Scenting Hallowed Blood

  Their thought contact was like the brush of feathers. She still loved him, though she thought he’d betrayed her. She’d known he’d returned to Kharsag, yet he’d sent her no word, not of comfort or friendship. In turn, he still partly blamed her for what had happened to him. She had seduced him in the corn, changed his life and his destiny, doomed him, but looking at her now, he realised he still loved her, and her beauty was an ache in his mind and heart. She was no longer a lissom maid, but a woman of grace and power. In that moment of brief contact, their contract was made. It was inevitable.

  Their meetings were more clandestine than ever before. Shemyaza raged against this. He had known many women during his sojourn in the desert and resented having to creep down the mountains like a crafty lizard to take his pleasure. Ishtahar was frightened of the power of his feelings, his bitterness and frustration. He seemed both more and less human to her now. The shining prince she had loved amid the corn had hardened into a relentless idol of bronze.

  Covertly, he made contact once again with the tribespeople of the desert wilderness, who still worshipped him as a god. He incited them to war against the gentle lowland folk, crowning his monstrous sons with iron and blood. They were known and feared as the Nephilim, the hybrid sons of angels, ferocious and heartless warriors who destroyed the farms, the temples, the astronomical observatories and the sacred gardens. They raped women and devoured children. They bathed themselves in human blood.

  Eventually, Anu’s viziers realised who was behind the depredations and Shemyaza had to take sanctuary in a mountain fortress, which he charged his sons to build for him. Fearing for Ishtahar’s safety, Shemyaza had the Nephilim enter her father’s house at night, kill her brothers, and bring her to him. In his sanctuary, they would be safe. Djinn guarded the narrow, treacherous paths that led to the fortress, and Nephilim hid among the rocks, ready to stone and impale any interlopers.

  But Ishtahar was horrified by what Shemyaza had become and what he planned for their people. She knew that the Elders beyond the stars, with whom she had always communed, abhorred her involvement in Shemyaza’s schemes. She could no longer reach them in her mind. For the space of a moon, she fought her conscience, then, beneath the cloak of a moonless night, managed to flee the fortress.

  For many days, Ishtahar struggled across the cruel mountains. Swooning, she staggered into Kharsag, and there redeemed herself in the eyes of the Elders by betraying Shemyaza’s whereabouts to Anu. Her heart was torn by love and bitter disappointment. The Seraphim took her back to the house of her father, and here she was shut into a room, from which all light was barred.

  Alone, by the feeble flame of a tiny lamp, she wept for her beloved. How could their passion have become so warped, so blighted? Her family scorned her, and called her a murderess. It was no longer safe for her to leave the house.

  As Ishtahar wept, so the sky rained tears. Her grief mirrored Anu’s anger. He sought to purge the land of evil, and had the angels point the sonic instruments, which they used in their agriculture and to control the weather, towards the sky. The sun was hidden behind a shroud of rumbling clouds and the crops sickened in the fields. The rain fell and fell, until the land was flooded, and the Nephilim armies who foraged there were washed away.

  The lowlands lay under water for the span of two moons. In his fury, Anu destroyed not only the lands below, but the settlement of his own people. The fabulous terraces of Kharsag were scourged by the torrents of a fierce deluge. The black domes of glass, the spreading fields of fecund crops, the glittering waterfalls, and shady arbours, were blanketed in mud. In the lowlands, many perished, but for the patriarch Noah and his family, whom Anu elected to spare. Through them, he planned to restart his experiments with cultivation, once the flood had passed.

  Shemyaza and his monstrous generals were routed by Anu’s warriors. The fallen renegade was taken alive and dragged, bound, to Kharsag, which lay in ruins. Ishtahar also survived the wars and the flood and was once again taken prisoner by the Anannage. Wary of her power, they interrogated her, and punished her, by forcing her to watch Shemyaza’s execution. After that, they incarcerated her in a temple, where she spent the rest of her life lamenting and uttering dire prophecies. Sometimes, when the moon was dark and caustic rain fell from the sky, bringing echoes of the flood, she would be let out upon the roof of the temple, where she would hold out her arms to the hidden stars, and the place where the soul of her lover hung for eternity; Orion, Shemyaza’s celestial dungeon.

