Starblood Trilogy

by Carmilla Voiez

  ‘The people in white, my mum, who are they?’

  ‘I don’t know. She called me a demon. She said they had a place for me. She didn’t tell me anymore than that.’

  Satori narrows his eyes and stares at the boy. ‘Are you a demon?’

  ‘Of course not. Do I look like a demon?’

  Satori shakes his head. ‘No, not at the moment. Okay, let me think. Star, how do you know her and what do you want with her?’

  ‘It’s complicated.’

  Complicated? Who is my mother? Is Dad dead? Who were the other people, the ones who came out of nowhere, the woman I hit? Why did I forget it all until now? ‘Complicated, how?’

  Mark fidgets in his seat. ‘It’s so cold. Can we move closer to the fire?’

  Satori rubs his hands together. ‘It’ll warm up. Tell me about Star.’

  Mark wraps his arms around his body and shivers. His teeth chatter theatrically. ‘Okay. I was told if I found her she’d have the answers I need.’

  ‘What answers?’ Answers…so many questions and so few answers. How does Star fit into this puzzle?

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not supposed to discuss it with anyone other than her. Can you take me to her?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I want to protect her.’ I don’t trust you. How can I trust anyone? Fuck! How can I even trust myself?

  Mark frowns. ‘You think I’ll hurt her?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think. You haven’t told me anything yet. I know you’re on the run. I know you felt drawn to me and that Mum wants to hurt you for some reason. I’d never seen those people in white before today and I’ve lived with Mum all my life. It just doesn’t make sense to me.’ Wait…that’s not true. Still, I don’t need to tell him anything. Think, Satori, think.

  ‘Nor me.’

  ‘Okay, Garlow, what about this man Garlow?’ How does he fit into all this?

  ‘He’s this guy. I met him through a couple of violent yobs. He’s given me some delivery jobs. I don’t really know much about that either. I’ve just done what I was told. Ever since I got here I’ve been following someone’s instructions.’

  Is that what I’ve been doing? All those years of feeling unique and powerful, is it all a lie? No. Wait. What did Mum say? “Years ago you chose a path of your own.” I have travelled my own path. What did she want for me? Why can’t I remember? And how does this boy fit in? Is Mark the danger about which Mum warned? A demon? He doesn’t feel like a demon. He feels human. Although there is a power deep inside of him. He holds it at bay, but it bubbles at his core, like Star’s.

  Mark fumbles in his pocket and pulls out an envelope. ‘I had to drop a packet to a woman and she gave me two envelopes. I delivered one and I was supposed to hand this to Garlow, but I came to you instead. I guess the rest is history.’

  ‘What’s in it?’

  ‘I don’t know. Money probably.’

  Satori leans forward and holds out his hand. ‘Can I see?’

  ‘Are you going to open it?’ Mark blushes. He looks nervous.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t know if we should. What if I piss Garlow off? What if he finds me? He’d hurt me. He has the eyes of a shark. Yours is the first friendly face I’ve seen here.’

  Satori keeps his hand, palm up, in the space between them. ‘He won’t find you here?’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘I’m sure that, if you want me to trust you enough to take you to Star, you need to trust me enough to show me that envelope.’

  Mark shrugs. ‘I guess…’

  He hands the envelope to Satori who turns it over in his hand. Apart from the letter G scribbled on the front it has no further information on the outside. He squeezes the paper. It does not feel like money inside. The envelope is too thin for a wad of notes and too stiff for a single note. ‘I’m going to open it.’

  Mark leans forwards as Satori tears open the envelope. He pulls a photograph out, turns it over and studies the image. He shows it to Mark then looks at it again more closely. What can it mean? It is a photo of a raven’s head. The raven has a red ribbon tied around its beak. Satori looks in the envelope, but there is nothing else inside. He shows the empty envelope to Mark then passes both to the kid. More questions and no new answers. ‘Any ideas?’

  Mark looks at the photo and shakes his head. ‘None. Do you think it’s a warning?’

  ‘Who gave it to you?’

  ‘A woman.’

  ‘What was she like?’

