Scenting Hallowed Blood (37 page)

‘What is it?’ she
whispered.

Daniel pointed at Shemyaza,
unable to speak, but when he looked back at the throne, the
frightening vision had vanished. Shem appeared as he’d done before;
a beautiful angel in the robes and crown of a king. Daniel shook
his head and signalled to Sofia that it was nothing. She shrugged
and returned her attention to the proceedings before them.

Enniel stepped down, away from
the throne and raised his arms to the Parzupheim. They all rose to
their feet and turned towards the Master of Ceremonies.

‘
Behold,’ Enniel cried.
‘The return of the Divine King! Shemyaza! Son of Anu, Father of
Adam, Root of the Vine, from which all things proceed, to whom all
things return. Pillar of Jacob, Bestower of Solomon’s Wisdom,
Foundation Stone, Builder of Life and Bringer of
Salvation!’

The Parzupheim all threw up
their arms, and cheered, shouting out the praises that would close
the ritual. ‘Re harakti! Re harakti! Re harakti!’

‘Son of the sun,’ whispered
Daniel, frozen in his seat.

‘Blood of the lamb,’ murmured
Sofia beside him.

Tamara was sitting in her kitchen
eating lunch, when Barbelo walked in through her unlocked back
door. The Grigori woman seemed nervous and excited. Tamara had not
seen her for several days, and had begun to worry about it,
frightened that Barbelo had changed her mind about including Tamara
in her plans. But Barbelo sat down opposite her and said, ‘He is
among us!’

Tamara’s heart clenched in her
chest, a desperate muscle. ‘You have seen him?’

Barbelo nodded, and removed her
headscarf. ‘Oh yes! Soon, my dear, you will see him for yourself.
Have you been empowering the site as I instructed you?’

‘Yes. The thought-form is very
clear now.’

‘And the boy, Delmar. Has he
become more tractable?’

‘Since I began feeding him that
powder you gave me, yes.’

Barbelo smiled. ‘Good. He has
an important part to play, and I can’t help feeling he is somewhat
of a weak link. He is no Daniel Cranton, who’s the Shining One’s
vizier, but I’m afraid he’s going to have to assume some of that
persona! You’ll have to keep a tight curb on him, Tamara.’

‘I will, don’t worry.’ Tamara
wanted to ask what Shemyaza looked like, what he had said, but
sensed that Barbelo would not want to answer. Over their relatively
short acquaintance, Tamara had learned the Grigori woman liked to
keep secrets, to maintain the balance of power between them.

‘Tonight, you must enact the
final rite,’ Barbelo said. ‘This afternoon, concentrate on the
thought-form of Ishtahar, and send a call of desire to Shemyaza
within High Crag. He must come to you tonight. Go to the Mermaid’s
Cove at dusk, and conjure the power of the sea. Prepare Delmar as I
have told you. Then project all the energy you possess into luring
Shemyaza out to the cliff-top. I shall be aiding you from within
the house. Once he emerges, it must proceed as we have
discussed.’

Tamara’s heart was beating so
fast, she was afraid she’d have a seizure. The time had come so
quickly. She’d imagined she’d have days in which to prepare herself
for this meeting. ‘What time will it happen?’

Barbelo shrugged. ‘I have no
way of knowing precisely. Today, the elders of the Grigori families
meet to discuss Shemyaza’s future. It is most likely they will
crown him as their Divine King before the day is out. All to the
good.’ She paused. ‘Tamara, Shemyaza is a god, but he is also a
man. Do not be foolish and allow his glamour to bewitch you. It is
vital you remain in control. Love him as the Prince of Light, but
despise the Adam in him. You, in some respects, are more powerful
than he, for you are female. I am relying on you.’

Tamara wondered why Barbelo
wanted no part of this ritual herself. ‘Have no fear,’ she said. ‘I
have waited for this too long to let it go awry.’

After Barbelo had left, Tamara
unplugged her telephone and closed all the curtains in the cottage.
Delmar came to visit her every day after school now, so she had
several hours in which to work before he arrived. Forcing herself
not to hurry, she ritually prepared herself for the tasks ahead.
Then, she went downstairs and pushed all the furniture in her
parlour to the edges of the room, creating a space where she could
meditate. Barbelo had given her special incense and over a dozen
long, intricately-worked candles that were smeared with pungent
oil. Tamara arranged these items in a circle, then lit the incense
and the candles. Her parlour was transformed into a temple removed
from the mundane world beyond her walls. She concentrated on the
thought-form of Ishtahar, made her sing with longing and desire.
Somewhere, she felt a presence become alert to her call. For a
moment, her concentration wavered. It was him! A tide of desire
threshed through her blood. Shemyaza! Rekindling her energy, she
directed wave after wave of feeling towards him, until he would
feel drunk and confused. Soon, she would touch his holy body.

