The alcohol slows his mind. He pours another and lets the memories resurface. The first to come is Paul’s corpse. Automatically, his mind fights against the image. Let it come, Satori tells his consciousness. I have to face it. It does come. The image jars. So much red, darker than claret, the colour of an aged ruby port but thick and sticky; it congeals in smears across Paul’s stomach and thighs while above the wounds it remains wet. Satori’s face is reflected in the vicious hole between his friend’s legs. It should have been me. This will never end. On the edge of Satori’s perception he hears Lilith’s laugh, harsh and sharp like a bark.
Satori’s mind gives him a needle and thread. He removes the slippery organs from Paul’s throat and places them where they belong. Then with stitches, small and precise, he sews flesh back onto flesh and makes the man whole again. A bucket and sponge appear beside him. Satori wets the sponge and washes away the blood. He moves it across Paul’s body gently, as if afraid to wake him. His work finished, he stands next to the body. Paul’s white skin and hair gleam in the half-light. Red wings of blood spread out from beneath him. He looks like a fallen angel, and only the broken mouth remains as evidence of his violent death.
Crouching again at Paul’s side, Satori places his fingers on the body’s cold, motionless chest. He closes his eyes and whispers old, magical words over and over again. Opening his eyes, he looks at Paul. The skin beneath Satori’s fingers glows.
‘Can you hear me?’ Satori asks.
‘Yes,’ replies a voice, Paul’s voice, although his huge mouth does not move.
‘Did Lilith do this?’ Satori asks.
‘Do you need to ask me that?’ Paul answers. ‘Are you afraid it was you?’
Satori shakes his head. His throat feels tight. ‘I-I know it wasn’t me.’ His forehead creases and his eyes darken. ‘No, it wasn’t…’
‘Lilith did this,’ Paul answers, breaking Satori’s chant.
‘Why?’
‘To get your attention,’ is Paul’s reply.
Satori’s throat constricts further. He fights to breathe. It’s my fault. Memories of burying Paul in the cellar push past the guilt. He grasps onto them. ‘But the bones! Paul, why are there bones buried in your cellar?’ Silence. For a moment Satori wonders whether the spell is broken, but Paul’s chest still glows. ‘Tell me,’ he demands.
‘You don’t want to know.’
‘Yes, I do. What did you do, Paul? Did you kill those children?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why? Why did you do it?’ Satori’s voice is high. A lump hovers in his chest, slowly making its way towards his windpipe.
‘For power, for pleasure, maybe both. Don’t hate me, Satori. I couldn’t stand it. Whatever I’ve done, whatever mistakes I’ve made, I do love you. Let me rest in peace, without your fury.’
‘Be gone!’ Satori shouts.
First the light in Paul’s chest dulls and dies then the body dissolves into vapour. Satori kneels on the floor. His hands shake. He reaches for his drink and finishes it in one gulp.
‘I’m sorry you died so violently, you old bastard,’ Satori tells his empty glass. ‘But, now I know what you’ve done, I cannot mourn for you.’
The scratch and click of keys unlocking the front door makes Satori look up. ‘Hi, Mum,’ he calls, rubbing his face with his sleeve.
‘Steve, you’re home.’ Marian walks into the room and sets her laptop and briefcase down on an empty chair. ‘You’d better phone Sarah and let her know you’re okay. She seems to have got a bit needy. I thought you’d split up.’
‘It’s complicated. Can I pour you a drink?’ Satori lifts his glass and makes his way to the liquor cabinet.
‘No thanks, love. I’ve got a telephone conference in twenty minutes. Do you need this room?’ She opens her briefcase and sets some papers out, across the coffee table, without waiting for his reply.
Satori sighs and grabs the whisky bottle by its neck. ‘It’s fine. I’ll be upstairs.’
‘Thanks, love. We’ll talk later,’ she assures him.
Settling on his bed, Satori pours himself another drink. The memories of his and Paul’s love-making resurface now. The blind passion he felt last night makes him nauseous. Why didn’t I sense something? He quells the thoughts with another fiery gulp. Lust makes us fools. I wish I didn’t have a dick. His eyes dart around the room and he covers his groin with his pillow. ‘I didn’t mean it,’ he whispers to the walls.
