Enniel stepped down, away from the throne and raised his arms to the Parzupheim. They all rose to their feet and turned towards the Master of Ceremonies.
‘Behold,’ Enniel cried. ‘The return of the Divine King! Shemyaza! Son of Anu, Father of Adam, Root of the Vine, from which all things proceed, to whom all things return. Pillar of Jacob, Bestower of Solomon’s Wisdom, Foundation Stone, Builder of Life and Bringer of Salvation!’
The Parzupheim all threw up their arms, and cheered, shouting out the praises that would close the ritual. ‘Re harakti! Re harakti! Re harakti!’
‘Son of the sun,’ whispered Daniel, frozen in his seat.
‘Blood of the lamb,’ murmured Sofia beside him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Sea Maid
Tamara was sitting in her kitchen eating lunch, when Barbelo walked in through her unlocked back door. The Grigori woman seemed nervous and excited. Tamara had not seen her for several days, and had begun to worry about it, frightened that Barbelo had changed her mind about including Tamara in her plans. But Barbelo sat down opposite her and said, ‘He is among us!’
Tamara’s heart clenched in her chest, a desperate muscle. ‘You have seen him?’
Barbelo nodded, and removed her headscarf. ‘Oh yes! Soon, my dear, you will see him for yourself. Have you been empowering the site as I instructed you?’
‘Yes. The thought-form is very clear now.’
‘And the boy, Delmar. Has he become more tractable?’
‘Since I began feeding him that powder you gave me, yes.’
Barbelo smiled. ‘Good. He has an important part to play, and I can’t help feeling he is somewhat of a weak link. He is no Daniel Cranton, who’s the Shining One’s vizier, but I’m afraid he’s going to have to assume some of that persona! You’ll have to keep a tight curb on him, Tamara.’
‘I will, don’t worry.’ Tamara wanted to ask what Shemyaza looked like, what he had said, but sensed that Barbelo would not want to answer. Over their relatively short acquaintance, Tamara had learned the Grigori woman liked to keep secrets, to maintain the balance of power between them.
‘Tonight, you must enact the final rite,’ Barbelo said. ‘This afternoon, concentrate on the thought-form of Ishtahar, and send a call of desire to Shemyaza within High Crag. He must come to you tonight. Go to the Mermaid’s Cove at dusk, and conjure the power of the sea. Prepare Delmar as I have told you. Then project all the energy you possess into luring Shemyaza out to the cliff-top. I shall be aiding you from within the house. Once he emerges, it must proceed as we have discussed.’
Tamara’s heart was beating so fast, she was afraid she’d have a seizure. The time had come so quickly. She’d imagined she’d have days in which to prepare herself for this meeting. ‘What time will it happen?’
Barbelo shrugged. ‘I have no way of knowing precisely. Today, the elders of the Grigori families meet to discuss Shemyaza’s future. It is most likely they will crown him as their Divine King before the day is out. All to the good.’ She paused. ‘Tamara, Shemyaza is a god, but he is also a man. Do not be foolish and allow his glamour to bewitch you. It is vital you remain in control. Love him as the Prince of Light, but despise the Adam in him. You, in some respects, are more powerful than he, for you are female. I am relying on you.’
Tamara wondered why Barbelo wanted no part of this ritual herself. ‘Have no fear,’ she said. ‘I have waited for this too long to let it go awry.’
After Barbelo had left, Tamara unplugged her telephone and closed all the curtains in the cottage. Delmar came to visit her every day after school now, so she had several hours in which to work before he arrived. Forcing herself not to hurry, she ritually prepared herself for the tasks ahead. Then, she went downstairs and pushed all the furniture in her parlour to the edges of the room, creating a space where she could meditate. Barbelo had given her special incense and over a dozen long, intricately-worked candles that were smeared with pungent oil. Tamara arranged these items in a circle, then lit the incense and the candles. Her parlour was transformed into a temple removed from the mundane world beyond her walls. She concentrated on the thought-form of Ishtahar, made her sing with longing and desire. Somewhere, she felt a presence become alert to her call. For a moment, her concentration wavered. It was him! A tide of desire threshed through her blood. Shemyaza! Rekindling her energy, she directed wave after wave of feeling towards him, until he would feel drunk and confused. Soon, she would touch his holy body.
