Lorraine plants a kiss on Jasmine’s forehead. ‘Well, maybe it would be better if he told you. It’s kind of complicated.’
‘In what way, complicated?’ Freya’s stomach churns.
Lorraine stares at the baby while she speaks. ‘They are sort of dating.’
‘What! But she’s with Satori.’
‘Not so much.’
‘They live together, don’t they?’ Freya’s skin crawls. She scratches her scalp and frowns.
‘They’ve been having problems for a while. As I understand it, Satori moved out.’
‘Because she is having an affair with…Ivan?’
Lorraine shakes her head. ‘Sarah’s okay.’
‘What do you mean, Sarah’s okay? You mean she’s good enough for your only son? You mean she’s good enough for my…brother?’
Lorraine coos at the baby. ‘Shhh, darling. You’ll wake Jasmine.’
Freya ignores her mother’s request. Her voice is loud and shrill. ‘I don’t believe this, Mum. How long has he been seeing her?’
‘They’ve been close for years.’ Lorraine’s voice remains calm and low. She doesn’t look up at Freya as if worried that eye contact will provoke her daughter further.
‘Close? What does that mean? Don’t you know she’s a murderess?’ Freya stops suddenly and looks at her hands. She shivers remembering Dave and the way she punctured his chest with her ambition. She thinks of Rob, wings of blood spread around his corpse in their bed. Was that me too?
‘She’s not a murderess. All that nonsense was dropped years ago.’
‘It was?’
‘Yes. There was no evidence to prove anything. You’ve met her. Can you imagine that shy, sweet little girl killing anyone? I mean really, Freya, it’s like saying you’re a murderess. It’s nonsense.’
Freya nods. ‘So he’s with her now?’
‘He’s staying there a few days while she gets herself sorted.’
Freya stands up. ‘Maybe I should go over there and see if I can help.’
‘They’ll be okay. Leave them too it.’
‘What’s the address, Mum?’
Lorraine lifts her face and stares at Freya. Her eyes harden and she slowly shakes her head. ‘I said leave it, Freya.’
Jasmine kicks her legs and starts murmuring.
‘Shhh, sleep Sweetheart,’ Lorraine croons.
The murmurs get louder until they become a whimper then a scream.
‘Let me take her, Mum. She’ll be hungry.’ Freya walks across to her mother and holds out her arms.
‘But you haven’t had your breakfast yet,’ Lorraine says.
‘I’ll have it later. Give me my baby please, Mum.’
Lorraine looks at the red screaming face and agitated body cradled in her arms and passes the baby to Freya. Freya snatches Jasmine and hurries with her to the sofa. She lifts her pyjama top and lets the baby latch on greedily.
‘She’s beautiful,’ Lorraine says.
‘Yes she is,’ Freya agrees.
‘She reminds me of you.’
Freya studies the baby in her arms and tries to see Rob in her puffy cheeks and button nose. He isn’t there. She can only see herself in those soft blue eyes and shell-like ears. There is nothing masculine about her. Even her wispy hair is white-blonde like Freya’s, not strawberry like Rob’s. She could just as easily be any man’s daughter, Ivan’s daughter, except that is impossible. She hasn’t had sex with Ivan, magical or otherwise, for four years.
The thought that Jasmine belongs to her alone fills Freya with pride and dread. She strokes the baby’s downy hair and sings softly. Lorraine watches from the other side of the room. Jasmine reaches a tiny hand towards Freya’s face and Freya bends to kiss her fingers. The baby takes its mouth from Freya’s breast and smiles at her mother. The smile is warm and pure and honest. The infant remains untainted by fear and hate, for that Freya envies her.
As Jasmine falls asleep again Freya turns her face towards her own mother who smiles at the tender exchange. ‘Want her back?’
Lorraine grins. ‘Of course. Are you going somewhere?’
Freya passes Jasmine between Lorraine’s open arms. ‘Just in the garden for some fresh air.’
Lorraine cradles the baby. Her face is peaceful. ‘It’s cold out there. Wrap up warm.’
