‘Do what you like, but keep me out of it.’ Daniel began to move towards the door. It seemed miles away.
‘Do you want a drink?’ Cressida asked him, as the hot, clawing atmosphere of the club embraced them again.
He nodded. ‘Yes. Something strong.’
Cressida took him back to Letiel, and excuses were offered concerning faintness, being too hot, a ‘bug’.
‘What happened?’ Letiel asked him, her eyes knowing. She was not to be deluded.
‘Nothing. I just felt weird.’
Cressida came back with Owen. Daniel wasn’t sure whether he was pleased to see him or not. Owen handed Daniel a glass. ‘Drink that and get your jacket. We’re going.’ Even though he didn’t raise his voice that much, Daniel could hear him perfectly despite the music.
‘You can’t drive!’ Daniel yelled, his own voice diminutive beneath the din.
‘I’m fine. Come on.’
Cressida and Letiel accompanied them to the door. ‘See you soon?’ Letiel asked Daniel.
He nodded, ‘Yes, I expect so.’ He gripped her arm briefly.
‘Call me,’ she said. ‘Owen has the number.’
‘Of course he has.’
She chose to ignore the caustic innuendo. ‘I mean it. Call me.’
Daniel smiled weakly. He saw Cressida reach up and put her arms around Owen’s neck, her face raised for a kiss. Owen stooped a little, offered her his cheek, then patted her face. ‘Bye, Cress. See you soon.’
Outside in the city, it was autumn cold, as if the unnatural warmth that smothered Little Moor’s nights didn’t extend beyond the village itself. Daniel felt drunk, although Owen appeared to have sobered up very quickly. He strode ahead, perhaps angry. Daniel couldn’t speak to him. The images he’d received from the silver bracelet still echoed round his head, which otherwise felt empty and dark; receding echoes of sight and sound.
The drive back to Little Moor was completed in utter silence, not even a tape to break the night. Owen stared straight ahead, lost in his own thoughts. Daniel was thinking, it is over, it never started. It is over. The whole evening had seemed a travesty of enjoyment. All that meaningless waffle in the night club, the sordid incident with Cressida. What’s happening to me? The ability to know things seemed preposterous, somehow false and staged. It had been as if someone else had put the words into his mouth, someone who really possessed the ability, who stood hidden nearby, transmitting messages as Daniel gabbled out his fragments of information. He wanted to talk to Owen about it, but feared ridicule. Yet wasn’t it Owen who’d suggested Daniel was psychic? Perhaps it was some freak psychological aberration playing itself out now, his desire for Owen made tangible by the appearance of being what Owen wanted. The silence was too hard to break. Daniel dared not violate it.
Owen pulled up in the lane outside Low Mede. Daniel opened the car door. The engine purred to itself, Owen stared ahead. Daniel wanted to cry, ‘What have I done? Tell me!’ He knew that if he let Owen go now without saying anything, the chance, however slim and fragile it was, would be lost for ever. He looked at the house. There was a dim light burning behind the curtains of his father’s study, but otherwise the house was in darkness. Verity would probably be in the lounge watching TV without the light on. Normally, on a Friday night, Owen would come back to Low Mede to scrounge sandwiches, drink coffee, lounge in the attic room, smoking joints. Was this ritual forbidden now?
‘Are you coming in?’ Daniel asked.
Owen glanced at him. ‘You mean you want me to?’
Daniel shrugged. ‘It’s not that late.’
Owen sighed. ‘I don’t know, Daniel.’
‘Oh, suit yourself!’ Daniel was filled with a brief wave of anger. ‘Suddenly, we’re not friends. OK, if that’s the way you want it.’
He got out of the car and slammed the door. As he walked, not too quickly, up the drive, he heard Owen pull the car onto the gravel. The headlights went off as Daniel put his key in the door.
‘Daniel.’
He said nothing but let Owen follow him into the house. Immediately, they both assumed their habitual Friday night behaviour of sneaking as quietly as possible to the kitchen, in order to avoid confrontation with any other members of the household.
Daniel went directly to fill the kettle. Owen gently shut the door, standing just inside the room. He lit a cigarette.
‘Did Cressida tell you what happened?’ Daniel asked.
Owen ventured forward and sat on the edge of the table, his back to Daniel. ‘A bit.’
‘You seem really interested!’
Owen rubbed his face with one hand. ‘I am, Daniel. I just can’t think at the moment.’
