Starblood Trilogy

by Carmilla Voiez

  Freya sits at the breakfast table and watches her mother rock Jasmine. Coos of pleasure are vocalised by both grandmother and granddaughter. A new start, reconciliation and all it took was a baby.

  ‘How’s Rob?’ Lorraine asks, looking across at Freya.

  Freya swallows hard. ‘We split up, Mum.’

  Lorraine gasps. ‘Oh, darling. I’m so sorry.’

  Freya bows her head. She leans across the table, resting her forehead in a nest between her arms and weeps.

  ‘Baby.’ Lorraine sits opposite Freya at the table, still rocking Jasmine. ‘You can stay here for as long as you need. Do you want to talk about what happened?’

  Freya lifts her face from the table and shakes her head.

  ‘Well, whenever you do…’

  Lorraine stands up, leans forward and kisses Freya on the forehead.

  Jasmine grabs a fist full of Freya’s hair and pulls it as Lorraine straightens her back and rises. Silently, Freya touches the baby’s hand and unhooks her hair. Jasmine reaches out her arms towards her mother and makes a noise somewhere between a cry and a hiccup.

  ‘Do you want her back?’ Lorraine asks.

  ‘It’s fine, Mum, enjoy.’

  Her mother grins with joy and gratitude. ‘Babies are wonderful, don’t you think? They’re full of potential. It is too easy to damage them, even when you try hard not to, even when all you want to do is love them.’

  Freya sees tears gather in her mother’s eyes. ‘Mum, don’t.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Freya. All I’ve done is let you down. This precious little angel is so lucky to have you for a mother. I know you’ll do a better job than I.’

  ‘You were a great mum. No one should lose their daughter. We were fine until Tanya died. I understand what you did, how you felt, I really do. What happened isn’t your fault. It isn’t Dad’s fault either, although he seems to think so. The world is full of evil. You did your best to protect me and I love you.’

  Lorraine nods. ‘Here, you take her. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  Sobbing, her mother leaves the kitchen. Freya rocks Jasmine in her arms, smiling at the look of peaceful oblivion on the infant’s face. ‘You are lucky,’ she whispers.

  .

  Chapter 28

  Kevin nudges Mark’s shoulder.

  ‘Hello, Mr Garlow, sir,’ Mark says.

  Mr Garlow sits in the corner of the public bar. His back is so straight and his face so proud that he could be seated on a golden throne rather than a grimy leather couch. The man nods, a subtle movement of his glistening bald head. His beard is black and grey and his suit a deep blue. He doesn’t smile but his pale blue eyes shine.

  ‘Hello, Mark,’ Garlow replies. ‘Kevin has told me a lot about you. Please, take a seat.’

  Mark strides across to the man and sits on a wooden chair beside him. The difference in the chair heights mean that Mark towers over the man. He wonders for a moment whether this is appropriate then uncomfortably slouches in his chair to reduce the height differential as much as he can.

  ‘Tell me about yourself, kid. Why were you in the tunnels?’

  Mark shrugs. ‘I don’t have a home, or didn’t until Kevin took me in.’

  ‘Is he taking good care of you?’

  Mark nods.

  ‘He tells me you’re searching for your mother.’

  Mark nods again.

  ‘How did you lose her?’

  ‘She left me. One day a man came and she left with him. I haven’t seen her since.’

  ‘How old were you?’

  ‘I dunno, a baby, I guess.’

  ‘How much do you remember?’

  ‘She had black hair, a soft smile, and she would rock me in her arms.’

  ‘Kevin tells me she was very young.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so.’

  ‘Do you know why I wanted to see you?’

  ‘Kevin says you want me to fight.’

  ‘I have this little business. I hear you’re a fighter. Perhaps?’

  Mark nods. ‘Sure.’

  Garlow stares at the boy. ‘How old are you?’

  Mark shakes his head.

  ‘Thirteen?’ Garlow asks.

  ‘Yeah, thirteen.’

  Garlow leans forward and taps Mark’s knee. ‘I wonder…’

  Mark looks at the man waiting for more. His eyes widen as Garlow stands up and pulls his coat over his shoulders. He nods at Kevin who follows him out of the room.

