Salamiel was silent for a moment, then said, ‘I’ve been thinking about what we should do. It’s obviously a waste of time hanging around here. I think we should take some action.’
Shem raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh? Such as what?’
‘Perhaps we could go to Babylon.’ He was clearly fighting to keep his voice calm, but an almost fanatical light had come into his eyes. ‘Shem, it is time for you to use your power. You are the divine king of angels. Isn’t your job to change the world? You must rise up as the warrior, not the peace-maker. That has been tried and failed. We should go to Babylon and claim its armies for your own.’
Shem laughed incredulously. ‘No, Sal. That doesn’t feel right to me. I just have to find Gadreel. I have to find my brethren.’
Salamiel snorted in contempt. ‘How long must we wait? What is going to happen?’
‘I don’t know. Daniel will discover this for me.’
‘Daniel!’ Salamiel’s voice was full of scorn. ‘Shem, why do you keep him by you? He’s told us hardly anything of use recently, and let’s face it, he doesn’t even warm your bed for you any more. I think you’re more than capable of taking on Daniel’s role yourself. You are Shemyaza, more powerful than anyone.’
Shem narrowed his eyes and his voice became harder. ‘How little you know me, Salamiel. I don’t ever want to hear you speak of Daniel like that again.’
‘Someone has to point out the obvious to you,’ Salamiel answered, but the fire had gone from his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I only have your interests at heart.’
Shem shook his head once more, and stood up. ‘I have to speak to that woman again. Let’s go back.’
Shem had left Fatime alone for a few days, but when he returned to the village, he marched straight up to her and announced, ‘We can’t stay here for ever. We need your help. I’d like you to send another message to Gadreel for us.’
‘I have sent messages,’ Fatime replied curtly, ‘and have received no answer. He might not come. You must face this.’
‘Send another message,’ Shem said. ‘I will pay for it.’
Fatime shrugged. ‘Waste your money, then. I will do as you ask.’
That night, after a brief private discussion, Salamiel and Daniel demanded that Shemyaza sit down with them to discuss what they should do next. The supplies they had brought with them had run out and they were now a burden on Fatime’s limited resources. Shem was all for heading off into the mountains with the help of one of Fatime’s people. He felt sure they could pay someone to guide them. Salamiel pointed out that they had no money left, and suggested they return to Van, in the hope of making contact with a Yarasadi there. Also, there were banks in Van where they could withdraw further funds.
‘We are wasting our time here,’ Salamiel said.
Daniel felt Salamiel was right. ‘We’ve got to face it: Gadreel doesn’t want to know about us.’
Shem shook his head. ‘You’re wrong. We can’t give up. We are meant to be here. Gadreel will come.’
Fatime had strolled over to where they sat, clearly interested in the outcome of their conversation. It didn’t take long to work out she’d been eavesdropping for some time. ‘Your companions are sensible, Shemyaza. You should return to Van. Afterwards, if you still want to go down to the plains of Babylon, one of my people could guide you further south to the foothills, but first you will need supplies and transport. Your safety cannot be guaranteed.’
‘Two more days,’ Shemyaza said. ‘Then we shall see.’ He looked up at Fatime. ‘We shall repay you in full measure for your hospitality.’
Fatime made a dismissive gesture. ‘No. There is no need.’
When she walked away, Daniel went after her. He touched her arm to get her attention. ‘I know how much you are helping us,’ he said. ‘Why?’
‘Helping you?’ Fatime looked puzzled. ‘I have done little. You, Daniel, have done more these last weeks to help me.’
Daniel shook his head. ‘No. You could have used us as hostages, Fatime. I’m not blind to the fact you are willing to let us walk out of here back to Van. You wouldn’t let us walk out alone either, would you. Why?’
She smiled. ‘Instinct. Maybe. You could never be hostages.’ She glanced back at Shemyaza and Salamiel. ‘Your friends, they frighten me, Daniel. But they belong here.’ With that, she held up a hand to silence any more questions and walked quickly away.
The two days passed, and as Daniel expected, there was still no sign of the Yarasadi. Fatime offered to lend them a jeep and a guide to return to Van, although she told them there had been some trouble on the road out of the mountains and some of it might be impassable.