Freya steps out of the kitchen door into the garden. The garden where she was caught spying on her brother and where her midnight dance was interrupted by her father who feared for her sanity. The branches of Ivan’s tree are decorated with ribbons he attached years ago. The once vibrant colours have faded. Now drab rags hang from the branches. It looks as though nothing new has been tied there for years. Freya wonders whether he has lost his faith. Did I steal it from him?
Star. Why? What is so special about Star? Why is Star always at the centre of everybody’s world? She’s no prettier than I am. She’s vulnerable and weak, always sad, always moaning about something or someone. I’m sharp and funny. I have power. What has she got: red hair which she hides with black dye, and a downturned mouth? Why are all the heroines sad and pitiful? When does the clever, sassy girl get her turn? When will I be adored?
Rob adored me. He worshipped me. He never wanted to leave the apartment or me to go to work. Then Jasmine came along. He still loved me. He held me in his arms with fierce pride and joy in his eyes, and smile. He watched me while I fussed with her, fed her or bathed her, but it was as if he was too awed. He saw me as a life-creating goddess and when we made love it was as if he was praying. My pedestal became too high and wobbled. It was only a matter of time before I came crashing down, but did I kill him? No. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I loved him.
She touches a damp ribbon. It is the shade of mother of pearl. She tries to imagine what the original colour would have been. Red perhaps? Its vibrancy and energy faded over the years. It faded like her relationship with Rob had faded. It became mediocre and inconsequential, lost in a crowd of other loves, other ribbons.
She sits under the tree. The dampness of the grass penetrates through the denim of her jeans. Ivan and Star! How the fuck did that happen? She digs her heel into the soft earth and kicks. A clump of earth and grass bounces across the lawn away from her. Fucking Star! Fucking privileged Princess! Everyone’s fucking favourite, even Lilith’s.
She remembers Donna weeping about Star’s absence, burning herself when the heat of her passion went unanswered. She remembers Raven’s broken body being carried from the club, simply because she dared to touch Star’s cast-offs. She remembers how Satori rejected Freya, after he’d fucked me of course. You couldn’t expect that reptile to be a gentleman. He told me he loved Star, would always love Star. So why did he leave, unless Star broke his heart - broke his heart by sleeping with MY fucking brother?
Fucking Star! Fucking Ivan! I hate them both. How dare they do this to me, laughing at me while I watch their performance from the wings of the stage? Always the understudy, never the star. If I let her, she’ll destroy Ivan. She’ll destroy him like she destroyed Donna and Raven and Satori. She’s poison. I have to stop her. There’s only one way.
Then Ivan can come home and we’ll be a family again: Dad, Mum, Ivan, me and Jasmine. We can be whole. We can heal the wound of my sister’s death and we can move on at last, together.
Chapter 43
The chamber looks like the interior of a cathedral. Walls sweep upwards in a wide oval arch, so high Satori cannot see the apex. To his left rock outcrops make a huge altar with a ledge above it. On the ledge, two vultures crouch. One stretches its wings, the other follows Satori’s movements with its head.
He walks towards the altar. Water flows from a fissure onto and over it like a moving altar-cloth. The water looks and smells fresh. A sudden movement makes him jump and a bright green frog leaps through the waterfall towards Satori. Moving his feet, he lets it hop past unobstructed. It moves away, towards the opposite end of the room and three figures. The trio stand close to the opposite wall, around
thirty metres from Satori. Naked, they dance with each other, slowly, as if in a trance. He walks towards them, checking the floor to ensure he does not tread on the frog.
As he approaches, he recognises one of the figures. Star bends over with her hand between her thighs. She masturbates. Her eyes are full of lust and her throat emits bestial grunts. The other two figures are male. They watch Star play with her genitals. Satori sees the appreciation in their faces and massive, swollen cocks.
One of the men, a blond Adonis, moves behind Star. He wraps his arms around her body and tugs and squeezes her breasts. Star unfolds her body and leans her head against the man’s chest, sighing in pleasure.
Satori watches open-mouthed as the man penetrates Star. Satori’s head spins. It can’t be Star yet he feels jealous. At the same time, his jeans feel tighter as he grows hard with excitement.
