The image of Ishtahar receded in Daniel’s sight. He could see her lips moving, but could no longer hear her cries. He was filled with a heavy grief. She would live on, and the memory of this terrible day would continue through her children, and the children of her sisters, who had also taken Anannage lovers. Most of them had so far escaped Shemyaza’s fate, but later the High Lord would attempt to hunt them down and slay their hybrid children. None of it should be happening, Daniel thought. How many times had he followed his lord to the lower plains, and crouched patiently in the dust outside Ishtahar’s dwelling, wherein they had loved? Never once, during those times, had he foreseen this moment. Until the advent of Ishtahar, he had been Shemyaza’s only seer, but his master had been seduced by utterances of the woman, and had turned away from the voice he could trust. I could have warned him, Daniel thought. If I had looked into the heart of their love, I could have seen this. Too late now. Far too late...
Daniel was suddenly jerked back to reality. Othman was standing over him, panting. His face was a mask of terror and grief. ‘Illusion!’ he said. ‘Why do this to me? Why torment me when I have loved you?’ He put his bunched fists against his eyes, staggered backwards. ‘Leave me! Go!’
Louis made an uncertain movement, unsure whether to go to Othman or his son, or retreat from the room altogether.
Daniel sat up. He felt tranquil, visionary, full of the presence of haoma. It was then that he realised he was part of something inexorable and ordained. Slowly, he rose to his feet.
Othman winced as Daniel reached out to touch him. ‘It’s all right,’ Daniel said. ‘She is coming.’
‘Who? Who?’ Othman looked like a stranger, vulnerable and afraid.
Daniel shrugged and shook his head. ‘Only you can speak her name. But she’s coming.’
Daniel reached out towards Othman’s tremulous hands and took one of them in his own. He stroked the long, pale palm. ‘Look, a single thorn in the flesh is causing you pain. Let me remove it.’ Daniel placed his palm over Othman’s and a light seemed to radiate from his skin.
At that moment, he knew, Othman would be forced to recognise him as holy. Then Daniel slid his hand away, leaving Othman to stare at the tiny pool of blood which had collected in the centre of his palm.
This was the moment, then. There was a chance, like a doorway slightly ajar. Othman could reach out and open it, or shut it and walk away. He sensed that if he took Daniel in his arms now, and tomorrow night invoked something other than what he intended, the future would change. It would be so simple. Yet there was still a smell of charred flesh in his throat. Resentment wrestled with compassion. He struck Daniel’s reaching hands away. ‘No!’
Daniel cringed back, sensing the change. Whatever Othman had briefly become, it had been banished. Slowly, he sank down to sit naked upon the stone floor. He would pray. It was all he could do. Pray to the truth of a god-form whose name bloomed in his mind like a beacon. Ahura Mazda. Pray to the light. But he knew now that the lie was coming.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Friday October 30th: Patterham
Aninka put on her makeup. Her heart was beating fast, erratically, within her breast. Lahash had said little, but she knew that today would see the end of it all, one way or another. Taziel had come to sit in her room — they had spent all their time together over the past couple of days. He seemed tense and weary. ‘Ninka, I want to go home,’ he said.
‘Where’s home?’ she asked him.
He lay back on her bed. ‘Vienna. I wish I was there now.’ He rolled onto his side, stared at her. ‘Will I ever go back?’
Aninka shuddered, but strove to hide the physical reaction from him. ‘You won’t die, Taz. Lahash will look after you.’
‘Flesh may survive,’ Taziel said, ‘but what about the mind? I think I’d rather lose the flesh.’
Aninka stood up, went to sit next to him. She stroked his shoulder. ‘Taz, shut up. Thinking like this won’t do you any good. You’re a tracker, that’s all. Stop imagining you have more responsibility than that!’
He smiled sadly. ‘You’re so strong. How come you can be this calm about it? We’ll see him soon, Ninka, I know we will. Aren’t you afraid?’
Aninka clasped her hands together in her lap. ‘I keep telling myself not to be. I remind myself of what Peverel Othman has done, what he did to my friends, what he tried to do to me. If the only fear is that when I see him again, I will remember love, then no, I am not afraid.’ She felt it would be wiser not to confess to Taziel that she was worried her rational control might slip once she faced Othman in the flesh. However, she trusted Lahash. He was like a pillar that held the sky from falling, always sensed, even if he was not physically present.