  Mark straightens up in his chair. Dotted around the room are five other bald-headed men. Some wear suits, others jeans and short sleeved shirts. They drink and chat together. Occasionally one or two of them glance across at Mark then resume their conversations. Mark sighs. He feels twitchy. He wants to follow Kevin and Mr Garlow and find out what they’re discussing. He feels angry that they are talking about him without his presence. His cheeks prickle and he shifts in his chair.

  All eyes turn to him as he fidgets then the faces turn away one by one and the murmur of conversations begins again.

  Mark presses the palms of his hands together. Folding his fingers over his knuckles, he bounces his chin against their peaks. He scratches the top of his head then his neck, shuffles his shoulders and moves about in his chair again, leans forwards, rests his elbows on his knees and breathes into his palms. He starts again from the beginning, pressing his palms together, repeating the ritual until he can stay sitting no longer and stands up. He starts walking towards the door.

  A large man moves in front of him. ‘Where are you going, kid?’

  Mark glances at the door then faces the man. ‘Toilet.’

  The man nods and steps aside. Mark can feel eyes upon him as he walks towards the door marked “Gents”.

  As he washes his hands the door opens and Mark sees Kevin’s reflection in the mirror.

  ‘He’s gone,’ Kevin says.

  ‘What did he say about me?’ Mark asks.

  ‘He’s got a job for you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Not a fight, nothing happening there for the moment. A delivery.’

  ‘Oh?’ Mark reaches for the towel and recoils when he notices its black and cream patina of mould. He rubs his wet hands on his jeans instead.

  Kevin takes a package from his pocket and passes it to Mark. It feels light. He goes to open it.

  ‘No.’ Kevin shakes his head emphatically and passes Mark a piece of paper. ‘The address is on that.’

  ‘Are you coming with me?’ Mark asks.

  ‘Not this time, kid. Meet me back at the flat. Do you like curry? It’s curry night.’

  Chapter 29

  Satori stretches across his bed. He rubs his back against the familiar cotton cover, creasing the duvet around his body like a nest. Home. In spite of the fragrant fabric softener in the weft and weave below him and the slender webs of plaster cracks above, his room feels as alien to him as the cottage he shares with Star. He tries to remember the last time he felt that he was in a place where he could truly be himself. Somewhere no one would judge him for his imagination, his creativity, his love of adventure. The Planes – they were the only places he was free, the only worlds which understood and accepted his true value. He went there to find Star and ended up finding much more. He found faith in his abilities and acceptance of his frailties. There he could be anyone and do anything.

  He closes his eyes and tells his mind to return to Yesod with its violet shifting sky and bone white earth. He yearns to see Gabriel again, share stories and experiences with the angel, touch him.

  When he opens his eyes the brightness of the sky is blinding. He holds a hand across his forehead to shelter his eyes. The air moves around him, touching him, stroking his body, embracing him.

  The ivory soil beneath his feet is hard and cool. He leaves no imprints as he steps forwards. He scans the horizon for some hint of life, a shadow or column of smoke as before, something he can head towards. The agitated sky makes him feel dizzy. He closes his fingers around the metal obj
ect in his fist. Lifting it up, he sees his athame, his magical dagger, and smiles. He lifts it to the sky and calls ‘Gabriel, come to me.’

  Light bounces off the curved blade and whirls in a vortex. The air moves more quickly, a tunnel or typhoon ahead of him. Gabriel does not appear within its frantic walls. Satori waits a moment. The air keeps spinning, but nothing appears. He takes a step then another until he is surrounded by the whirlwind. He holds his knife in the air again and whispers. ‘Take me to him.’

  His body is pulled to the right. His neck jolts violently and he grabs it with one hand trying to relieve the pressure. He orders his bones to be supple - don’t snap. Satori is thrown to the ground, landing awkwardly on his knees. As he looks up he sees the beautiful naked man towering above him. With a gentle smile on his perfect lips the angel reaches an enormous hand towards Satori who grasps it and allows himself to be pulled to his feet. Even standing Satori barely reaches Gabriel’s chest.

  ‘Have you grown taller?’ Satori asks.

  Gabriel shrugs. ‘Welcome back, my friend. It’s been a long time. How are you, traveller? Did you save the woman?’

