‘In dreams, the soul speaks most freely,’ Enniel said.
‘You speak in platitudes and clichés,’ Shem answered sharply. ‘Spare me that. I don’t think you believe in it any more than I do.’ He shook his head. ‘I think you all want me to be the scapegoat, to fall from the highest cliff and atone for your sins. You all want to kill me again, make me a sacrificial king. But unless the king believes in the power of redemption in his death, it can’t work, and I refuse, refuse, to be a part of that.’ He held out his empty brandy glass. ‘I would appreciate a refill.’
Enniel complied with this request in silence, then said, ‘Others will speak to you over the next few days.’
‘They can speak as much as they like!’
‘I understand the way you feel.’
Shem stared at him in a cool fury. ‘I cannot believe you dared to say that. Understand how I feel? I wish you did!’
‘I’m sorry.’
Shem saw that the apology was genuine. He made a careless gesture. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Would you like to sleep now?’ Enniel glanced at his watch. ‘It’s almost dawn.’
Shem guessed that Enniel had had enough of him for now. ‘Yes. I would like to rest. Please keep everyone away from me, including my assistant, Ms Manden. The only person I want to see is Daniel Cranton.’
‘As you wish.’ Enniel rang for his bottelier, Austin, who came in looking half asleep.
Shem smiled to think of what must be going on below stairs in this grand establishment at present; the assumptions, rumours and gossip. People had been kept up all night for him. Cars arriving in the middle of the night. Hushed private interviews.
Enniel gestured towards the door. ‘Austin will show you to the rooms we’ve made ready for you. You’ll find everything you need in there. We’ll leave you undisturbed until one o’clock tomorrow.’
After Enniel had dismissed them from his study, and Emma had been taken to her room, Lahash and Aninka stood in the corridor outside the suites they’d been given. Aninka guessed that Lahash wanted her to invite him into her room, but she didn’t feel like conversation, never mind anything else. Her mind and heart were numb. She couldn’t help thinking that the man who had accompanied them from London was Peverel Othman, despite what everyone said about who and what he had become. He had looked like Pev to her, down to the heart-breakingly familiar mannerisms. He had looked as beautiful as she remembered him, yet he had all but forgotten her.
Lahash reached out and squeezed her arm. ‘Are you all right?’
She saw the concern in his eyes and felt irritated by it. ‘Yes. I’m just tired.’
‘But it must have felt... disturbing to see him tonight.’
Aninka ran a hand through her hair. ‘I really don’t want to talk about it now.’
‘That’s OK,’ Lahash said softly.
Don’t humour me! Aninka thought.
Lahash rubbed his neck. ‘I couldn’t have taken him if he hadn’t wanted to come. We didn’t have to persuade him. He’d already made up his mind.’
‘I had nothing to do with that.’
‘I know.’
Aninka turned away, put her hand upon the door-knob to her room. ‘Thanks for reminding me.’
Lahash made an anguished noise. ‘I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to...’ He paused. ‘You’re still in love with him.’
Aninka laughed harshly, opened the door to her room. ‘In love with the memory of a man who didn’t even exist. Pointless.’ A surge of anger threshed through her. ‘I like you, Lahash. I find you attractive. Yet I look at you beside him, and you are like a pinprick of light to his sun. That is the legacy of having loved him.’ She could have continued, but realisation of the cruelty of her words stemmed the anger.
‘One cannot gaze at the sun too long, remember,’ Lahash said bitterly. He opened the door to his room and went inside.
‘Lahash!’ Aninka clawed her head, stared at his closed door. ‘Damn!’ She considered for a moment, going after him then abandoned the impulse. She had meant what she said, although she knew that Lahash would take her rejection to heart. She had sacrificed a potential relationship for the sake of a dream that could never be real.
Chapter Fifteen
The Star of Life
Grey dawn was breaking in the eastern sky as Taziel’s hired car turned onto the gravel drive of High Crag. Daniel had dozed against Taziel’s side for most of the latter stages of their journey, but after the horrors of the night flight, Taziel had been unable to close his eyes. Whenever he dropped off, he saw hideous, white-haired figures clawing at the windows of the car or peeling open the roof as if it were a flimsy tin can.