  ‘Strange. She smelt odd. Her flat was dark and a bit insane to be honest. I thought she might be a witch.’

  ‘Maybe it’s a curse.’ Satori touches the raven’s beak. A face nudges into his thoughts, pale and beautiful.

  ‘A curse on Garlow?’

  ‘Or he ordered a curse from her for someone else and this is the proof that she’s carried out his instructions.’ Raven? Can it be a coincidence? I need to be alone. I need to remember and understand.

  ‘I don’t know. Garlow didn’t seem…well, he’s just this guy who has a load of skinheads doing who knows what for him. He’s like a gangster or something, but he didn’t seem spiritual in the slightest. I think he runs illegal boxing rings, probably money lending and that kind of thing, intimidation maybe, but he’s got muscle for that. The photo, the raven, they don’t make any sense to me.’

  ‘Yeah. Raven and a ribbon. Raven and a red ribbon…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It has nothing to do with this situation at all. It just reminds me of an old friend. Someone I should have treated better when I had the chance.’ One regret among thousands.

  Mark nods. ‘Funny how that goes. No hope of a second chance?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Shame. I reckon everyone needs a second chance.’

  Satori frowns. His mind is full of the bird’s image. He squeezes his eyelids tightly together then opens them again. ‘I’ve already had mine. It didn’t work out as I’d hoped.’

  Mark rests his hands on his knees and leans forward. ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘Sure sometime. What about you? Tell me about your second chance, Mark. What are you hoping to put right?’

  ‘My life.’ Mark laughs self-consciously.

  ‘I see.’

  They sit in silence. Mark stares at the photograph while Satori lets his eyes wander over the bookshelves recalling that first time when he was here in this room with Paul and Star and how different things had seemed, different but the same. She didn’t love me then, either. I just tried to convince myself of her devotion. I was a fool. Somehow it’s all connected: Star, Mum, Mark, Raven, being here in Paul’s house. I’m performing in a play, but I don’t know the script. Think, Satori, think.

  Get some sleep and let my unconscious mind explore the puzzle. It’s too much for my exhausted consciousness. ‘It’s getting late. Let’s check the rest of the house and see if the bedrooms are usable. Are you going to be okay food wise? I doubt there’s anything here, but I’d prefer to head out and buy some stuff tomorrow when things have, hopefully, died down a bit. Will you cope or are you hungry?’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Mark says. ‘I’m more tired than hungry.’

  ‘Are you sure your head’s okay? Do you feel sick as well as tired?’

  ‘Honestly, I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse. Let’s go and check the house. Or we could curl up in these chairs in front of this lovely fire.’

  ‘I won’t be able to sleep until I know the house is empty. You can wait here if you want,’ Satori says.

  ‘No, I’m good. I’ll come with you. I’d like to know where the bathroom is anyway.’

  ‘Bathrooms,’ Satori says.

  ‘Ahhh, of course.’

  ‘You’ve seen the kitchen,’ Satori says. ‘Or what’s left of it.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘This is the living room.’ Satori wanders into the large living room where he had once
burned Paul’s clothes. Shivers run up and down his spine as he remembers the ticking sounds of the scurrying scarab beetles that devoured his friend’s remains.

  The room, while slightly shabby, has not been affected by dust in the same way as Paul’s hallway. The furniture still holds much of its sumptuous splendour. Most of the ornaments are missing. Perhaps they were removed as evidence by the police, or stolen by whoever broke through the French doors. His artwork remains, however, gracing the walls: huge oils and watercolours and original sketches including a uniquely disturbing framed picture by Crowley.

  Satori moves the heavy curtains and opens the large cabinet aware that Mark is studying him. ‘No one here,’ he says. ‘Dining room next.’

  The dining room and downstairs bathroom are checked thoroughly for signs of human occupation. The bathroom looks unused and the dining room is still laid with plates and glassware as if awaiting dinner guests.

  ‘I guess we should check the cellar as well,’ Satori says. ‘I hope the lights still work down there.’

  Some of the light bulbs must have failed over the years, however there is still enough light to safely descend the narrow staircase and check the shadowy rooms for anyone who might be hiding there.