  ‘How long has it been?’ Satori asks.

  ‘Many years by human standards, I think, since the sun and moon embraced.’

  Satori nods. ‘The sun was the woman I was trying to save, Star.’

  Gabriel’s eyes widen. ‘You said she had power. I did not realise she was so magnificent.’

  ‘Not anymore,’ Satori answers.

  ‘You sound bitter, friend. Tell me what troubles you.’

  ‘She doesn’t love me.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I don’t think I love her anymore.’

  Gabriel shakes his head. ‘Is that a terrible thing?’

  ‘I don’t know how to do anything else.’

  ‘Nonsense.’

  Satori shrugs.

  ‘You are merely feeling sorry for yourself. Remember how much more you are. The loss of love can wound, but it cannot make you empty. You are love. Not just for one woman but for everyone and everything you see. All is one.’

  ‘And all is nothing.’

  ‘Yes. We are both everything and we are nothing. Does that frighten you?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘It shouldn’t. It’s a beautiful truth, if you can accept it. Satori, I’m about to make crupta, will you join me in my meal?’

  ‘I can’t. The rules will not let me eat here.’

  ‘Then what can I offer you, my friend?’

  ‘Your love.’

  ‘You already have it.’

  Satori smiles. ‘May I?’ he asks widening his arms.

  Gabriel smiles back. ‘You wish to hold me?’

  Satori nods. ‘Very much.’

  Gabriel cocks his head and stares at Satori. ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s hard to explain. I guess love for me needs a physical expression if it is to feel real.’

  ‘Physical expression?’ Gabriel shrugs. ‘You need the physical to express the metaphysical?’

  ‘Ummm, yes. I guess so.’

  ‘Very well then, friend. You may touch me.’

  Satori wraps his arms around Gabriel’s waist. The angel’s muscles feel hard and lumpy against his skin. Gabriel’s energy prickles him and Satori’s hair stands on end. He shakes as he tries to keep hold. His teeth chatter and his eyes roll back in their sockets. He bites his tongue and feels hot blood drip onto his chin. He lets go and looks up at Gabriel.

  ‘Did it hurt?’ Gabriel asks.

  ‘Less than I expected,’ Satori answers.

  Gabriel smiles. ‘Will you forgive me if I prepare my meal? You are welcome to sit with me. I enjoy listening to your wisdom and folly.’

  Satori sits on the hard earth beside the newly made fire. As before, a pot stands above the flames. The gentle aroma grows stronger as the broth warms.

  In the distance Satori hears the splintering of glass then a cry of rage. ‘Did you hear that?’

  ‘Hear what?’ Gabriel asks.

  Satori strains his ears. He hears shouting and the thud of something heavy hitting the floor. The violet sky stops moving. Colours fade until he is surrounded by the whitewashed walls of his bedroom. He sits up on his bed, in his room and hears his mother scream.

  Chapter 30

  Mark looks again at the address on the piece of paper. The streets all look the same and he has no idea in which direction he should travel.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he calls to a woman striding past. If she hears him she fails to show any indication.

  Mark sighs and sits on a bench turning the paper over and over in his hand. ‘What now?’

  He looks up at passing business people, mothers, children, elderly couples and lonely looking people wandering solo. He wonders what he’s doing. These people: Kevin and Garlow, they’re a distraction from my purpose. I know why I’m here and it isn’t to deliver packages. He lets his eyes wander between the people who surround him, ever moving, and wonders whether they have a purpose and what has distracted them from completing it. Is this what life here means, doing things without a goal? Living in the moment, getting by second by second, how can they stand it?

  Clutching the paper in his hand, he walks towards a white haired man who sits quietly on a bench a dozen metres or so away.

  ‘Excuse me.’ Mark sits beside the old man.

  ‘Hello, son,’ the man replies.

  ‘Can you help me?’

  ‘What’s the trouble, kid? Hey, shouldn’t you be in school?’

  ‘Day off.’ Mark passes the man the piece of paper. ‘Do you know where this is?’