‘We have no choice,’ Salamiel said.
Daniel could tell that Shemyaza felt disheartened by Gadreel’s failure to appear. He had no doubt imagined some dramatic reunion when everything would fall into place. To Daniel, Gadreel’s decision to keep a distance indicated that he could not be a reawakened Watcher as Shem had thought. He was probably nothing other than a Kurdish peshmerga, who had simply adopted a name he considered to be powerful.
At dusk, they loaded their possessions into the covered jeep. Most of the people seemed sorry to see them go. Fatime embraced Daniel and wished him luck. Adina clung to his legs, weeping, until Fatime prised her away and led her to a group of women nearby. Daniel knew he could not take her with them; they had no idea what would happen to them or where they’d end up. He made a firm decision that, once he returned home, he would try to help her people, in whatever way he could. If he returned home. With this thought, his mind became utterly still. For the first time, he considered leaving Shem behind. His role as vizier seemed to have disappeared. He had lost the keenness of his psychic sight. Shem needed a new vizier. Perhaps he would find one in these mountains, some native of his ancient homeland. Daniel rested his forehead against the canvas of the jeep, pretending to be engrossed in fixing it to the vehicle’s frame. It’s finished, he thought. I’ve played my part.
‘Daniel?’ Shem’s hand curled around his shoulder. ‘What’s wrong?’
Daniel paused for a moment, wondering whether he dared to speak his mind. Then the words were being spoken, almost independently of his will. ‘Shem, I think I’ll be going home.’
Shem was silent as he considered this statement, then he laughed softly. ‘That’s good news. I know you feared we’d all get killed up here.’
‘No. I mean soon. Now. I don’t want this any more.’
Shem sighed impatiently. ‘We’ll return to Van, and see what happens. Something will happen. I’m sure of it.’
Daniel pulled away angrily. ‘Will you listen to me for once? I’m going back to England. I could get a flight out of Van to Istanbul. It’s over, Shem. I don’t belong with you any more.’
People around them had stopped what they were doing to listen to the argument. Fatime sucked pensively on a cigarette nearby, her eyes narrow and watchful.
‘You can’t go back,’ Shem said quietly. ‘There’s nothing there for you. Your place is with me.’
‘No. I’ve changed. I’m no use to you now. I’m not the Taliesin I was to you in Cornwall. Give me one last thing. Give me the money to get home.’
Shem’s hands shot out and grabbed Daniel’s wrists. He pulled Daniel towards him, making him wince in pain as the bones in his wrists ground together. ‘You are not trying, Daniel! You’re forsaking your duty!’ He shook Daniel like a rat in the jaws of a dog.
Salamiel sauntered over to them. ‘Let him go, Shem. He may be right. We’re all exhausted. Let’s talk about this back in Van.’
Shem uttered an angry cry and threw Daniel against the side of the jeep. But for this movement, the entire camp around them had become still. Children watched with wide eyes.
Salamiel thrust himself between them and tried to break Shem’s grip on Daniel’s arms. Daniel struck out with his feet and caught Shem on the shin, which prompted him to transfer his grip to Daniel’s throat.
Salamiel punched a
t Shem’s face, yelling, ‘You’ll kill him, for Anu’s sake! Shem, let go!’
Daniel flailed and hit out with his arms, striking Shem around the head. He retched and gasped in Shem’s hold. So, Shemyaza would kill him now. Was this the end of it? He became overwhelmed with a numbing lethargy, and could no longer feel the pain of suffocation. Sound became faint in his ears, replaced by a rushing like the sea. His vision blurred. Then, Shemyaza had let him go, almost as if something else had attracted his attention.
Daniel slumped to his knees, wheezing and coughing, his hands against his throat. Salamiel and Shemyaza were like giants before him; inhuman and terrible, their hair coiling like snakes around their heads and shoulders in the evening breeze.
‘Daniel.’ Salamiel squatted down before him, took his face in his hands. ‘Are you all right?’