After visiting Tamara as Barbelo, Sofia called on Salamiel before she went to High Crag. She found him almost hysterical with expectation. ‘Calm down, my dear,’ she breathed, gliding into his study.
‘But what’s happening?’ Salamiel demanded. ‘Azazel has been at High Crag for two days, yet you still have not brought him here to me, where he belongs.’
Sofia sat down, giving an impression of outward composure, though within she fought with the same maelstrom of emotion that showed plainly in Salamiel’s face. ‘Be patient,’ she said. ‘All proceeds as it should.’
Salamiel eyed her with suspicion. ‘You are sure the Parzupheim will not instruct Azazel to awake the Shamir for them?’
‘Oh, quite sure.’ Sofia grinned. ‘You must stop worrying. Let Enniel’s cronies anoint Azazel as their king. It serves only to augment his power, for us to use.’
‘Have you told him about me?’
Sofia shook her head, her brow creased. ‘No, not yet, but soon. Perhaps today, if I get the chance.’
‘Yes, today!’ Salamiel got to his feet. ‘Bring him to me tonight.’
Sofia turned down the corners of her mouth in a rueful smile. ‘It might not be tonight...’
‘Then when?’
She sighed. ‘Your hysteria is beginning to get on my nerves. You’ve waited millennia, Sal. A few more days are hardly going to make much difference.’
‘A few more days! But what will happen to him in that time? The Parzupheim could contaminate his mind!’
Sofia laughed dryly. ‘You have no need to worry on that score.’
Salamiel frowned. ‘How can you be so sure?’
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug.
‘What are you planning?’ The question was delivered in a low voice. ‘You are planning something, aren’t you?’
Sofia merely widened her smile into a predatory, reptile grin. ‘Fear not, my lovely. You are still a major part of my design. In the meantime, concentrate on Lily Winter. She should be the focus of your energies at this time.’
At dusk, Tamara Trewlynn drove in her car to the lay-by near the cliff path to Mermaid’s Cove. Delmar sat beside her, his expression blank. Before leaving her cottage, Tamara had taken the precaution of giving him a cup of strong, sweet tea, into which she’d stirred a liberal dose of the herbal powder Barbelo had given her. She had guessed that the rest of the Pelleth were now highly suspicious of her. It could be no coincidence that the Conclave had appeared to be inactive over the past few days. Phone calls from Meggie had been non-existent. Most likely, they were being highly active, but had chosen to exclude Tamara from their work. They must be preparing their sacred sites by now for the advent of Shemyaza. Tamara did not care what the Pelleth did. She felt that she and Barbelo possessed far more power than them and must be a greater lure for the Shining One. Meggie had probably also noticed, or been informed, of a change in Delmar’s behaviour. Now, he was entirely Tamara’s creature. She had primed him with talk of Shemyaza, and subdued his instinctive fears. ‘You will become the oracle of the Sun Chief,’ she told him. ‘Do not be afraid.’
Whether Delmar was impressed by this news was hard to fathom, but at least he had kept his silence for her, and obeyed her commands without question. His mother had been a bit of a problem, because she’d tried to prevent Delmar spending so much time away from home. No doubt Meggie had told the Tremayne woman her suspicions. Still, Delmar had been used to absolute freedom, and in his passive, yet relentless way had managed to slip
away from the house whenever he wanted to.
The wind grabbed angrily at the land as Tamara led Delmar down to the cove. By now, the lizard guardians were familiar with her, and when she showed them the talisman, quickly stood aside to let her pass. Even though the light was fast fading from the sky, the cove was clearly visible, as if the waves themselves glowed with a spectral light that illuminated the land. Tamara’s awareness was heightened because of the preparations she’d made earlier, and she could see easily the slim form of a woman standing upon the wet sand, her hair blowing around her head. Tamara addressed the image. ‘Ishtahar. It is I, your mistress.’
The figure turned towards her, and fixed her with a sad, wide-eyed stare. Tamara beckoned Delmar. ‘Go into the cave beneath the cliff, Del. Lie down upon the rock and wait for my summons.’
The boy obeyed without uttering a sound.
Words whispered inside Tamara’s head. ‘You are a fool! He is not Daniel, and you will never be me!’