A fourth whisky and his thoughts start to dull. He lies back on his bed, closing his heavy eyelids, his pillow still resting on his pelvis. ‘What a day,’ he says aloud.
The memory of Star’s furious face as she stood in Paul’s doorway, demanding to see him, fills his head. He purses his lips and kisses the chimera. Then he’s rifling through Paul’s library again, searching for books to take home. Elated and devastated all at once, and with the uneasy feeling that he is still being watched.
The doorbell rings again. What does she want now? He’s tempted to ignore it, but it’s probably important. Renewing the glamour, he crosses the hallway.
A policeman and woman fill the doorway. Satori starts to sweat. His mouth won’t work.
‘It’s okay, sir. Nothing to worry about,’ says the policeman. ‘May we come in?’
Satori nods and leads them into the living room. They sit on separate chairs, facing each other. Both constables have their open notebooks on their laps. His head swims. The woman eyes him curiously. Realising he is holding his breath, Satori exhales. The sound is much louder than he expects. ‘Oh?’ he manages to squeak.
‘There’s been a report of a large dog, running around the neighbourhood,’ the policeman continues.
‘Do you own a dog, sir?’ the policewoman asks.
Satori shakes his head. ‘No.’ His mouth is painfully dry. ‘Drink?’ he offers.
‘I’ll get them,’ says the policewoman, leaving the room before he can protest.
‘Did you see a large, black dog in the area on Wednesday night, sir?’ the policeman asks.
Satori tears his eyes away from the empty doorway. He can hear the policewoman moving about in the kitchen. Is everything as it should be in there? He wonders. Turning towards the policeman, he studies the shiny face; he is about Satori’s age and has closely cropped strawberry-blond hair. ‘What?’ Satori asks.
‘A large dog. Did you see any large dogs the night before last, Mr…?’
Two amber eyes burn at him through the kitchen door as he watches the scarab beetles devour his murdered friend. He cannot suppress a shiver as he forces himself to focus on the policeman. ‘No, I didn’t,’ he says at last.
The policewoman returns to the room, empty-handed, and nods. Her colleague stands up and thanks Satori for his time. ‘If you remember anything, sir, or if you see a large dog, please call us straight away.’
Satori tries to give the officers a casual smile and follows them to the front door, locking it behind them. His strength deserts him and he falls to the floor, weeping silently.
Chapter 18
‘To Star,’ Satori lifts another glass of whisky and salutes the empty room.
Drink dulls the horror and terror of the day, but the spark of possibility burns as brightly as before—Star.
‘I love you,’ he murmurs into his glass. ‘I love you, and you came back.’ Remembering her defiance at Paul’s doorstep and her patient waiting at his own, he smiles but tears gather again in his eyes. She still loves him, even now, and yet he constantly betrays her trust, lies to her, manipulates her, and he doesn’t know whether he can stop. It’s like a disease. ‘Star, you have such power inside you. Why can’t you see it?’ I want to show you what you’re capable of. These visions, they’re the tip of an iceberg, my love. You have such beautiful, terrible depths. ‘Let me help you accept yourself. Come back to me.’
He sees her face on his pillow and kisses her insubstantial lips. ‘I want you,’ he tells the phantom. ‘Cleanse me, purify me. I’ve lost my way
. Show me the way back into your arms.’ His fingers trace the outline of her curls and she smiles. Without undressing, he rubs his body back and forth along the mattress, repeating her name, again and again, smiling and crying.
That night he can hardly sleep. Lilith and fear of death eclipsed by feelings of excitement - Star loves him. She loves him so much she was ready to challenge Paul for him. He misses her—the only beautiful, intelligent and independent girl he has ever dated. He loves the way she refuses to be cowed by him, and how she purrs when they make love—his pussycat, even the way she will always argue back – his tigress. She adores me and wants to be with me in spite of my eccentricities. When she arrives tomorrow he will seduce her, and then he will never let her go.