  ‘Do you hear it?’ Mark asks. ‘What happened here?’

  Satori stands still. Wind whistles through a gap in the tiny window frame at the top of the room. ‘It’s just the wind.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ Mark answers.

  Satori listens again. On the edge of his perception he hears the cries of children. He shivers as he remembers the remains he discovered here before. The bones of children had lain in this cellar, casualties of Paul’s magical experiments and carnal lusts. The police must have removed those too. The flagstones are uneven where they were carelessly replaced after the raid.

  ‘I don’t hear anything except the wind.’ Satori walks swiftly past Mark towards the stairs. He spots an upturned flashlight on a worktable and grabs it. It feels heavy in his hand, like a bludgeon. ‘There’s no one here. We’ll check upstairs.’

  Satori hovers in the doorway of Paul’s bedroom. The rest of the house is empty and, other than the chill in the air, perfectly habitable. In the morning they would do well to clean bed linen and tidy the kitchen, but for tonight it will do. Just this last room to check.

  He pushes the door further open. The curtains are drawn. He reaches for the light switch, but like many others around the house it doesn’t work. He sweeps the beam of the borrowed flashlight around the furniture.

  Mark shuffles about behind him. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yes. Just…memories.’

  ‘I can check it out.’

  ‘Would you?’ Satori asks.

  ‘Sure. Hand me the torch.’

  Satori moves back from the doorway and passes the torch to Mark. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘No problem.’ Without hesitating further Mark steps into the room. The invisible barrier Satori felt in the doorway does not seem to bother Mark at all. The beam from the torch flashes around the room. ‘It’s fine. It’s empty. Probably the best room in the house. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.’

  ‘Feel free. I’ll take the room at the rear. In fact, I think I’m ready to try and get some sleep. See you in the morning, Mark.’

  ‘Goodnight, Satori.’

  Satori shrugs out of his clothes and collapses onto the meagre single bed. The blankets smell musty, but he pulls them around himself in spite of this. He looks around the shadow-filled room. In one corner stands a large wooden wardrobe still full of clothes. At the wall opposite his bed is a chimney breast with a guard in front of the fireplace. On the outside wall large, moth-eaten drapes attempt to cover the window. Beside these a full length oval mirror on a stand, thankfully, tilts away from the bed. Satori isn’t afraid of many things but reflections in the night have always unnerved him.

  Chapter 38

  The safe house Satori proposes is too grandiose for Mark’s taste. It has none of the elegant simplicity of Lilith’s villa. Its dark stone fascia looks modern and pretentious. The gates are locked. Together, he and Satori traverse a neighbour’s garden to access the grounds. Mark has no trouble subduing the dogs.

  As they approach the building Mark feels cold. Like the witch’s apartment this building reeks of evil. It is a uniquely human smell. Not the evil which amoral gods might inflict without thought. This has a purpose, a driving force and a conscious wickedness unique to this world and these people.

  Shattered glass from the forced French doors covers the kitchen floor. It cracks under his feet as he crosses the room. The walls and floor remind him of painted hideouts he frequented, as a homeless youth, when he first arrived on Earth, confused and disorientated. The same confusion mixed with impotent anger radiates from the graffiti and destruction. Spoiling beautiful things seems a human reaction to lack of power, purpose and possessions. Perhaps these vandals simply want the things others take for granted. He can understand that. The absence of his mother is a constant hole in his chest. As he watched Lilith form spirit into flesh in Binah, he often wished he could regain the parental bonds they would soon receive.

  ‘Lilith,’ Satori says.

  The name seems out of context. Mark pauses before answering. He struggles to recall the conversation that led to this naming. He chastises himself for allowing his focus to wander. Of course, he’s telling me which demon killed the owner – Lilith. Good for her.

  ‘Nobody important then?’ Mark laughs at the irony of this statement. Lilith – guardian, teacher, lover - the second most important person in my existence.

  Satori keeps talking. He fills the heavy stillness with questions about magic as if eager to bond. Mark answers without processing the questions fully. His mind is on other things. His ears capture the sound of terrible suffering beyond the kitchen door. Dozens of screams fill his mind.