  The man pulls a pair of glasses from his coat and studies the note. ‘Yeah, sure. I grew up around there. You need to catch the…now which bus is it? ...hmmm, oh yes the number 9 bus. You’ll head out of town and under the motorway. When you get to a rank of shops…hmmm, what’s there now? Yeah, I reckon it’s a ladies hairdressers, ummm, a hardware store, and a flower shop, yeah.’ The old man nods thoughtfully. ‘I’m pretty sure they’re all still there. Oh and there’s some supermarket and an estate agents, yeah that’s right. Or is it a travel agents? Hmmm… no estate agents, I’m sure it is. Well, get off the bus at the shops and you’ll be on a hill. Walk up the hill towards a telecommunications tower. You’ll see it. Pierces the sky, it does. It would take me about 20 minutes, I reckon, so it should only take you five. You’ll see a road called…Church Lane, no Church Terrace, well something like that. Walk along that road, past the church and you’ll come to a bend in the road.’ The man’s body sways as if he is turning a corner in his mind. ‘Go round that bend, there used to be an old play park on the right hand side. Don’t know if it’s still there though… probably houses now. Go past the play park, if it’s still there, and you’ll see a narrow road which is kind of steep. That’s the road you’re looking for.’

  Mark scratches his neck. ‘Thank you, sir. So the number nine bus?’

  ‘Yup, I reckon so lad. They’re pretty regular. I think there’s a stop close to the cinema, just over the way. I can’t remember the name of the cinema. It’s one of the old ones. Pretty. I remember having dates there when I was young. Always took my lady friends to the cinema. Do you like films, son?’

  ‘Ummm, yes sure. Look, thank you. I guess, I guess I’d better go or I’ll be late.’

  ‘No problem, son. Have a great day.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I will. Thanks again.’

  ‘No bother at all. It’s a pleasure chatting with such a polite young man. You take care and don’t forget school’s important. Best days of your life.’

  Mark smiles. ‘I’ll remember, Thanks again. Goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye, kid.’

  Mark stares at the road sign and checks the paper in his hand, a match. He starts climbing the steep hill. Blocks of flats on either side make the space feel claustrophobic, narrower than it should be, like a tunnel. He looks up, half expecting to see a roof of rock or concrete, but the sky hangs above him, d
ull and grey. Dark clouds threaten rain.

  He reads numbers on the sides of the buildings. ‘Forty to Fifty two… Fifty four to sixty six… Sixty eight to Eighty.’ He checks the note again, one hundred and six. ‘Eight two to Ninety four… ninety six to one hundred and eight.’ He walks up to the narrow door and studies an arrangement of buttons on the right. He locates 106 and presses. No answer. He waits a few moments and presses again.

  ‘Hello.’ A female voice crackles.

  ‘Hi, it’s Mark.’

  ‘Mark who?’

  ‘Garlow sent me.’

  ‘Wait there a moment. I’ll be right down.’

  Mark turns around and looks along the street. So many dwellings, so many lives and yet the street is deserted.

  The door clicks behind him and he turns around to face a woman with short, blonde hair. A dressing gown or housecoat is pulled tightly around her. She exudes a smell like nothing he has encountered before: repugnantly sweet and bitter. His nostrils are filled with the evil scent. It disturbs him and he considers thrusting the envelope into her clawed hand and leaving. He dips his hand into his pocket, but she shakes her head and touches him arm so gently it feels like a butterfly flies between the hairs of his forearms.

  ‘Come inside,’ she says.

  He looks around at the empty street again, longing to be gone from this place.

  ‘Inside,’ she whispers in his ear.

  Her breath makes his stomach churn. He stands at the doorway shaking.

  ‘What’s wrong, kid?’ she asks.

  ‘I have to go,’ he says.

  ‘This won’t take long,’ she answers. ‘Come on. Hurry up.’

  He takes his hand from his pocket leaving the package inside. She nods and moves back from the doorway into the shadows. Her insistence that he follow her makes him bristle, but he does so anyway. He breathes the external air as though he expects it to be his last breath and follows her.

  She mounts the stairs as he watches her from the bottom.

  ‘Well, come on then,’ she urges.

  They climb three flights. The sharp bones of her slender hips stab at the air as she moves. He has never felt more uncomfortable in the presence of a woman.