High Crag was magnificent against the paling sky, its forest of chimneys rearing like a crown above its frowning eaves. Taziel roused Daniel. ‘Wake up. We’re here.’
Daniel rubbed his face and yawned, turned to peer out of the window. ‘Wow! It’s a stately home!’ He smiled at Taziel. ‘Like Long Eden back... back home.’
Taziel noted with concern Daniel’s pale face, the dark circles beneath his eyes. ‘Just like Long Eden,’ he said. ‘Both of them are Grigori haunts.’
Daniel sat up and stretched. ‘They must all be rich, then.’ He grinned archly. ‘Like you.’
Taziel smiled thinly in reply.
The driver brought his vehicle to a halt before the front doors. Lahash’s car was parked nearby, along with an array of four-wheel drive vehicles that belonged to the family. The driver turned in his seat and gave Taziel a sickly smile. ‘Well, we made it.’
‘Yeah. Thanks. You were great.’ Taziel opened the car door. ‘Shall we go in?’ They would have to offer the driver food and rest before he drove back to London.
Taziel had to ring the doorbell several times before a sleepy member of Enniel’s staff came to answer it — some underling of Austin’s who’d been instructed to wait up for them. Yawning, he invited them inside. The driver’s eyes were very round as they entered the grand hall-way. Taziel made a brief explanation and asked that their driver be given hospitality. ‘But don’t worry about us. We’ll crash out in the drawing-room for a couple of hours.’ The servant knew Taziel from the time he’d been down before with Aninka, and grudgingly allowed him to lead Daniel off down the corridor.
Daniel stared about himself with weary amazement. This was what Long Eden would have looked like in its prime: dark, gleaming wood, tapestries and paintings; heavy furniture and muted light. Taziel opened a door and led him into a spacious room where long, stained glass windows overlooked the garden. The curtains hung open, admitting the wan dawn light. They could hear the crash of the sea from here. A clock ticked richly within the room. ‘Take the sofa by the hearth,’ Taziel said. ‘The fire’s still glowing.’
In a daze, Daniel stumbled towards the long, well-cushioned couch and threw himself down. The luxury of straightening his body out on the comfortable upholstery was almost too blissful to bear. He was racked by cramps and aches from the car journey.
Taziel went over to an ornate sideboard and picked up a bottle. ‘Enniel always has good brandy,’ he said, lifting two fat globes by the stems in the fingers of his other hand. ‘In every room.’
Daniel laughed weakly. ‘Is that true?’
Taziel sat down on the end of the sofa. ‘Absolutely.’ The thick sound of pouring liquor could be heard. ‘Here, a night-cap, or a dawn-cap. You look like you need it.’
Daniel rolled onto his back and took the proffered glass. When he sipped the brandy, it burned his mouth and throat, but it was comforting heat. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the cushions. ‘This... feels... so... good.’ He heard Taziel lean back at the end of the couch.
‘Yeah.’ He sighed. ‘Daniel, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about what happened tonight.’
‘Try.’ Daniel opened his eyes. He wasn’t about to forgive Taziel for his part in the deception. ‘Your friend is a thug.’
‘Well, as I told you in the car, he’s
an exiled Murkaster,’ Taziel said. ‘From Little Moor. You should know their reputation.’
Daniel nodded. ‘Lily will be amazed to find out one of her relatives is still around.’ Daniel’s face fell. ‘I hope she’s all right. I don’t think she is, but what can I do?’
Taziel reached for Daniel’s booted foot and rotated his ankle. ‘Nothing at the moment. We’ll talk to Enniel tomorrow. He might be able to help.’
‘Is Shem here?’ Daniel asked.
Taziel looked into the embers of the fire. ‘Lahash’s car was out front, so I suppose so.’
‘I should find him,’ Daniel said and rose up off the cushions.
‘Not now,’ Taziel said sharply. ‘We are in Enniel’s house and must play by his rules. We must wait to see what he’s done with... Shemyaza.’
Daniel slumped back. ‘I can’t just lie here doing nothing. I’m worried about Lily and Owen, and about Shem and Emma.’
‘They’ll survive without you for a few hours.’ Taziel ran his hand up Daniel’s shin. ‘I wish I could go back in time and re-live this night. I would have played it differently.’