‘You didn’t have to pick me up this afternoon. We didn’t have to go to Cresterfield. Don’t punish me, O.’
Owen looked over his shoulder. ‘I’m not. To be honest, I don’t know why I came to the school. I shouldn’t have. I don’t even know if it was my idea.’
‘What do you mean?’
Owen shook his head. ‘Nothing.’ He stood up again, stubbed out his cigarette, hardly smoked, in a saucer on the dresser. ‘Look, it’s senseless me being here.’ Daniel saw him take a deep breath before he turned round. ‘The truth is, I can’t be friends any more, Daniel. It just won’t work. I’ve wrecked it, not you. When I picked you up today, I wanted to say things, but it was obvious I couldn’t. It’s unfair on you. I’m sorry if you had a bad time tonight.’
‘So this is it then, is it? You walk out of here and we never speak again?’ Daniel managed to laugh. ‘I can’t believe you! You’re so fucking selfish!’
‘OK, you want the truth, then have it. I’d rather not speak to you again than have to watch you go off with someone like Letty or Cress. I can’t do it, Daniel. It’s in me to want you, and it’s obvious you feel differently. If I hadn’t been there tonight, you would have got together with Letty. Every time I looked at you she was all over you. Whenever our eyes met, you looked as if you were scared of what I might think. I was in your way. I took you out to dinner to talk about this, but I could tell you were dreading I’d say something. So I didn’t. The look on your face when I picked you up from school said it all. It was horror, Daniel. I embarrassed you, didn’t I? You think that makes me feel good? You think that makes me want to sit here and make small talk with you?’ Owen pulled a sour face and swiped the air with his hand. ‘You see? You see?’
Daniel digested this outburst, unable for a moment, to say anything in response. The kettle grunted and whined in the silence of the room. Owen sat down on the table again and put his face in his hands. Daniel wanted to go to him, hold him, but it wasn’t that easy. There was a barrier to be breached. ‘O, Wednesday night...’ he began.
Owen groaned and interrupted. ‘Please, don’t. It’s too grotesque!’ He hugged himself defensively.
Daniel went up beside him, put his hand on Owen’s arm. He wanted to offer reassurance, encouragement, but a maelstrom of images silenced his words. Heavy breathing, but of terror, not desire. Owen’s taut body, his hammering heart, his hunger to plunder and invade held back. As well as this, a pitiful ache of longing, of feelings impossible to articulate, a sense of history, of timelessness, a silver reed of connection stretching back and back into the black, diamond studded night of eternity and magic, the earth, the power, a circle. Then, the sister. She: hanging there in the spangled sky, a flame of whiteness, the goddess. He, her acolyte. The only one. Owen was virgin, but for her. A severed umbilical cord, waving free, emanated from her belly. But she was not distressed by this. It was Owen who was drifting alone.
Daniel withdrew his hand, flexed his fingers. They felt frozen. ‘O, I had no idea,’ he said.
Owen looked at him. There were tears on his face, his eyes were red.
‘About Lily,’ Daniel said.
‘You know about that?’ Owen asked.
He nodded. ‘Yes. It is inside you and speaks to me. There was no need to pretend the other night. You should have
told me. It wouldn’t have mattered. I wasn’t there to be impressed. It was my first time too, remember.’ He took Owen’s hands in his own, pulled them away from Owen’s face. ‘I don’t want Letty, or anyone like her. I feel the same as you do. You’re so stupid, O. You’ve deafed me out all evening. I wondered what I’d done.’
Owen managed a shaky laugh. ‘So I get a second chance?’
‘You haven’t used up the first one yet.’
As they kissed, the kettle clicked off. With Owen sitting on the table, they were the same height. Owen wrapped his legs around Daniel’s thighs, pulled him closer. Daniel heard a door open somewhere else in the house, far away. It was Owen who broke the kiss, but he didn’t push Daniel away. ‘Verity might come in.’
The thought slightly excited Daniel. ‘So what?’
‘So she certainly won’t be pleased for us. Come on, things are difficult enough with her as it is.’
Daniel pulled Owen close against him, put his face against Owen’s throat. ‘I don’t care.’ He pressed his tongue against Owen’s skin, tasted salt.
Owen murmured in pleasure, wrapped his arms tightly around Daniel, as Daniel gently sucked the skin.
