Scenting Hallowed Blood (7 page)

Aninka had not expected to hear
anything like that. ‘What about your... people you’re close to in
Europe?’ she asked lamely.

Taziel shrugged. ‘I’m not in
love with anyone, if that’s what you mean. Peverel Othman killed
that in me. There’s no-one in Vienna who can’t survive without me.
I’m a better person here.’

Lahash shifted uneasily in his
chair, as if he found the honesty of Taziel’s remarks painful to
hear.

Aninka shook her head. ‘This is
all too much. We mustn’t argue. Anyone want a drink?’ She went to
the liquor cupboard and poured out the drinks in silence. When she
handed Taziel a glass of rum, Lahash said,

‘You know where he is, don’t
you, Taz?’

Taziel and Aninka froze, both
their hands wrapped around the tumbler. Aninka could have slapped
Lahash. Why didn’t he let it drop for now? Nothing would be gained
by bullying Taziel. Left alone with him, she was sure she’d be able
to convince him to co-operate. How could she intimate this to
Lahash before he ruined every chance?

Taziel took the drink from
Aninka’s hand. ‘Of course I do,’ he replied.

‘What?’ Aninka cried. ‘You
do?’

Taziel nodded, took a sip. ‘I
can’t help knowing. But I do try to ignore it.’ He laughed at
Lahash’s expression; a melange of surprise, excitement and hope.
‘But that doesn’t mean I’m going to concentrate and tell you
exactly where he is. I’m sorry, Lahash. It’s one ghost I’ve got to
let rest.’

‘And you’re quite content to
live the rest of your life knowing Shemyaza is around,
feeling
him around?’ Lahash shook his head. ‘Doesn’t it
bother you he has such an affect on you? It’s an intrusion, isn’t
it, that presence in your head? Continual mental rape. I think
you’re a coward. You’re afraid of him.’

Taziel laughed again, with even
less warmth than before. ‘Yeah. I am. And you’re not? If you answer
no to that question, then you’re not qualified to try and find him.
Only a fool would not be afraid of him. He would crush you like a
hollow bone.’

Lahash shook his head. ‘Help me
find him, Taz. . . Just tell me where he is. That’s all I ask. You
don’t have to face him, if that’s what you’re scared of.’

‘He will kill you,’ Taziel
replied, sipping his rum.

‘Just tell me.’ Lahash’s voice
was quiet, his eyes dark and direct.

Taziel shook his head.
‘No.’

Lahash left soon after,
although in the privacy of the hall arranged to meet Aninka for
lunch the following day. ‘I’ll do what I can,’ she whispered as she
closed the door on him. In her heart, she was afraid that Lahash’s
attraction to her was far outweighed by his desire to snare
Shemyaza. Feeling slightly depressed by this thought, she went back
into living-room and poured herself another brandy. Taziel had
turned on the TV and was now watching the ten o’clock news.

Aninka stared at him, willing
him to look up, but he clearly sensed her desire and ignored her.
Sighing, she sat down on the chair, which was still warm from
Lahash’s body. After a few minutes, Taziel said, ‘You’ll never get
Othman back, Ninka. He’s dead.’

Aninka shuddered. ‘I know.
Despite what you think, I really don’t want to.’

Taziel glanced at her. ‘But you
feel the same way as Lahash does. It wouldn’t take much to fire you
up into a search lust again, would it?’

Aninka found she was shivering.
‘No. I admit that. I still want him found and... contained.’

Taziel shook his head slowly.
‘It’s too dangerous, Ninka. He is Shemyaza now. If I try to find
him, he’ll no doubt sense it, and come crashing into my brain like
a hurricane. He might want to use me again, or simply kill me to
cover his tracks. I have no way of knowing which way he’d turn, and
I don’t want to find out. One thing I am sure of is that he won’t
just run away and hide. Not now. He has to be stronger now.’

‘Surely you could protect
yourself.’ In her heart, Aninka felt bad about pushing the matter.
She knew Taziel was right and that he’d be the person most at risk
if they went along with Lahash’s request. But she could not stop
herself.

There was a moment’s silence,
then Taziel said, ‘He’s in London. Too close.’

Aninka’s heart turned over.
‘Here? But... Taz, have you been looking for him yourself?’ The
last question was delivered carefully.

‘Not exactly, but I pick things
up.’

He wouldn’t say any more.

Aninka related the information
to Lahash as soon as he’d sat down opposite her in the restaurant
where they’d arranged to meet.

‘Well done,’ Lahash said.

Aninka frowned. ‘It’s not
enough, and I’m not sure whether I can convince Taz to do anything
more.’