After visiting Tamara as
Barbelo, Sofia called on Salamiel before she went to High Crag. She
found him almost hysterical with expectation. ‘Calm down, my dear,’
she breathed, gliding into his study.

‘But what’s happening?’
Salamiel demanded. ‘Azazel has been at High Crag for two days, yet
you still have not brought him here to me, where he belongs.’

Sofia sat down, giving an
impression of outward composure, though within she fought with the
same maelstrom of emotion that showed plainly in Salamiel’s face.
‘Be patient,’ she said. ‘All proceeds as it should.’

Salamiel eyed her with
suspicion. ‘You are sure the Parzupheim will not instruct Azazel to
awake the Shamir for them?’

‘Oh, quite sure.’ Sofia
grinned. ‘You must stop worrying. Let Enniel’s cronies anoint
Azazel as their king. It serves only to augment his power, for us
to use.’

‘Have you told him about
me?’

Sofia shook her head, her brow
creased. ‘No, not yet, but soon. Perhaps today, if I get the
chance.’

‘Yes, today!’ Salamiel got to
his feet. ‘Bring him to me tonight.’

Sofia turned down the corners
of her mouth in a rueful smile. ‘It might not be tonight...’

‘Then when?’

She sighed. ‘Your hysteria is
beginning to get on my nerves. You’ve waited millennia, Sal. A few
more days are hardly going to make much difference.’

‘A few more days! But what will
happen to him in that time? The Parzupheim could contaminate his
mind!’

Sofia laughed dryly. ‘You have
no need to worry on that score.’

Salamiel frowned. ‘How can you
be so sure?’

She lifted her shoulders in a
shrug.

‘What are you planning?’ The
question was delivered in a low voice. ‘You
are
planning
something, aren’t you?’

Sofia merely widened her smile
into a predatory, reptile grin. ‘Fear not, my lovely. You are still
a major part of my design. In the meantime, concentrate on Lily
Winter. She should be the focus of your energies at this time.’

At dusk, Tamara Trewlynn drove
in her car to the lay-by near the cliff path to Mermaid’s Cove.
Delmar sat beside her, his expression blank. Before leaving her
cottage, Tamara had taken the precaution of giving him a cup of
strong, sweet tea, into which she’d stirred a liberal dose of the
herbal powder Barbelo had given her. She had guessed that the rest
of the Pelleth were now highly suspicious of her. It could be no
coincidence that the Conclave had appeared to be inactive over the
past few days. Phone calls from Meggie had been non-existent. Most
likely, they were being
highly
active, but had chosen to
exclude Tamara from their work. They must be preparing their sacred
sites by now for the advent of Shemyaza. Tamara did not care what
the Pelleth did. She felt that she and Barbelo possessed far more
power than them and must be a greater lure for the Shining One.
Meggie had probably also noticed, or been informed, of a change in
Delmar’s behaviour. Now, he was entirely Tamara’s creature. She had
primed him with talk of Shemyaza, and subdued his instinctive
fears. ‘You will become the oracle of the Sun Chief,’ she told him.
‘Do not be afraid.’

Whether Delmar was impressed by
this news was hard to fathom, but at least he had kept his silence
for her, and obeyed her commands without question. His mother had
been a bit of a problem, because she’d tried to prevent Delmar
spending so much time away from home. No doubt Meggie had told the
Tremayne woman her suspicions. Still, Delmar had been used to
absolute freedom, and in his passive, yet relentless way had
managed to slip away from the house whenever he wanted to.

The wind grabbed angrily at the
land as Tamara led Delmar down to the cove. By now, the lizard
guardians were familiar with her, and when she showed them the
talisman, quickly stood aside to let her pass. Even though the
light was fast fading from the sky, the cove was clearly visible,
as if the waves themselves glowed with a spectral light that
illuminated the land. Tamara’s awareness was heightened because of
the preparations she’d made earlier, and she could see easily the
slim form of a woman standing upon the wet sand, her hair blowing
around her head. Tamara addressed the image. ‘Ishtahar. It is I,
your mistress.’