  The hallway beckons. They walk towards it. The wooden floor wears a shroud of dust, undisturbed by footprints. The dust looks more than a few years old. It looks as though some deity laid it here in remembrance and reverence, a way of marking this place as sacred and untouchable: a psychic “do not disturb” sign.

  Satori takes the first step into the hallway, disturbing the stillness. Behind Satori’s back, Mark shakes his head at the man’s irreverence. It is as though Satori feels he has the right to use or despoil whatever he chooses. Mark’s bitterness towards the man who stole his mother away turns into a simmering hatred of everything Satori is and stands for.

  He watches the back of Satori’s head as the man strides across the floor, arrogant and uncaring, oblivious to the suffering that happened here. Mark’s fists shake as he fights the desire to push this arrogant fool to the ground and smash his skull open, repairing the damaged dust of shed skin with Satori’s blood.

  He pushes his rage into his stomach and promises to savour it later. The protective spell on the hallway is broken and the wails of agony and despair are silenced, at least for the moment. Mark breathes deeply and takes a step out of the kitchen and into character.

  ‘Wow!’ he exclaims.

  Mark’s reaction seems to please Satori and he is rewarded with a smile. The man starts talking again, asking questions Mark does not wish to answer. The boy is led into a room, a library. Together they sit while Satori drills him for information. He answers each question obliquely.

  He remembers the envelope in his pocket and uses it to distract Satori’s attention. The man is intrigued. He wants to know what’s inside and the more Mark protests the more eager Satori becomes. The flimsy envelope becomes a prize beyond value. Satori’s eyes darken; he will not be denied. He is used to getting what he wants. Mark gains pleasure from Satori’s suffering and discomfort. To be denied knowledge or experience is more than some men can bear.

  With a shrug, Mark hands the envelope to Satori. The man’s hand shakes as his fingers make contact with the paper. He tears it open and pulls out a photograph.

  Mark s
tudies the picture, confused for a moment as to what it might mean. A raven with a ribbon tied around its beak. Raven! That’s how I will purge the board of knight and bishop. Raven.

  Satori suggests they search the rest of the house before retiring for the evening. As they open the cellar door and descend into the half-light, the tortured screams return. Mark feels punched back by the force of the spirits’ rage and despair. ‘Do you hear it?’

  Satori claims it is only the wind yet the man shivers with discomfort.

  The shadow of a man rises from the flagstones. A child hangs limply from his outstretched arms. The man’s hands squeeze the boy’s throat, but the child does not fight back. Perhaps he is already dead.

  Entrails spiral out across the floor. The shadow-man studies the bloody gore, nodding as if with some new insight. Flames leap around the man. He laughs. Laughter morphs into screams as hands reach through the flames, dragging him downwards.

  ‘We’ll check upstairs.’ Satori tramples through the spectral flames.

  Mark blinks the vision from his eyes before following in his father’s footsteps.

  Chapter 39

  Sleep comes quickly. In his dream Satori sees his tower, the one he created before his journey across the planes of existence. He cranes his neck to see the narrow windows and peak of the building. He wants to climb the cairn and walk inside but his staircase is missing. He tries climbing the hill, anyway. It is steep and every time he pushes himself upwards he slips back down to the base.

  He turns around, expecting to see the forest that used to surround this cairn and tower. Instead of trees, he sees an endless bleak desert, full of dirty mustard-coloured sand.

  Slowly, he turns back to the tower. The mound has levelled. His tower remains, but its foundations now rest on the same sand he sees in every direction.

  He takes a step towards the building, imagining the warmth inside: the library, chair and whisky. A low rumble echoes around the desert. He stops walking and stares at the tower. The sand ahead crumbles and parts and a shape moves upwards between Satori and his tower. Black curls and a pale oval face – Star. She rises higher, holding her arms out on either side. In each hand she holds a terracotta jug. She rises further and her torso lifts above the sand. She is defiled and ruined. Her body, like it was in Binah, is broken. The gaping cavern in her stomach reveals bloodied entrails. Heart and lungs, still pulsing, frame the horrifying void and below this her legs are covered in the black scales of a giant wyrm’s head.