  Shemyaza hung in the clouds, watching this final chapter of his tragic history. He saw Ishtahar, a gaunt, middle-aged woman, with streaks of grey in her flowing hair, hold out her arms to him, but she could not see him, nor hear him call her name. The rain soaked his wings until they were too heavy to hold him aloft and he fell, roaring, into a roiling torrent that carried him out to sea. For millennia he was tossed by crashing waves until he beheld ahead of him a wondrous sight. He saw a coastline, and its colours were red, gold and green. The slick cliff-face looked like a great serpent hugging the land. Here, Shemyaza shot out of the waves and flexed his wings. Reborn, he burst up into the sky like a comet and hung over the undulating cliffs. As he flew towards them, he saw the shape of a great lion looking out to sea, a natural simulacrum in the rock. Drawn to this, he landed between the lion’s paws. The image of the sphinx was an ancient memory of his people, rooted in the time even before Kharsag. His ancestors had originated in the place of the sphinx. As he gazed at the lion’s face, its eyes glowed a dull red. Its voice boomed out. ‘Have you come to sing the lament for Serapis?’ Between its paws, an enormous gateway materialised, causing the rock to crack and groan. Its pillars were scored with arcane carvings: hieroglyphs older than the most ancient of the pharaohs, a code of triangles, circles, curling lines and dots.

  Shemyaza could not sing the lament. He was still too full of bitterness and anger, incapable of grief or passion.

  The lion guardian uttered a low, rumbling growl that sounded as if the rocks of the earth were clashing together far underground. ‘I see into your soul, Shemyaza. Your heart is touched with the blackness of frost. You cannot enter the gate.’

  ‘Can I not?’ Shemyaza did not care about the gateway, or the underworld he knew lay behind it, but he resented the critical tone of the guardian’s words. He thought he would use the force of his anger to blast the gate apart. He would go down into the underworld, take the serpent by the throat, and throttle the life from it, awake or asleep. Leaning forward, he placed a hand upon one of the stone pillars.

  The guardian roared in rage and its eyes spat bolts of crimson flame. Shemyaza was thrown backwards by the blast, back into the sea. He uttered a final cry of rage and hatred, before the waves closed over him.

  ‘Wake, Shining One. Awake!’

  Shemyaza opened his eyes. He was lying flat on his back on the cold, hard sand of Mermaid’s Cove. His clothes were soaked through and covered in seaweed and fetid scum. Above him the sky was steely grey with a sullen dawn. Sea birds circled and screamed. A woman was leaning over him, swathed in a dark cloak with a hood. Her fair hair hung forward in ragged curls. She placed a soft hand upon his shoulder.

  ‘Fear not, Holy One,’ she said. ‘For I am here.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Covening

  Daniel awoke and knew that Shem had gone. A corrupt sweetness lined the back of his throat, a taste of nightmare. In his dreams, he had flown above the world, his shoulder blades adorned with powerful wings. The freedom of flight had been exhilarating, but then someone had soared up behind him and cut off his wings with enormous shears. He’d fallen to earth, showered in his own blood. Now, he sat up abruptly in the bed and found himself alone. There was a space in his reality that Shemyaza had once filled, more than a simple absence from the room.

  He got out of bed and dressed himself hurriedly. He would have to check the house and garden before raising an alarm, but in his heart he knew he would find nothing.

 
Daniel rebuked himself as he hastened along the silent corridors of High Crag. He should have taken Sofia’s advice last night and been gentle with Shem, let him settle into his new role. Instead, he had carped and nagged and bullied. Shem had been angry and confused. He must have lain awake thinking about the argument. Now, he had walked out.

  Could Shem have gone to Salamiel? Perhaps Sofia had been lying in wait, aware of the quarrel, pushing it along with her will and her desire.

  He went to the drawing-room, where French windows led to the garden. The colour of the light outside looked unreal; greenish purple. Steeling himself, Daniel forced himself to open the windows and step beyond them. The dawn was attempting to fist its way through the dull, oppressive sky. The air felt strange against Daniel’s skin, alive with unseen presences. He sensed that Shem had recently come this way. It was even possible he’d decided to go down to the beach. Had he chosen to fulfil his destiny after all? Perhaps, resolved, he had walked along the shore to the lion guardian of the underworld. And maybe the gate had opened to him, and he had been swallowed by the land. Daniel shivered. As Shem’s vizier and psychic earthing rod, he should have been with him. As it was, a senseless quarrel might have propelled Shem alone, in a rage, into danger.