Tamara dismissed the unwelcome presence from her mind. ‘You’re not her either, phantom!’ The thought-form of Ishtahar possessed more consciousness than she would have liked.
Turning her back on the forlorn image, Tamara walked towards the convulsing waves. It was true; the sea was glowing. There were shapes twisting in the breakers, lights moving beneath the churning surface. Tamara held out her arms to the elements. The wind lunged at her with hungry caresses, as if it would tear the clothes from her body. She could hear spirit-voices in its whistling thunder, voices from the sea that hailed from the lost temples of Lyonesse, long submerged beneath the waves. The spirits could smell Shemyaza’s proximity. They were wild with desire for him, as she was. The restlessness and urgency of the ocean reached out to Tamara, filled her with a sense of power and command. Her clawed fingers clutched at the wild air. I am the Sea Princess, Seference’s daughter, more powerful than Ishtahar ever was! The thought-form behind her was an empty shell, chained to this fierce shore, while she was strong and free, the channel of potential.
Tamara drew her spray-soaked robe over her head, and with an eerie cry ran naked into the waves.
Aninka and Emma sat together in their favourite drawing room. All was silent, but for the crackle of flames in the hearth and the slow tick of a grandfather clock in a corner of the room. Aninka sat on the sofa, her legs curled beneath her. She stared into the fire. Emma sat in an armchair to the side of the sofa, reading a popular novel and smoking a cigarette. The silence between the two women had been comfortable, but now Emma sensed that a tension had come sneaking into the room. Aninka had not spoken about the remark that Shemyaza had addressed to her over dinner, but Emma suspected it had upset her greatly. Gradually, Emma’s eyes were drawn away from the page, to keep Aninka in the periphery of her vision. Aninka’s relaxed, contemplative posture had stiffened. Now, she stared at the flames with wide, almost terrified eyes.
Emma put down her book. ‘Are you feeling OK, Ninka?’
Aninka shot her a furtive glance. ‘Yes... I’m fine.’
Emma picked up her book again and pretended to read it. Presently, Aninka got up and went to the French windows. With a jerky movement, she cast aside the long drapes. Emma watched her peering out into the wet, stormy darkness. ‘You’re not all right, are you? What’s wrong?’
Aninka curled her arms about her breasts. ‘I... I’m not sure.’ She shivered and rubbed her arms. ‘I feel cold, sort of anxious.’
Emma watched her warily as she began to pace up and down in front of the window. ‘Come back over here by the fire. You probably feel upset because of what’s going on in the house today. Why not have a drink to calm your nerves?’
Aninka shook her head. ‘No...’ She suddenly stopped pacing. ‘What’s that? Can you hear it?’
Emma listened. She could hear the clock, the flames, and a host of faint noises coming from various corners of the house, but nothing unusual. ‘What can you hear?’
Aninka pushed her hair behind her ears, lowered her head. ‘It’s a wailing sound... very faint. You must be able to hear it! Come here!’
Emma stood up and went to Aninka’s side, reached up to put an arm around the Grigori woman’s shoulders. ‘I can’t hear anything.’
‘It’s like whale-song,’ Aninka said, and wriggled away from Emma’s arm. She walked slowly back to the windows and Emma followed. Their reflections looked like ghosts hanging in the dark. ‘I feel... haunted,’ Aninka said in a low voice. ‘Someone just walked over my grave.’ She laughed nervously. Her hand snaked out and undid the lock on the window door. Before Emma could stop her, she’d opened it and stepped outside. Cold air rolled into the room, and filled it with a rank, salty stench. It was like the sea had entered the house. Emma ran to the window.
‘Ninka, come in! You’ll freeze out there! What the hell are you doing?’
Aninka said nothing, but Emma could see her tall, dark shape walking swiftly across the lawn in the direction of the cliff. Cursing, Emma ran after her and grabbed hold of her arm. ‘Stop this! Come back to the house!’ Had Aninka gone mad?
Aninka brushed Emma off, easily disengaging herself from the woman’s grasp. ‘The sea is ebbing and flowing within me,’ she said in a strange, cracked voice. ‘The tides pull me.’
‘Ninka!’ Emma was worried now. Her strength was no match for a Grigori woman. She knew she couldn’t drag Aninka back inside on her own. What was out here? Emma glanced around herself fearfully, but could see nothing more threatening than the furiously tossed branches of the rhododendrons nearby.