The door opened and Verity walked into the room. Owen and Daniel both looked at her, frozen. She did not appear to notice they were embracing or, if she did, paid no attention. ‘Is Raven in here?’
Daniel thought she looked drunk. Her eyes were slightly unfocussed, her normally perfectly arranged hair ragged round her shoulders. She had the appearance of a woman who’d just come from a lover’s embrace herself.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. He could feel Owen panicking to push him away, but refused to allow it. Verity’s unconcern was fascinating, if bizarre.
‘Raven! Raven!’ Verity inspected all the chairs pushed under the kitchen table, even the one beside Daniel and Owen. ‘Ah, here you are!’
She dragged the cat off the chair. He seemed to spill over her arms like an enormous fur coat. Daniel felt slightly unnerved that the animal had remained hidden and overheard his conversation with Owen, then chided himself for such a ridiculous thought.
‘I’m going to bed, now,’ Verity said. ‘Can you remember to lock up, Daniel, when Owen goes?’
‘Owen’s not leaving,’ Daniel said. ‘He’s staying with me tonight.’
‘Right. I’ll do the bolts, then.’
‘Are you OK, Vez?’
She looked puzzled, a little disorientated, as she swayed towards the door, carrying the enormous cat. ‘Hmm? Oh, yes, fine.’
‘Where’s Dad?’
‘Oh, he came in some time ago. Probably in bed.’ She stared at the handle on the door, as if wondering how she could open it with her arms full of cat. Owen disentangled himself from Daniel and went to open it for her. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Good night.’
Owen stared at Daniel in mute shock as Verity left the room. Daniel shrugged.
‘What is she on?’ Owen asked.
Daniel laughed, shook his head. ‘Fuck knows. I think she’s been drinking.’
‘I can’t believe that just happened. It did happen, didn’t it?’
Daniel nodded, grinned. ‘I wonder what she’s been up to tonight? You don’t suppose she’s had a man in or something?’ He laughed. ‘Your friend, Peverel Othman, was chatting quite cosily with her the other night. Do you think he might have been round?’
Owen’s face fell, and Daniel perceived immediately he’d touched a sensitive spot. It was because of Lily. Of course. ‘I’m sorry, O. I didn’t mean to...’
‘It’s OK. Forget it. Othman seems to get in everywhere, like smoke or a bad smell. It’s possible he was here. I wouldn’t put it past him.’ He smiled warily. ‘I expect you know, with your intuitive senses, that he’s been after Lily.’
‘Sort of, yes.’
‘I need to talk to you about him, but not yet.’ He came back to Daniel, took his hands in his own. ‘Tonight is ours. I want to forget Othman, Lily, everything. Just for a while.’
In the attic room, Owen and Daniel undressed in moonlight. There was a reverence to their disrobing that reminded Daniel of their nights at the High Place, only this was more sedate, contained. The previous Wednesday, they had clawed at one another, fully clothed, as if the clothes themselves could provide a safe distance. Here, there were no barriers. Naked, they sat down on the floor, cross-legged, their knees touching, holding hands. It seemed natural to alter consciousness through controlled breathing, as Owen had instructed at the High Place, as if both were aware of the sacred aspect of what they were doing. Daniel felt a flurry of activity at the back of his brain, as if something was rustling there, waiting to take flight; an image or a sound. He opened his eyes and Owen was staring at him. ‘Something is coming through,’ Daniel said. He stood up and went to lie down on the bed, feeling a little dizzy. After a moment, Owen followed him, lay down beside him, stroked his face.
‘I can see things,’ Daniel said. ‘It feels strange. Hurts a bit. It’s like a headache or a pressure in my brain, like diving deep under water.’
‘What can you see?’
Daniel stared at the ceiling. ‘A garden. The garden. People. It’s where you come from, O. A long time ago.’ He could sense strongly that the scene he was seeing somehow belonged to Owen; Daniel was only a medium to channel the information.
‘What else?’ Owen asked.
‘Wait.’ Daniel closed his eyes, pressed the fingers of one hand against his frowning brow. ‘Listen.’ He reached out, traced the contours of Owen’s body, felt him stir beneath his hand. ‘Mountain ranges. There is another High Place, O, back in time. There are cedar trees, the lofty bright dwelling, the gardens, the valleys of fire below. It’s very beautiful. Stroke me, O. Stroke my back.’ He relaxed, surrendering to the exquisite pleasures of the caress. It was as if his eyes were still open. The colours of the landscape in bright sunlight made him want to squint. ‘There’s a woman. Very tall, dressed in a deep blue robe. She’s talking to me.’