Daniel swallowed painfully and croaked, ‘Yes.’ He was surprised by this unexpected show of concern, but let Salamiel help him to his feet. Daniel could not look at Shem. Wiping his eyes to clear his vision, he saw ghosts everywhere; dark shapes that had melted out of the dusk. They seemed be floating down from the rocky crags around them; black cloth swirling round them like wings. One of them came towards the jeep, and Daniel saw it was not a ghost at all, but a man dressed in a dark robe with a red scarf wrapped around his head. They had come then, at last: Yarasadi. Daniel knew it had been decided for him: he would not be going home just yet.
Shem had already caught sight of the robed figures. He had straightened up and now stepped forward to address the one who seemed to be the leader of the group. Fatime, however, intervened, moving quickly to place herself between Shem and the stranger. She spoke to the leader in rapid Kurmanji and then turned to Shem. ‘These people are Yarasadi. It is unclear whether they are here because of the messages, for they claim to know nothing of them, but they do wish to speak with you.’
‘Is Gadreel with them?’
Fatime shook her head. ‘No. But that is not unexpected. Nobody meets Gadreel.’
Shem clawed his fingers through his hair impatiently. ‘Where is Yazid? Did he reach them?’
Fatime again spoke to the Yarasadi in their own tongue. ‘They will not answer clearly. They say there is someone they must take you to.’
Shem nodded. ‘That must be Gadreel. Tell them we will go with them gladly.’
Fatime studied Shem for a moment. ‘You have to understand, these people are an elite group. I do not know their activities and cannot vouch for your safety if you go with them.’
‘I understand, but we must still go.’
Daniel knew Shem well enough not to expect an apology for his attack. To Shem, there seemed to be no difference between an act of cruelty or of love. The atmosphere in the jeep as they set off from Fatime’s village was tense and silent. Salamiel seemed embarrassed or guilty about the episode and would not speak to Daniel, although he did offer a reassuring pat upon the shoulder as they climbed into the back of the jeep. Shem said he would drive, although one of the Yarasadi — a woman — climbed into the front seat beside him, presumably to act as guide. They could see little of their new companion, as she was disguised by her costume and the light now was dim. If she could speak English, she clearly did not intend to do so, and directed Shem by gestures and sharp remarks in Kurmanji. She kept her gun upright between her robe-swathed knees; a fearless female who had no anxiety about travelling with three male strangers. The other Yarasadi disappeared back into the shadows of the rocks.
They drove through the night, along mountain roads that looked — and felt — as if they had not been travelled by wheeled vehicles for centuries. Progress was slow and on several occasions the company had to alight from the jeep to manhandle it out of a deep rut in the road.
Daniel knew that he could no longer avoid speaking to Shem about their relationship. Shem’s unexpected violence hid more than mere annoyance that Daniel wanted to leave him. At one time, their alliance had been intense and passionate, but it had been spoiled by Shem’s long recuperation from his ordeal in Cornwall. Daniel wondered whether his withering psychic ability was something to do with the fact that he and Shem had become estranged. If he was to remain part of the Grigori’s destiny, then he must face the resentments that had built up within him, and break down the barriers of hostility. How and when he had yet to work out.
Chapter Ten
The Daughter of Israel
Cornwall, England
Lily Winter was worried about her daughter, Helen. The child had had a mild fever for three days now, and the attentions of the young Grigori physician whom Enniel had sent to the cottage seemed to have done nothing to alleviate Helen’s condition. Tonight, it was worse.
Helen’s body was hot and dry, her breath sour as she tossed and whimpered on her bed. Lily bathed her daughter’s forehead with the fragrant herbal concoction that the physician, Master Malagriel, had left for her. Five minutes earlier, Lily had again called Malagriel, who had assured her that the child was in no danger. Lily wondered how the physician had come to that conclusion. To her, Helen’s condition looked very serious.
Again, Lily couldn’t help wondering whether Helen had been affected by the strange insect she had found on the cliffs on the day of the eclipse. The creature had been dead when Helen found it, and resembled no beetle that Lily had seen before. She had showed it to Malagriel, afraid that the stiff lifeless form had somehow stung Helen. The physician had looked at the insect with interest. ‘It seems to be a scarab — and a very large one at that.’
‘But what was it doing on the cliffs?’ Lily demanded.