The other man has deep bronze skin. His jet black hair moves around the nape of his neck. Star kisses him while he wraps his arms around her and squeezes her ass cheeks. His cock presses against her stomach. He bends his back and angles his hips so that it slides between her legs then he too pushes inside the woman. The three of them grope, kiss and fuck each other. Star’s body bounces between the two men as she rides them both with an almost grotesque look of ecstasy on her face. Her mouth hangs open and her tongue lolls from its cavern. Her face is flushed. Her eyes, glazed with lust, turn towards Satori, but she seems oblivious to his presence.
The man behind her, eagerly fucking her ass, squeezes her breasts so hard that they redden and bruise. Her nipples swell beneath the pressure. Milk sprays from them and hits the darker man’s face.
A third man, no boy, approaches the group. Satori gasps. The kid looks like Mark. Mark at least does seem to sense Satori’s presence. He turns and nods politely before joining the orgy. One delicate hand grabs each of the men’s buttocks while Mark’s mouth opens to catch the spray of breast milk.
Satori wants to run away, but is unable to move from the spot. He watches, both aroused and horrified. He hits his temple with his left fist while opening his jeans and pulling his erect penis from them with his right hand.
He hates himself for his excitement. It makes him feel perverted and wicked. It humbles him, the same way he felt when he had ached for Lilith. But he cannot stop. The punches to his face do nothing to dull his lust. He squeezes his cock tightly in his right fist and tugs, back and forth, back and forth until he explodes in blessed relief.
His semen spurts into the air before him. The cathedral breathes life into each squirt. He watches mesmerised as his ejaculated sperm floats and moves before him, changing shape continuously, becoming a figure, a face, a beast then a gargoyle with a huge tongue and horns. Horrors move before him more terrible than the scene of base lust beyond.
The separate horrors created by Satori’s expended seed press together. A white translucent face grows in the air. Its eyes are huge, its nose flat and wide. It opens its toothless mouth in a soundless scream. White insects drop from its lolling tongue onto Satori’s hair and shoulders. He brushes them off and steps back, shaking.
A female form with a solitary leg, which twists like witch hazel, grows from the ground. Her body sways. Her breasts swell and shrink as if pushed outwards by an internal hand then released. She reaches towards him. The claws at the end of her slender fingers are as twisted and misshapen as her leg.
An albino wolf shakes itself and splashes of the semen that created it scatter on the ground. Each grows into a new wolf until a pack of hundreds of lupines snarl at Satori. They squat on their haunches, ready to pounce. Hungry eyes like stars fill his vision. His head spins and pain spreads from his frontal lobe to the back of his skull. His head pulses with the rhythm of his heart. He covers his eyes with his hands, trying to shut out the light. The eyes get closer. He sees them through his eyelashes and the cracks between his fingers. They press against him. Their moisture presses into his ears and nose. Pulling his hands from his eyes, he tries to beat them away. Screaming, he falls to his knees and rocks his body back and forth.
The horrors keep changing. Eyeballs become rats which make him jump back to his feet. The rats grow tattered wings like bats with rope tails. They push him back. His brain swims. He cannot think. The world splits before him and horrors crawl up from the bowels of hell to consume his soul.
Chapter 44
Mark dives through the empty floor after the shadow. His feet hit stone and he flexes his knees to soften his landing. He stands in the shadowy corner of a cavern. In the centre stands Satori. Mark watches his father’s face twist in pain and disgust, and smiles. How easily humans can be manipulated by their petty jealousies and insecurities.
Between Mark and his father, there is an orgy of sorts. At its centre stands a shadow figure, Star.
He watches, neither aroused nor disgusted by the fornicating spectres. His mother’s face has a strange beauty that only sex or pain can reveal. Her cheeks look flushed. Her eyes hooded and her mouth opens and closes in the parody of a kiss.
Satori shakes as he watches the scene.
How ironic it is that a person as sexually free as Satori, a man who has manipulated others’ emotions without guilt, should view this scene as something obscene. Perhaps it is jealousy rooted in possessiveness or perhaps, for once, it’s because he is not the centre of attention.
Mark steps out of the shadow.