‘What’s she saying?’ Owen’s voice was soft, coaxing.
Daniel frowned. The woman seemed to be speaking urgently, making emphatic hand gestures, yet it was like trying to decipher the noise coming from a badly tuned radio. ‘I don’t understand you,’ he said. ‘Talk slowly.’ He felt there was something she wanted desperately to tell him, something that related to Owen. ‘Give me your name,’ Daniel said, and a single word came with clarity.
Ninlil. That was her name, her was sure of it.
‘What’s she saying?’ Owen prompted. ‘Talk to me, Daniel. Tell me.’
With his eyes closed, Daniel reached up to silence Owen’s questions with his fingertips. Since she had given him her name, the woman’s voice was coming to him more clearly now. She had so much information to impart and there wasn’t much time. He nodded. ‘Yes. Yes. I will tell him.’ He took hold of one of Owen’s hands, although he did not open his eyes. ‘They came to Eden, O, and created the Garden there. The tall people, who were different. They made the reservoirs and the waterways that cultivated the land. They brought people up to the High Place from below and made them work for them.’
The information started to degrade, flashing at Daniel in a series of abrupt and garbled ideas. He spoke quickly to keep up, relaying as much as he could, knowing that some of it was streaking past his consciousness. ‘The tree of knowledge — the serpent of Eden — feathered serpent — winged man — sword of light. I see him. And her: the daughter of earth. Ishtahar — priestess — eye priestess — the sacred gate. He’s her lover. Fire. Pain. Knowledge, they gave humankind the knowledge — made things happen — created changes. The dawn of civilisation, it’s started...’ Daniel suddenly gagged, as if gasping for breath.
‘Who were they?’ Owen murmured. ‘These people. Who were they?’
Daniel twitched, shivered. ‘Many names: Anannage, Watchers, Nefilim, Grigori, Elohim, angels. They were known as many things.’
‘Bible stuff...’
‘Genesis, but not Bible stuff.’ Daniel sighed. ‘History that became legends.’ He rubbed his face and opened his eyes. ‘Where is this coming from? What does it mean?’
Owen rested his cheek against the pillow. His eyes were dark shadows. ‘I don’t know, Daniel. You’re talking about the Garden of Eden, I think.’
‘Am I? It was the Garden in Eden. Eden was a country. I know that.’ He exhaled slowly. ‘Fading now. Getting smaller. I can see this room, and I can see the garden too, but it’s fading.’
‘What about the woman — Ninlil?’
‘She’s gone. She had to go.’
Owen was silent for a moment, still stroking Daniel’s back. The skin was pimpled with cold. ‘This is for us, Daniel. It’s important, isn’t it?’
Daniel moved closer to him. ‘I think so. I don’t know. I can’t work out what’s happening. It’s very strange.’
‘Let’s get into bed. You’re cold.’
They huddled beneath the duvet. The sheet felt icy beneath them. Daniel shivered in Owen’s arms. ‘It’s getting stronger every day, O, these feelings I get, these pictures I see. It scares me.’
‘Ssh.’ Owen kissed his forehead. ‘Forget it for now.’
‘I say things without thinking, and they mean something. The girls tonight. The bracelet.’ He shuddered. ‘It was vile.’
‘It’s over now.’
‘No, it’s not. Make it go.’ He hugged Owen tightly, wanting desperately for the contact of warm skin to obliterate the crowding, threatening images that seemed eager to break through into his mind. He didn’t want to think about Cressida’s dead friend. It was nothing to do with him. His inner landscape was the garden, the history that he felt was connected with Owen. Distant pictures. The kindly Ninlil, gentle words. They could work it out together in the dark, the pictures of love. This was what his gift was for, not something to be snatched from his mind by hungry, pawing hands, imprinting disgusting thoughts and images in his head. He murmured a soft sound of encouragement as Owen’s timorous hands crept over his body. He knew Owen was afraid of this familiar yet so alien territory. He could tell that Owen thought it was like putting his hand to a mirror and finding that his fingers could slide through the glass into another world, touch the image that lay there, the image of himself. It was disorientating for him, but desire kindled courage. Owen kissed Daniel’s chest, ran his tongue over the lean stomach.