  Daniel was drawn to approach the cliff edge and walked down the sloping lawn and through the rustling, glistening rhododendrons. As he emerged onto the mossy path beyond, he saw a tall figure limned against the metallic sky. It had to be Shem. Daniel paused, horrified. Shem was leaning forward, almost as if he was contemplating throwing himself over the edge. Daniel knew he must not cry out or dash forward. He must approach cautiously and, when he was within Shem’s earshot, utter a few soothing words. The wind made eerie noises, like distant screams or the cry of birds. Overhead, the clouds boiled as if electrified by an exotic storm. Daniel saw Shem raise his arms to the sky. A piercing, hideous shriek echoed out. Daniel instinctively crouched down and put his hands over his ears. The air was full of invisible wings; beating, clattering, whispering. When Daniel dared to look up, it seemed as if Shem himself was winged, poised to take flight. Before Daniel could move or utter a sound, Shem let himself drop forward, arms still outflung, and fell from the edge of the cliff.

  Panic stricken, Daniel ran towards the wall and clambered over its shifting stones. He threw himself down on his belly and peered down the side of the cliff, sure he would see Shem’s smashed body lying on the beach below. But Shem had vanished. The sand below was sepulchrally white, and empty.

  Daniel rested his cheek upon the sandy turf and expelled a groaning sigh. Shem had taken flight. And Daniel could not follow him.

  At first, Daniel wasn’t sure that Enniel believed him when he related what he’d seen in the garden. It was only when Sofia entered his study and seemed confident of Daniel’s story that he started to look worried.

  ‘We must send people down to the cove,’ Enniel said. ‘There’s a chance Shemyaza will turn up there.’

  Sofia shrugged. ‘It’s out of our hands now, Enniel. Why worry? What’s started is started. There’s nothing we can do.’

  ‘And what exactly has started?’ Enniel snapped.

  ‘I think you know,’ Sofia replied. ‘He has chosen to enter the underworld.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous!’ Enniel blustered. ‘He’s had no preparation. He’s not ready.’

  ‘He’s as ready as he’ll ever be, I’m sure,’ Sofia said.

  ‘If he approaches the serpent now, he will most likely be destroyed.’

  Sofia laughed coldly. ‘Oh, Enniel, face reality. Shemyaza is no ordinary being. What would burn you or I might simply be the heat of a lover’s body to him.’

  Daniel was unnerved by Sofia’s apparent lack of concern. He had a nagging feeling she knew exactly where Shem was, and that it wasn’t in the underworld. He wanted to speak to her alone. Sofia, perhaps sensing this, made it clear she had no desire for private conversation. When Daniel asked her outright if they could talk, she spoke of having things to do.

  ‘Then I shall speak in front of Enniel,’ he said.

  ‘Speak about what?’ Enniel asked.

  Sofia gave Daniel a hard look. ‘Yes, my dear. About what? Shem’s safety, or even that of your friends?’

  ‘Which friends?’ Enniel demanded, but Daniel understood her meaning.

  ‘Shemyaza is not where you think he is,’ Sofia said coldly. ‘Of that I can assure you in all sincerity.’

  ‘I’d like to know what you’re talking about,’ Enniel said.

  Sofia expelled another light, tinkling laugh. ‘Well, I suppose I’d have to tell you sooner or later.’ She fixed Daniel with an appraising stare. ‘The fact is, I have the Winter twins in safe keeping. Daniel obviously thinks I’ve spirited Shemyaza away to increase my collection. This is far from the case. It is my opinion that Shemyaza has taken matters into his own hands and has decided to act independently of any of us.’

  Daniel was confused by her frankness. She had not mentioned Salamiel but did not seem worried that Daniel might. What if he recounted to Enniel all that she had said to Shem and himself in the garden the day before? He couldn’t understand the woman. She twisted and turned like an eel.

  ‘I wish you’d told me about the twins before,’ Enniel said, a little lamely.

  ‘Why?’ Sofia shrugged. ‘To be honest, the Winters really are insignificant in the scheme of things.’ She sat down on the leather sofa. ‘They’re very upset by all that’s happened, so I thought it best to keep them away from the centre of operations. They’re staying with a friend of mine nearby, quite safe.’