Daniel stared at him without expression, wanting to push his hand away, wanting to take hold of it and squeeze the fingers tightly, guide them to his face. It was hard to stay angry with Taziel. Since they’d met, they’d shared some weird experiences, and on the nightmare journey down to Cornwall, Taziel had succeeded in keeping Daniel safe. ‘What were those things that were after us?’ he asked.
Taziel shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Grigori have many specialised mutations. Still, we’re safe from them here.’
‘I hope so.’ Daniel put his half-finished brandy down on the carpet, and pulled a heavy tartan blanket down from the back of the couch.
‘You’re cold,’ Taziel said, and tried to arrange the blanket around him.
Daniel shook his head and pushed Taziel’s hands away. ‘Not really. But I will be once I’ve taken my clothes off. Will you see to my boots?’
Taziel stared at him speculatively for a moment, then said, ‘OK.’ He began to unlace the left boot, his fingers not entirely steady.
Awareness of Taziel’s nervousness rekindled a flame of lust in Daniel’s belly. He felt exhausted but sensual, and beyond being angry with Taziel’s lies. They were all in this together now, come good or bad. He knew Taziel wouldn’t take the initiative now, because he was wary of rebuff, but he could tell Taziel was thinking of their interrupted passion. Daniel waited until both boots were off before saying, ‘We have something to finish, haven’t we?’
Taziel paused before answering, still anticipating scorn and refusal. ‘Whatever you want.’
‘I want,’ Daniel said.
Taziel nodded abstractedly and stood up. He turned his back on Daniel and slowly removed his clothes. Daniel had to admit that it was quite a performance. He thought, Shem is here in this house. Can he sense this? And the thought of that intensified his desire. He struggled out of his jacket and T-shirt, and opened the top of his jeans. Taziel turned to him, an erotic silhouette in the twilight. Without words, he leaned over Daniel and slid his hands inside his jeans, pulling them down in one dextrous movement, slipping them over Daniel’s feet. You’re too practised, Daniel thought dispassionately. How many times have you done that? Did you do it to Peverel Othman?
Taziel laid his warm body over Daniel’s cooler skin; their flesh was throbbing to the same insistent demands. Daniel thought of Owen’s timid, respectful love-making, the memory of how they had discovered carnal pleasures together for the first time. This Grigori male was experienced and confident. It was different and arousing, but not altogether more pleasing. Too many have passed this way, Daniel thought. Owen’s inexperience had been special and pure. Was it lost forever now? Taziel kissed him like a serpent, invasive and muscular. This was not the anxious person harbouring secrets, who had lain beside Daniel in the apartment in London. The truth was out between them now and, sure of Daniel’s compliance, Taziel no longer felt diffident. For a moment, Daniel experienced panic, felt overwhelmed and out of control. Then Taziel’s skilful fingers were sliding over his flat belly, playing lightly across his groin, pausing to squeeze, pull, massage, before running delicately along his inner thighs. He seemed to want nothing in return.
The light was pale and grainy in the room, and sea-birds outside were beginning to scream for the morning. Daniel felt himself becoming delirious with pleasure. His body was an instrument, and each stroke and caress of Taziel’s hands conjured a new, exquisite chord of sensation. It seemed as if the sofa was swallowing them both. I’m not really here,’ Daniel thought, and stared dazedly at the silvery sky beyond the windows. One moment he was drifting on the ocean of Taziel’s caresses, the next Taziel was pushing inside him. It happened so smoothly. Daniel expelled a moaning sigh and pressed his head back into the cushions, his legs curling around Taziel’s lean back. Their movements were slow, languorous, slippery. How does he do this? Daniel thought. It’s so comfortable. The light of new day filled his eyes like tears. And there was a tall, dark shape against the windows, indistinct and shadowy. Only its eyes were visible; vaporous blue lights, burning like neon. Daniel tried to concentrate on it, aware of it, yet distant from its presence. He sensed its focused attention, yet could not gauge whether it was hostile or not. He wanted to tell Taziel about it, but could not speak. It seemed as if he lay there for hours, moving with unnatural slithery slowness, staring at the silent, watchful figure. Daniel felt that as Taziel moved inside him, the sun rose and fell a hundred times, while quick, buzzing figures went about their daily business invisibly in this room, unable to see the lovers on the couch because they moved to a different rhythm in space and time — far slower, removed and tranquil. Only the tall shape before the window could see them, and it could see right inside them to the pulsing, bloody core. A tide of feeling was building up within Daniel’s belly and soon it would crash through him in a dazzling foam. When it crested, it would banish the sight of that sentinel figure. Nothing else could.