Satori wakes from his fitful sleep at 6 a.m. Only four hours until she’s due to arrive. After eating a bowl of cereal, his first jobs are to shave carefully and slowly, then shower. He is meticulous about this—spending ten minutes soaping and washing under his genitals. He rubs his dermis until it prickles, his pink skin hot beneath the sponge. One by one he cleans his ears, nose and between his toes. His hair is washed three times. He must be perfect.
Drying himself, although quicker, is equally systematic. He counts as he towels each toe and finger. He uses a light powder, expensive deodorant and her favourite cologne, the one she bought him for his last birthday. Then he temporarily ties his hair back and brushes each tooth and his tongue then gargles with mouthwash.
While his hair dries he paints his face. Normally he would save makeup for club-nights, but today he wants to look his very best for Star. He remembers how she would watch him get ready and realises he never watched her apply makeup. He wonders how long it takes her.
After stroking fragrant oil into his now dry hair, he flattens it between red hot straighteners. His hair shines like a dark halo around his face. Gazing at his mirror image, he smiles.
It is only nine o’clock. He paces the bedroom, willing it to be ten. He checks the clock, but his will has not altered time. Snorting, he sits on the bed. His mind clears and he sits motionless for ten minutes then remembers why Star is coming: Lilith. From his bag he pulls out the half-dozen books he took from Paul’s library, arranging them around the room. Some he opens while others remain closed and stacked in pairs. The effect is one of a person lost in endless study.
He selects a Dead Can Dance compact disc. Deep, tribal music washes over him like the ocean of an exotic country. The baseline is the perfect rhythm for sex.
Something small hits his window. He opens it and looks outside.
‘Didn’t you hear the doorbell?’ Star shouts up at him.
‘Sorry,’ he calls back. ‘The music, I’ll be right down.’
He follows her up the stairs. Now as always, he loves watching the way her hips move as she mounts each one. His fingers itch to hold them as they sway right, then left and right again, but he knows it is too soon.
Entering the room, she pauses as if unsure of herself. Then, perhaps spotting an open book on his bed, she crosses the floor. She sits on his black duvet and picks up the tome.
‘Have you found anything?’ she asks, skimming its pages.
He smiles. ‘First, would you like anything to drink?’
‘Um, yes please. Water would be great.’
He leaves her reading, doubting she will understand a word.
He puts ice and a slice of lemon in the mineral water he pours for her. He blows it a kiss, a small charm for luck, then pours his own glass from the tap and heads back up the stairs.
Hovering in the open doorway, he watches her. Her finger strokes each line as she tries to make sense of the ancient words. If it were anyone else he would chastise them for spreading acid over a book worth more than the house around them, but not her and not today. He just watches the small movements of her body. The slide of her hand across the page, the movement of her throat as she swallows, the rise and fall of her eyelids and the way her nostrils expand and contract as she breathes in and out, they all enchant him. Maybe she feels his gaze because she looks up to where he is standing and smiles.
‘Thank you,’ she says.
He sits next to her on the bed. Not too close, but close enough so that he can feel the energy around her body bump into his own.
‘Do you understand any of it?’ he asks.
‘No,’ she says, sighing.
‘Would you like me to teach you?’
She closes the book and turns her body to face him.
‘I think we have more pressing problems, don’t you?’ she says.
‘Of course,’ he answers, nodding. ‘I don’t have the answer yet.’
Her face falls and he sees accusation in her eyes. She thinks he’s been wasting time. Feelings of guilt burn his throat.
‘But I’m close to finding it,’ he says. ‘These books must contain the solution, but they’re riddles. Nothing in old magic is ever simple. I’m trying to work it out. I know I’m getting close.’
‘Okay,’ she says, lowering her eyes.
Her disappointment cuts him. This isn’t how he planned it. He needs to get her back.
‘Can I help?’ she asks.
Yes, he screams inside his mind, yes, yes, yes. ‘Of course you can help,’ he says aloud. ‘I could really use your help…’ with what, with what? ‘…With looking through this book for any references to Lilith. If you see her name anywhere mark the page number on…this notebook,’ he says, leaning across to his bedside table drawer and removing a leather-bound pocket book. He flicks to an empty page, and writes in a careful, elegant script. ‘This is what it will look like.’