Once her makeup was perfectly applied, Aninka packed her belongings. Lahash had bought her a small figurine of a protective demon, which he’d found in an occult shop in Patterham. She looked at it fondly, handled its smooth stone, before secreting it in her bag. It had stood on the bedside table since Lahash had put it into her hands.
She carried all the bags down to the cramped hallway of the hotel, Taziel following her. He seemed disorientated, unable to make decisions or even accomplish the most basic task, such as carrying a bag. Lahash had already settled the bill and had gone to fetch the car. Aninka looked around herself. In some ways she was sad to be leaving this dingy little sanctuary, because she and the others had forged a close friendship here during their short stay. She had wondered, occasionally, whether she would end up sleeping with either Lahash or Taziel, but it hadn’t happened. Now was not the time, she knew that, but even so, if something bad were to happen, she wished she could have the memory of their love to take with her to the next place. ‘Stop it!’ she told herself, and instructed Taziel to go out onto the street.
The day was warm, a kind day, which was full of summer ghosts, yet alive with the scent of the turning season, spiced by a suggestion of chill in the air. How wonderful life is, Aninka thought. How beautiful this world. She wished she didn’t keep having these aching thoughts of a final kind, because it did not bode well for the future. Trust Lahash, she told herself. Buck up, Aninka. This is war, not a funeral.
The large black car came sliding up the road, and purred to a halt before Aninka and Taziel. Lahash wound down the window and smiled at them. Aninka felt a pang of remorse. She had thought him severe, unattractive. Now, he seemed beautiful. ‘Get in,’ he said.
Aninka got in the front beside him, while Taziel got into the back seat, where he curled up to go to sleep.
‘Where are we going?’ Aninka asked.
‘A small village near here,’ Lahash answered. ‘I have already despatched the Kerubim, who are in position. Othman is there; his activities are so overt, even I can pick up the residue. It hangs above the place like a red cloud.’
Aninka shivered. ‘So, what’s the plan? We go right in and confront him?’
Lahash shook his head. ‘That wouldn’t be a good idea. No, we’ll keep our distance for today, and let Taz do his stuff. Something’s building up. Tonight, we move in.’ He let go of the steering wheel to grip Aninka’s hands briefly, which were clasped tightly in her lap. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.’
Friday October 30th: Little Moor
What can I do, thought Lily, but try to continue life as normal? She was hanging washing out at the time, her mouth stuffed with wooden pegs. The oppressive heat raised summer-colts from the dried lawn around her, and above, the sky was almost purple, as if bruised. Looking at the garden, Lily thought that it was like peering through coloured sunglasses, purple or dark pink. Her heart continued to pound much faster than usual. Not even sharing a bottle of wine with Emma could do anything to dampen her feverish excitement. Something is coming, something is happening. This was the inaudible chant that charged her blood. Lily picked up the wash basket and began to stroll back towards the cottage.
Owen still lay immobile in his room. He hadn’t drunk or eaten anything, but neither had he
soiled the bed. It was as if he was held in suspended animation; it frightened her. She went to look in on him often, worried in case he woke up alone and afraid. He looked like a dead saint, lying there on the bed. Was it the Grigori beauty coming through in him now, this translucence, this sense of inner fire, which shone through his fine boned face, or had Daniel coaxed this new beauty from him? Lily sponged his limbs with cool water, leaned down to kiss his genitals. ‘My brother.’ He did not stir.
A loud, demanding meow made Lily turn round. She expected to see one of her feline troupe bounding towards her, asking her to wait for them, but it was the enormous black cat from Low Mede. He came out from the rhododendrons, his tail aloft like a banner. ‘Hello!’ Lily said. ‘Are you better now?’ She was in the habit of talking to cats as if they themselves could speak. The cat meowed again, leaned heavily against her legs, twining his tail between them. She could feel the muscle of it; it was almost prehensile, like a monkey’s. He looked up at her, his mouth open in a silent meow, then he ran ahead a few feet, before pausing, gazing at her enquiringly, one forefoot held up. Lily moved towards him, murmuring soft words, but he ran off again, only to pause and look back at her once more. Lily put down the washing basket. She understood.