  Daniel hoped Enniel would not accept this glib explanation, and was gratified when he asked, ‘So when exactly did you come across the twins? The last we knew they’d been abandoned in London, at the mercy of some rather sinister characters.’

  Sofia was not ruffled by the question. ‘Well, they were of no use to the people who were looking for Shemyaza, and were, in effect, overlooked. All I did was, on a hunch, send a couple of my people up to London the following day to sniff around the Assembly Rooms. Lily and Owen were still there — terrified and confused — but unharmed. I must admit I felt sorry for them. I think Lily Winter has had more than enough of the shenanigans that follows Shemyaza around. She begged me for peace and quiet, and I was happy to help her.’

  Daniel knew that most of what Sofia said was untrue. He longed to relate, in a cool and cutting manner, all she had said to him concerning Salamiel and the twins. He wanted to expose her completely, and force her to answer probing questions from Enniel, but he was afraid. If she’d been cagey about Lily and Owen, he would have felt more confident. But it was as if she was daring him to initiate combat. Daniel had no doubt that, if he did, he’d only incur terrible retribution. So he kept quiet, and had to endure the sense of triumphant smugness that emanated from her mind. Still, he was fairly sure Shemyaza wasn’t with Salamiel and the twins. In that case, Sofia’s explanation seemed reasonable. He had gone off alone, either to fulfil his destiny or to escape it. Unless the woman had taken him somewhere else. Daniel couldn’t see past her psychic armour to determine that. He realised he had to accept he could do nothing at the moment. As soon as was able, he’d attempt to make contact with Lily. Perhaps if he had an ally, he could find a way to penetrate Sofia’s armour.

  Enniel’s staff spent the whole morning searching the coastline and surrounding countryside for Shemyaza. Most of the Parzupheim had stayed overnight at High Crag, and the two who hadn’t lived relatively nearby and could be recalled immediately. At noon, Enniel convened another meeting, and Daniel was required to relate to the Parzupheim all that he had seen that morning. He elected not to mention the argument he and Shem had had the night before.

  The Parzupheim seemed suspicious of Daniel, as if he was responsible for Shem’s disappearance. ‘You assume too much of his mantle for yourself.’

  Daniel endured this accusation without comment, because he did not want the Parzupheim to know that S
hemyaza had tried to pass responsibility to him.

  Another spoke up. ‘Perhaps you drove him away.’

  As this tallied with Daniel’s punishing thoughts about the quarrel, he was suffused with a sense of paranoia. His voice faltered. ‘It’s not my fault! There was nothing I could do.’

  ‘As his vizier, it was your duty to be alert for him, to help him at all times.’

  ‘So, you were asleep at the time Shemyaza left the house?’

  Daniel felt as if he was fighting for breath. ‘I thought he was sleeping too.’

  ‘Ah. I see. And, in the garden, he just disappeared before your eyes?’

  ‘I told you,’ Daniel said miserably. ‘It looked like he jumped from the cliff, but when I ran to the edge, there was no sign of him. Anywhere!’ As he listened to his own voice, Daniel came to the quiet conclusion that Shem wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity in a physical sense. Regardless of his suspicions concerning Sofia and her true role in Shemyaza’s development, he had seen, with his own eyes, Shem plunge into astral flight, and it appeared he had taken his earthly flesh with him. That could only mean he’d entered the dreamtime of the serpent... surely?

  Sofia watched him through slitted eyes, although she deigned to make little contribution to the debate. Daniel heard himself become increasingly defensive, which inspired certain members of the Parzupheim to spice their attack with ever more causticity. A few, including Enniel, rallied to Daniel’s defence and suggested that the Parzupheim’s attitude to Shemyaza the previous day might have impelled him to act alone. This remark provoked a hot retort, and soon several seated around the table were blaming each other for Shem’s disappearance.

  Daniel, still under attack from another quarter, couldn’t prevent himself from raising his voice. ‘None of you know what the hell’s going on!’ he yelled. ‘You with your stuffy rituals, legacies and histories! That’s all you care about! It’s all you have, and believe me, it doesn’t mean anything! It doesn’t relate to what’s happening now!’