Then, Aninka uttered a peculiar groan, and broke away from Emma. She ran down into the rhododendron grove, towards the cliff, her long legs devouring the distance effortlessly. Emma ran after her. As she emerged from the grove, she saw Aninka scrambling over the crumbled wall that provided the only barrier against the sheer drop to the cove beneath. ‘No!’ Perhaps the panicked tone to her scream caused Aninka to waver. Emma leapt over the wall and with all the strength she possessed, enfolded Aninka in a tight embrace and threw both of them backward with the weight of her body. They fell heavily, landing upon broken rubble. Emma was afraid she’d broken bones in the fall, but when Aninka crawled away from her, found she was able to get up without pain. Aninka was on all fours before her, staring at the ground. Emma squatted down beside her. ‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’
Aninka looked up at her, her eyes glazed. ‘I... I don’t know. Something called me.’ She shook her head. ‘I feel sick!’
‘You could have killed yourself.’
‘I know.’ Aninka’s body jerked and she retched.
Emma looked out at the place where Aninka had crawled through the broken wall. The sea looked very odd this evening, almost as if it was lit up from deep below. ‘It’s a strange night,’ she said. ‘The sea looks like it’s glowing.’
Aninka got shakily to her feet, but seemed nervous of approaching the wall.
‘Great Shem!’ Emma’s oath was uttered in a low, shocked voice. ‘Ninka, what’s that?’
Reluctantly, Aninka came to stand beside her at the wall. They looked down upon the cove, where the sea sucked halfway up the sand. The sky was dark, the moon occluded by clouds, yet they could see through the spectral twilight as if every rock and grain of sand exuded its own sick light.
Something was crawling up the shore from the sea, crawling on its belly like the first primal fish that had struggled to its evolution on the land. Weed and foam plastered its flesh and its long, bedraggled hair. It was a woman, but no ordinary female. Emma felt as if they were looking upon some primordial Eve, a proto-woman clawing her way from the womb of the sea. Behind her in the flashing waves, the heads of seals bobbed and dove, and other more human-looking creatures rode the surf. They looked like mermen — half man, half fish — huge erections thrusting forth from the place where their barnacled tails began.
‘They are oanes,’ Aninka murmured.
‘Whats?’ Emma swallowed thickly.
 
; ‘Sea people.’
Emma shuddered, filled with a sense of deja vu. She remembered how she’d felt at the High Place in Little Moor as she’d watched Peverel Othman begin his invocations to the Ahriman. She felt the same way now. Something terrible was about to happen. She grabbed Aninka’s arm. ‘Inside the house! Now!’
This time, Aninka did not fight her.
On the beach below, Tamara lay panting upon the sand. Her wild euphoria had ebbed. Now, she felt exhausted. She could hear the call of the seals and the oanes behind her, and sensed their frantic excitement. She herself was filled with the knowledge that soon Shemyaza would come to her. All around her, the shore vibrated with the energy of imminent transformation. Tamara rolled onto her back. She remembered being swallowed by the waves and the touch of slithering male hands upon her. She remembered riding the furious surf with a slick, cold body clasped between her legs, its icy, inhuman phallus buried deep within her. Behind her, further up the shore, she sensed the thought-form of Ishtahar tugging at its psychic chains in panic. Struggle on, feeble maiden. Soon, the great earth serpent would awake. Tamara knew that when it did, she would be a goddess. She would ride its power. Laughing.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fall, Sweet Sacrifice
Once the ritual of coronation ended, the Parzupheim seemed far more relaxed. They believed, Daniel realised, that Shemyaza was now wholly theirs; their Messiah, the saviour of their world. Enniel took Shem into an antechamber of the temple, presumably to divest him of his ceremonial garb. In the main room, lights bloomed dimly around the walls, and the Parzupheim filed out into another room. Daniel and Sofia were left alone. He sensed the woman was considering what she should say to him.
She thinks she has my measure, he thought, but she’s still not wholly clear about it.
Sofia grinned at him, in a manner designed to be confidential and understanding. ‘Be kind to Shemyaza tonight,’ she said, laying a proprietorial hand on Daniel’s shoulder. ‘If his behaviour is peculiar, indulge him.’