‘Go on, then,’ she said, and the cat ran to the garden gate, slipped under it. Lily followed and opened the gate, went out into the lane. The cat was already trotting off ahead of her. After looking back at the cottage just once, she went after it. Emma was drowsing in the parlour and Ray Perks was absent on some errand or another: no-one would notice Lily was missing.
Long Eden seemed to be surrounded by a shimmering aura, which was clearly visible against the aching purple sky. The colours of the garden, of the house itself seemed unnatural, as if bathed in a brilliant sunset. It was ten o’clock in the morning. Lily walked slowly up the drive. Perspective had shifted; nothing around her looked real, but slightly warped, tilted, leaning, squeezed out of shape. At the edge of her vision, she caught flickers of movement as if others walked beside her, a crowd of spirits who would not make their presence completely known.
A figure stood before her on the drive, indistinct in the haze. It appeared to be a long distance away, shielding its eyes with one hand, staring down at her. Then it raised its hand in a cheerful wave before swinging round and walking towards the house. Lily knew the figure instantly. It was her mother.
Lily felt no fear. She ran forward, shouting, ‘Mum!’ but the woman did not turn round again and disappeared beneath the shadow of the house. When Lily hurtled up to the great front doors, Raven was sitting at the threshold, licking one of his front paws. He looked up at Lily as if to say, ‘You took your time!’ Then he stretched out his long body, before rearing up to scratch at the door, as if demanding entrance. Beneath his great paws, the door swung open onto darkness. Lily drew in her breath sharply, and took a step backwards. She felt a wave of cold come out of the house and wrap its chilling arms around her. Raven looked up at her, meowed peremptorily.
‘Are you asking me in?’ Lily said. Raven, then, was the key. They had stumbled across him, fleeing the guardian of the house, not even realising he was there for them to use. Now, she would have to deal with it alone. Owen was unconscious, Daniel was missing, only she could enter the dark of Long Eden. Still, she hesitated.
‘Enter,’ said Raven.
Lily looked down at him. Had he really spoken? She blinked.
There was no cat on the doorstep, but a man stood before her, some monster of myth made flesh. He stood at least seven feet tall and had the head of a great cat. His skin pelted with black fur, over which he wore a deep green robe, fringed with gold. When he spoke, his voice seemed hardly more than a whisper, yet as loud as the wind. ‘Enter.’ With a clawed hand, he gestured for Lily to pass him and go into the house.
Lily was transfixed. ‘What are you?’ Was this what the Grigori really looked like? Was Peverel Othman a monster beneath his flesh as well? What did that mean for herself and Owen, if they attempted to reclaim their heritage?
‘I am the physical guardian of this house,’ Raven replied. ‘Have no fear. I am the key, as you have guessed. The spiritual guardian will not harm you in my company. It is time now, Lily Murkaster, for you to come home.’
Lahash parked the car on the edge of some woodland, and then he and Aninka half carried Taziel along a narrow lane, between high hedges. Lahash had slung a binoculars case over his shoulder. ‘Where are we going?’ Aninka asked. Lahash seemed to know.
He smiled at her, gestured with one hand towards a hilltop, visible on the left side of the road. ‘Look! Look hard!’
The sky shimmered in a strange way, its colour a most unnatural shade of dark blue, as if it contained some red hue within it. The atmosphere was unreal; it vibrated with power, with imminence. Aninka stared at the hill top, narrowed her eyes. A nebulous outline shimmered there, like the memory of a monstrous statue which might once have stood upon the hill. Aninka had never seen Kerubim before.
‘It is beautiful, and terrifying,’ she said, and then glanced at Lahash. ‘And you can control such a creature?’
He shrugged. ‘If its obeys its instructions. I hope so. There are six of them.’
Aninka said, ‘Look, Taz. Can you see it?’ The suggestion of the vast shape, more than anything Enniel could tell her, brought home to Aninka exactly what she was, what her people were. So easy to forget in the humdrum world, but this?
Taziel shook his head from side to side. ‘I need pain killers,’ he moaned. ‘Give me something. I hurt.’