The figure turned towards her,
and fixed her with a sad, wide-eyed stare. Tamara beckoned Delmar.
‘Go into the cave beneath the cliff, Del. Lie down upon the rock
and wait for my summons.’

The boy obeyed without uttering
a sound.

Words whispered inside Tamara’s
head. ‘You are a fool! He is not Daniel, and you will never be
me!’

Tamara dismissed the unwelcome
presence from her mind. ‘You’re not
her
either, phantom!’
The thought-form of Ishtahar possessed more consciousness than she
would have liked.

Turning her back on the forlorn
image, Tamara walked towards the convulsing waves. It was true; the
sea was glowing. There were shapes twisting in the breakers, lights
moving beneath the churning surface. Tamara held out her arms to
the elements. The wind lunged at her with hungry caresses, as if it
would tear the clothes from her body. She could hear spirit-voices
in its whistling thunder, voices from the sea that hailed from the
lost temples of Lyonesse, long submerged beneath the waves. The
spirits could smell Shemyaza’s proximity. They were wild with
desire for him, as she was. The restlessness and urgency of the
ocean reached out to Tamara, filled her with a sense of power and
command. Her clawed fingers clutched at the wild air.
I am the
Sea Princess, Seference’s daughter, more powerful than Ishtahar
ever was!
The thought-form behind her was an empty shell,
chained to this fierce shore, while she was strong and free, the
channel of potential.

Tamara drew her spray-soaked
robe over her head, and with an eerie cry ran naked into the
waves.

Aninka and Emma sat together in
their favourite drawing room. All was silent, but for the crackle
of flames in the hearth and the slow tick of a grandfather clock in
a corner of the room. Aninka sat on the sofa, her legs curled
beneath her. She stared into the fire. Emma sat in an armchair to
the side of the sofa, reading a popular novel and smoking a
cigarette. The silence between the two women had been comfortable,
but now Emma sensed that a tension had come sneaking into the room.
Aninka had not spoken about the remark that Shemyaza had addressed
to her over dinner, but Emma suspected it had upset her greatly.
Gradually, Emma’s eyes were drawn away from the page, to keep
Aninka in the periphery of her vision. Aninka’s relaxed,
contemplative posture had stiffened. Now, she stared at the flames
with wide, almost terrified eyes.

Emma put down her book. ‘Are
you feeling OK, Ninka?’

Aninka shot her a furtive
glance. ‘Yes... I’m fine.’

Emma picked up her book again
and pretended to read it. Presently, Aninka got up and went to the
French windows. With a jerky movement, she cast aside the long
drapes. Emma watched her peering out into the wet, stormy darkness.
‘You’re not all right, are you? What’s wrong?’

Aninka curled her arms about
her breasts. ‘I... I’m not sure.’ She shivered and rubbed her arms.
‘I feel cold, sort of anxious.’

Emma watched her warily as she
began to pace up and down in front of the window. ‘Come back over
here by the fire. You probably feel upset because of what’s going
on in the house today. Why not have a drink to calm your
nerves?’

Aninka shook her head. ‘No...’
She suddenly stopped pacing. ‘What’s that? Can you hear it?’

Emma listened. She could hear
the clock, the flames, and a host of faint noises coming from
various corners of the house, but nothing unusual. ‘What can you
hear?’

Aninka pushed her hair behind
her ears, lowered her head. ‘It’s a wailing sound... very faint.
You must be able to hear it! Come here!’

Emma stood up and went to
Aninka’s side, reached up to put an arm around the Grigori woman’s
shoulders. ‘I can’t hear anything.’

‘It’s like whale-song,’ Aninka
said, and wriggled away from Emma’s arm. She walked slowly back to
the windows and Emma followed. Their reflections looked like ghosts
hanging in the dark. ‘I feel... haunted,’ Aninka said in a low
voice. ‘Someone just walked over my grave.’ She laughed nervously.
Her hand snaked out and undid the lock on the window door. Before
Emma could stop her, she’d opened it and stepped outside. Cold air
rolled into the room, and filled it with a rank, salty stench. It
was like the sea had entered the house. Emma ran to the window.

‘Ninka, come in! You’ll freeze
out there! What the hell are you doing?’

Aninka said nothing, but Emma
could see her tall, dark shape walking swiftly across the lawn in
the direction of the cliff. Cursing, Emma ran after her and grabbed
hold of her arm. ‘Stop this! Come back to the house!’ Had Aninka
gone mad?