Malagriel had shrugged. ‘Well, it could have come from High Crag. Enniel has the place stuffed full of old relics, as you probably know.’ He grinned. ‘Not least, some of his relatives.’
Lily had been in no mood for jokes. ‘Are you sure it couldn’t have hurt Helen?’
‘Yes. Scarabs aren’t poisonous.’
In the early stages of her illness, Helen had insisted on keeping the creature in a jar beside her bed. She liked to turn the glass vessel in her hands, staring at the oil-bright colours of the insect’s carapace. Now, the jar stood ignored on the table, next to the Winnie the Pooh lamp, amid a jumble of Helen’s toy ponies. Lily’s heart contracted within her. The little array of youthful belongings seemed pathetic standing so mundanely above the suffering child. Lily dreaded that Helen would never be able to play with them again.
Thunder growled in the distance; another storm. They had been occurring every evening recently; violent electrical tempests that brought no rain. The air was humid, yet Lily shivered. She stood up and went to the window, looked out. Another jagged spear of light cracked down to spike the earth. It was almost as if something were moving again beneath the Cornish soil, another monstrous serpent brought to life. Lily’s mind was cast back to the terrifying time when she had first come to Cornwall. She felt unnerved, in need of company. Her brother, Owen, was out, but she could call Emma Manden.
Downstairs, Lily discovered that the phones were down again. Another peal of thunder came, followed by what felt like a minor earthquake. Lily cringed. Ornaments on the shelves rattled, pictures tilted, and the overhead lamp fitting swayed. ‘No,’ Lily said aloud. She could sense something creeping towards her home, shrouded in thunder, carried by it.
The lights suddenly went out and Lily jumped, repressing a cry that rose in her throat. She could not stay here. She would have to pick Helen up and carry her from the house. They would have to go to High Crag. Enniel would know what was happening. He would protect them.
Running to the stairs, Lily was horrified to see a spectral shape staring down at her from the first floor, limned in blue-white lightning radiance that came in through the landing windows. Her first instinct was to slam herself backwards against the wall, trying to make herself invisible. Helen was up there, though. Her vulnerable daughter. What could she do? There was no way Lily would abandon her. Then the voice came. ‘Mummy! Mummy!’ The ghostly shape came s
campering down the stairs, and Lily realised it wasn’t a ghost at all.
Lily scooped the child up into her arms and realised at once that Helen felt cooler. The fever had broken. Relieved, Lily pressed her face against Helen’s cheek. ‘Helen, what are you doing out of bed? Are you scared?’
‘No, I’m not scared, but I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘What?’ Lily carried Helen towards the kitchen. As she pushed open the door, the lights came on again. Normality restored.
Helen wriggled in her arms. ‘Met-met wants to go home. He wants me to take him.’
‘Who’s Met-met?’
‘My animal. The one I found.’
‘The scarab beetle?’
Helen nodded.
‘Where does he want you to take him, sweetheart?’
‘To Khem. It’s a long way.’
Lily knew that Khem was one of the ancient names of Egypt, but how could Helen have known it? ‘Well, perhaps one day we can go on a holiday there and then we’ll take him home.’
Helen shook her head emphatically. ‘No. Soon.’
Lily deposited Helen on a chair and went to the fridge to fetch milk. ‘We can’t. It’s not a safe place at the moment. People are fighting all the time.’
‘Mummy, we must go. Met-met jumped onto my face and folded the thing that made me sick up into a ball. He threw it away. Then he told me.’
Lily paused, the milk carton poised over Helen’s cup. A mother would normally dismiss such nonsense as make-believe, but Helen was no ordinary child. She was Grigori. ‘Why does Met-met want to go home so badly, Helen?’
‘He wants to show something to me.’
‘What?’
Helen shrugged and took the milk drink from her mother. ‘I don’t know. We mustn’t be scared of the fighting, though. Mummy, will you ask Enniel to sort it out for us?’ Already Helen was wise enough to know where money and favours came from in their home.
Lily sat down at the table and folded her arms upon it, staring at her daughter. In many ways, with her perfect face and shadowed, sometimes commanding, gaze, she resembled a girl of Ancient Egypt.