you up when you fell...”
“No. You remained yourself because it didn’t touch
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