Only the onset of orgasm enabled Daniel to close his eyes. Reality crept back in. He was aware of Taziel’s heart beating hard and furious against his own. The feelings within him had accelerated, like a film of an ocean shore on fast forward. Waves sizzled up the beach with unnatural speed and withdrew in a frothing, lacy spume. His head ached slightly and his eyes felt gritty. He turned his head upon the cushions, blinking back sparks of light, and the crescendo of coming gushed through him; uninvited and immediate. It filled all the darkest pools of his spirit, then drew back its watery, weedy tendrils, leaving a flotsam of sparkling shells and darting creatures, before threshing back up the shore of him again. It was like drowning rather than surfing the wave.
Taziel waited for Daniel’s feelings to subside, before gently withdrawing. Daniel realised Taziel had climaxed some minutes before. The cushions beneath them were wet with their mingled seed. Sleepily, Daniel wondered whether they should try to do something about that to avoid embarrassing explanations later in the day, then yawned and thought, Oh, so what. They both turned on their sides and pulled the blanket over them. Already their sweat was cooling. Daniel could hear his own heart thumping in his ears. Taziel curled against Daniel’s spine and curved an arm around Daniel’s chest, briefly kissing the back of his neck.
‘Are you OK?’ he whispered.
Daniel nodded. Suddenly, he felt like crying. ‘Shem was here,’ he said. ‘I saw him.’
He felt Taziel’s body stiffen, become alert. ‘No, no he wasn’t. You were imagining it.’
‘I saw him,’ Daniel said, yawning. ‘By the window. He watched us. He’s gone now.’
Taziel shivered, but said nothing. Daniel slept long before Taziel dared to close his eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
In the House of Light
Lily woke up believing she was eight years old. She was on holiday with her mother and Owen, and the room around her was the small, rather Spartan bedroom in the boardi
ng house beside the sea, which they visited every year. There was the old, scratched night table beside her bed, covered in a yellowed lace doily. A huge, shapeless wardrobe of dark wood dominated the left wall. Without looking over the side of the bed, she knew the carpet would be almost colourless and threadbare. She could hear gulls outside and the faint roar of the ocean. The air smelled of the past, of childhood; the briny perfume of sand stuck to bare legs with the brackish liquor of stagnant rock pools. Lily shivered and turned over in the high, creaking bed. Then she remembered the events of the night before, and it came with a jolt. She sat up in the bed and the thin, white counterpane fell away from her body. She was fully dressed and the mattress beneath her, covered inadequately by an ancient flannelette sheet, was damp. No-one had slept here for years and this was not a seaside boarding-house.
Lily got out of bed and went over to one of the two small windows. She looked out upon a bleak landscape, a grey sky. The house was positioned in the centre of a flat garden of gravel paths and symmetrical lawns. Two hundred yards away from the building, a grey stone wall enclosed the garden boundary. Somewhere nearby the sea lunged hungrily at the land, heard but not seen. Lily rubbed her arms: she felt so cold. She glanced at her watch; two o’clock. It seemed inconceivable that less than a day ago she had been in London with Daniel, getting ready for a night out. Why had there been no presentiment to warn her what would happen? ‘Daniel.’ She said his name aloud and touched the windowpane. Was he safe? Had the Emim waited at the Assembly Rooms for his return?
A memory flashed into her mind: the day Daniel had walked into her cottage in Little Moor, bringing an invitation for her and Owen to go for dinner at his father’s house. She had not liked him then, because she’d felt jealous, aware of the seeds that he and Owen had planted between them, which even at that early stage, had been pushing their way to the light through the fertile soil of their needs. She had felt excluded, resentful. Now, she realised she had come to depend upon Daniel. He didn’t have to do anything to prove his protective power; just his mere presence was enough to create a sanctuary around her. He was strength and light; no wonder Owen had loved him.
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