‘No,’ Lahash answered affably. ‘We don’t want your mind fogged, do we?’
‘Fuck you!’ Taziel leaned weakly against Aninka. ‘I don’t want this!’
Aninka appealed to Lahash. ‘Is there nothing we can do?’
‘It will not be for long,’ Lahash said, hardly a satisfying answer.
They followed the lane until they reached a five-barred gate on the right side, which gave access to sloping fields that rolled towards the sky. Lahash led the way up the hills, Aninka supporting Taziel as best she could. At the top, they looked down upon a village. ‘Play-houses,’ said Aninka. ‘So tiny.’
Lahash took out his binoculars and scanned the landscape. Then he turned to the others. ‘Sit down, Taz. Rest a while.’
‘The air is full of him,’ Taziel answered. He collapsed onto the ground, where he lay clutching his head.
Aninka squatted down beside him, stroked his back. She could feel him shuddering.
‘Try and sleep,’ Lahash said. ‘I’ll wake you in an hour or two.’
Aninka sat down and placed Taziel’s head in her lap. She massaged his scalp, pressed her fingers against his closed eyes, hoping to instil some comfort. Lahash was a tall black shape beside them. He stood with folded arms, gazing down at the village.
‘Where is your old home?’ Aninka asked, more to make conversation and ease the tension than out of curiosity.
Lahash pointed. ‘There. It hasn’t changed.’ His voice was hard, but Aninka felt he was trying to contain his emotions.
She looked in the direction he indicated. The house was surrounded by tall trees; in the grounds, water gleamed beneath the feverish sun. ‘It’s massive.’
Lahash nodded. ‘I grew up there.’
‘Are you very old?’
He turned to her and smiled. ‘No, not very.’
‘What happened?’ Aninka asked him. ‘Can you tell me about it?’
Lahash hunkered down in front of her. ‘I don’t suppose it will do any harm.’ He sat down on the prickly grass.
‘Well?’
‘We lost everything because of a woman,’ he began. He gave Aninka a rueful smile. ‘My uncle, Kashday, was lord of our house. He fell in love with a human woman.’
Aninka risked a laugh. ‘Sounds familiar! Such has ever been our downfall, if we are to believe all the old stories!’
Lahash nodded. ‘True. Ninka, you must know about the two factions in o
ur society.’
‘Factions?’ She wasn’t sure.
Lahash nodded. ‘They both want to find a way back to the source, to the One, but they have different methods. Many bloodlines believe we should try to emulate the ways of the Anannage, so that they will reveal themselves to us once more, and give back to us the knowledge of our ancestors. The others believe we should further our own knowledge to reopen the old stargate. My family belonged to the latter faction.’
‘I see,’ Aninka said cautiously. She felt she belonged to neither faction. It all sounded very paranoid to her, similar to the conspiracy theories that many humans were so fond of inventing.
Lahash sighed. ‘Well, when Kashday met Helen, we had no idea what a viper he was bringing into our nest. She was bright, too intelligent to be a dependant. Pretty soon, she guessed many of our so-called secrets, what really went on in the workrooms beneath the house, and other information she must have bullied out of Kashday. She wanted to become the Eye Priestess, the oracle. Kashday was foolish enough to believe she could be the gateway, the one who would open the closed thoroughfare to the Source.’
Aninka couldn’t help expressing her surprise. ‘But that’s just a legend, surely! They didn’t really believe they could accomplish it.’
Lahash shook his head. ‘Ninka, the majority of our people are kept in ignorance. There is more truth in the old stories than you know. A perpetual flame burned in this place, but it was diminishing. We could draw sustenance from it, but we could not pass through it and use it as a gateway. Neither could we draw energies from the stars back through it to this world. Kashday persuaded the family to allow him to use Helen as Priestess for the fire festival at the Corn-Cutting. Lammas. It took some doing, but eventually he wore down all the arguments. Claimed he knew what he was doing. I think he did, but Helen was no Ishtahar. When she went into the flame, the gate opened, yes, but it incurred only the wrath of the elders. Something came through. The Parzupheim were alerted and sent out the Kerubim to attack us. We had no choice but to scatter. Most of us were killed, and the survivors were taken into confinement. It was terrible, a real mess.’