Satori does not turn towards him. The man’s attention does not waver from the trio before him. The squeezing of milk filled breasts, the eager fucking of Star’s holes and her face transformed by obscene pleasure, perhaps Satori is disturbed that he has never seen his beloved look at him in that way? Perhaps he feels that he has never been enough?
Instead of approaching his father, Mark strides towards the lust-filled trio. He smiles as he faces away from Satori wondering what new torment he might inflict on the trembling man. Shadow-Star’s breasts drip with milk. The stimulation of the blond man’s fingers on her left breast increases the flow until her milk becomes a fountain, a jet of white, life-supporting fluid. Mark feels Satori’s recognition as he steps into his father’s blinkered view and turns to nod in acknowledgement. Bending his knees, Mark stands before the shadow-woman and catches her milk in his mouth. Some spills over his chin. It is warm and sweet.
He stretches out his arms and caresses the firm buttocks of both men. Although he feels aroused, he cannot tear his thoughts away from the observer. The thought of Satori watching the display makes him want to cry out with laughter. To stifle this desire Mark bends towards Star, filling his mouth with her breast. His lips surround her nipple.
On the edge of his hearing, beyond the lust-filled pants and moans, he is aware of sounds emanating from Satori. The man makes deep, low noises. His grunts suggest that he is masturbating as he watches, but these sounds are choked by fear, shame and horror. They intrigue Mark and he wants to tear himself away from the orgy to experience in full the distress and confusion his performance is causing. He grins and bites the shadow-woman’s breast and her groans become louder. He stretches her nipple between his teeth turning his head just enough to catch glimpses of the scene beyond.
A fountain of semen fills the air. Each drop takes form. Mark forgets the orgy and disentangles himself from the embrace. He watches Satori. His father’s face is a mask of terror. No longer watching the sexual display, Satori’s arms flail through the air in front of his face as if trying to push away monsters which Mark is unable to see.
Satori’s screams echo around the chamber as he falls to his knees, holding his arms above him in protection against an unseen assailant. Tears roll down the man’s face and his body shakes.
Enough! Mark strides across to Satori. The man does not see him. His mind is full of the horror against which he protects himself. Gently, he taps Satori’s shoulder. His father turns towards him and looks up with fearful eyes. It seems to take a moment for Satori to see him. Mark extends his hand towards the quivering man.
‘Come on,’ Mark says.
He leads his father to the chamber where the sleeping woman lays waiting. He smiles as he reunites the lovers and completes Satori’s separation from Star.
***
Mark draws air into his lungs as his body pushes back, through the wooden floor and into the empty room. He lies on the floor, laughing. Sitting up, he claps his hands. He checks his mental chess board, the bishop has fallen. Mark runs from the empty room, repeating Satori’s name over and over. Laughing and crying, he rushes into his father’s room and kneels by his bed. Mark tests Satori’s pulse. It is strong. The man is merely unconscious.
He goes back to his own room and dresses. He shivers deliciously as energy pulses through his body. So close now! Grabbing the photo of the raven and the empty envelope, he takes both downstairs. He searches the bureau in Paul’s library and finds new envelopes and a pen. As accurately as possible Mark duplicates the writing from the first envelope onto a fresh one, places the photo inside, seals it and slips it into his jacket pocket.
Mark returns to Kevin’s flat, determined to complete his mission and free himself from his obligation to Garlow.
‘What the fuck, kid? We thought you’d run off. Garlow is fucking furious.’
‘I’m sorry, Kev. I was attacked.’ Mark moves his hair back so Kevin can see the deep purple and red bruise on his forehead.
‘You been to hospital?’ he asks.
‘No. I was out cold for a while then I came back here.’
‘Did they rob you?’
‘I did the delivery to that woman. She gave me two envelopes. I dropped one off before I got battered. The other’s still here in my pocket.’ Mark draws the envelope from inside his jacket.
‘I’ll phone Garlow now. Let him know what’s happened. He can call off the dogs.’
‘The dogs?’
‘Figuratively speaking. Well, you didn’t think we’d just let you disappear, did you?’
‘I guess not. I’m sorry, Kev.’
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