‘What language is this, Satori?’ she asks.
Pleasure tickles him, hearing her speak his chosen name without prompting. ‘It’s Ancient Hebrew,’ he answers.
‘Can you actually read this?’ she asks. She looks up at him through wide eyes.
He feels her respect licking at his ego. ‘Only a little,’ he says. ‘The rest I have to use a dictionary for.’
‘I didn’t know.’ She sounds astonished.
He wants to tell her more. Explain how the language is numerical, and how meanings are layered upon meanings in each passage. Feeling like a child, eager for his parents’ approval, he wants to tell her the other ancient languages he taught himself to understand, so that he can replay that look of wonder and admiration again and again. Swallowing his words, he watches her. She is reading again. He drinks in the image of her as her fingers hover over the words. Her movements are faster this time, now she is dismissing all information except the one word for which she searches. He breathes deeply; her scent, mingled with that of the musty knowledge she holds, intoxicates him. He feels dizzy, and has to screw his eyes up tight to break his trance. Start working, he tells himself and reaches for a book.
Absorbed in the mysteries he is researching, time rushes past. A gurgling noise brings him back to the material world.
‘What was that?’ he asks.
Star blushes. ‘I’m sorry, it was my stomach. I skipped breakfast this morning.’
He grins at her. ‘I like it,’ he says. ‘It’s like your body is talking to me.’
He puts his book to one side, using a faded ribbon to mark his place for later. Boldly, he stretches his hand out towards her.
‘Come, I’ll make you some lunch. Mum went shopping last night so there’ll be loads to eat.’
She looks at his hand as if wondering whether to take it. Satori senses her confusion and steps backwards lowering his hand to his side. He bows his head in a way he hopes will say, as you wish. I am as always, your humble and grateful servant. She stands up and smiles, watching his face. He is sure she wants to say something, but is too frightened or shy. He hopes the unspoken words are a message of love. They could be. The possibility of it is in the air. The chemistry between them is obvious. Just take things slowly, he warns himself, all things come…
Satori prepares an enormous lunch by grabbing armfuls of food, pac
kets of cheeses, hummus, dips and salad from the American-style double door refrigerator, and bringing them to the kitchen table, laying them before Star like an offering. Then he takes a packet of pita breads from the cupboard, two plates and a new glass of water for each of them, fills and switches on the kettle.
‘Marian working today?’ Star asks, looking around the silent room.
‘Yep. The life of a lonely, only child, eh?’ he jokes.
She nods, smiling again. She’s smiled a lot today. More than Satori can remember her doing for a long time.
‘I feel your pain,’ she says.
He opens the bag of pitas for her and watches as she fills one with hummus and salad leaves. He unwraps a block of cheese and heads for the knife drawer.
She watches him slice it. He has to force himself to look at the knife rather than her. He doesn’t want to end this shared moment in a pool of blood.
‘Would you like some?’ he offers, passing a slice of cheese across the table.
She shakes her head, still chewing, her mouth full of food, then licks the hummus from her fingers. As he watches each digit enter her mouth his pulse quickens. He licks his lips, and she blushes.
‘Are you going to Club Midian tonight?’ she asks.
He shrugs. ‘I thought I’d keep looking through these books. Are you?’
She frowns, ‘I haven’t decided yet. Donna mentioned some play she got tickets for. I think it’s tonight.’
‘Are you sure Raven’ll let you miss it?’ he says, grinning.
Star snorts a half-laugh then sighs.
‘It’s got like that hasn’t it?’ Then quietly she adds, as if to herself. ‘I so need to get away.’
‘You could, you know.’ The words are out before he can stop them.
‘What?’ Star asks, looking up from her plate.
Satori looks at her. Fear of pushing her away again makes him swallow his words. ‘Nothing, sorry. How’s your lunch?’
‘Good, thank you. But Steve … Satori … whatever, I’m not sure what this is. But it isn’t a date, okay? I’m not coming back to you. I can’t … I won’t … I’m sorry.’ She pushes her plate away and gulps at her drink. ‘Back to the books,’ she says, and walks out of the kitchen without offering to help him clear up.
Starblood Trilogy Page 9