Lahash shook his head. ‘You’re
wrong. What you said to Taz last night smacks of the truth. He
would
have gone home if he really thought this business was
over. Anything else he might say is simply excuses. We just have to
wait, that’s all. You know what he’s like. Be patient. Trust
me.’

When she got back to the flat,
after a very pleasant couple of hour’s conversation, some of it
promisingly suggestive, she found Taziel in the kitchen, holding
the dish cloth to his nose, which was bleeding profusely. ‘Are you
all right?’ she asked.

Taziel growled at her and
slouched into the living room. Aninka followed. ‘Taz? What
happened?’

Taziel removed the cloth from
his nose and inspected it. The bleeding seemed to have stopped,
although the lower half of his face was covered in blood.
Experimentally, he sniffed. ‘This is what happens,’ he said.

Aninka rushed to his side,
squatted down on the floor beside his chair. ‘What? What?’

‘When I try too hard.’ He
reached for Aninka’s hands, squeezed them. ‘I don’t know why I did
it.’

‘Did what?’ Aninka dared not
hope.

‘I have a location for you,’
Taziel said. ‘Are you satisfied now?’

She had been visiting the cafe
for over a week now. From there, she could keep an eye on the Moses
Assembly Rooms. Lahash knew of the place; it was a refuge for
Grigori burnouts and freaks. Perhaps the most clever hiding place
Shemyaza could have thought of because it was just so obvious a
place to look for him.

Just as she was beginning to
doubt Shemyaza, or any of his companions, were actually there, the
boy had come into the cafe. The moment she laid eyes on him, she’d
known he was significant. His name was Daniel, the name of
Shemyaza’s vizier and prophet. Coincidence? Perhaps. The boy had
been wary of her, she could tell. He had secrets, and had almost
confessed to living at the Assembly Rooms. Working in a conference
hall? No. Aninka had watched him leave the cafe and had stood in
the side street as he made his way back there, disappearing down a
side alley next to the Rooms. How to win his confidence? It would
not be easy. He mustn’t find out who she was, although she did not
feel afraid. For some moments, she had stood staring at the
Assembly Room’s blank windows. Was Shemyaza really in there? It
seemed bizarre to think she might be so close to him.

Now, she had to tell Taz she
had made contact. Standing in the doorway to the living room she
said, ‘Stage one has been completed.’ It was difficult not to
laugh. She felt elated.

Taziel looked up at her. ‘What
happened?’

‘Daniel happened,’ she replied.
‘At least I think so.’

Meggie Penhaligon, her sisters of the
Council around her, gazed into the lightless surface of the pool.
It was situated behind the giant’s throne in their sacred cave, and
when the tide was high, it replenished the pool with fresh
seawater.

The women were silent, waiting
for information to manifest before their eyes. The only sound was
the insistent tone of a brass spirit-bowl, which Lissie held in her
lap. She made it resonate by stroking its inner surface in circling
motions, using a pointed wooden stick. Its eerie note eclipsed even
the echoes of the sea. All concentrated hard upon the flat, dark
surface of the water.

Several days had passed since
the oracle had delivered his prophecy. Meggie had allowed this
knowledge to settle within their minds before making further
attempts to discover more. Delmar was not present this evening. He
had fulfilled his function; the rest was up to the women.

Meggie’s eyes began to water,
and her vision dimmed from the edges inwards: a black fog
surrounding her, until all that she could see was the black glitter
of the water. The tone of the spirit bowl filled her whole being,
and the surface of the pool began to swirl. She saw colours,
fragmented images. ‘Lady Seference, reveal to us the Fallen One.’
She had no doubt that her companions were also beginning to see
shapes forming upon the surface of the pool. The images flared and
died. Some were quite definite, others vague. Certain images
clearly had nothing whatsoever to do with the work in hand, and
were mere psychic intrusions.

Meggie saw Shemyaza’s shining
face, and the diffuse but penetrating glow of his startlingly blue
eyes. She had to force herself not to look away. Even to someone as
old as she was, he stirred a tide of lust and longing within the
body. She saw figures hovering around him, and even began to
determine names: Daniel — that was prominent, then Emma, Lily, and
even the other boy, Owen. This was only slightly more than Delmar
had relayed to them before. What they needed to discover was how to
lure the Shining One to Cornwall. Meggie tried to draw the veils of
obscurity aside, project herself into the images before her. There
was a link. She could see it now, as an image of the hated house,
High Crag, shivered across the pool. The Pelleth knew that Grigori
lived there, and it was close to their village. Shemyaza would be
enveloped by the Grigori families. Although this could be seen as
an obstacle, it also meant that he would at least be brought to
Cornwall. Once he was in the vicinity, the task of the Pelleth
would be so much easier. Reassured, Meggie pulled herself back to
reality, and around her, felt the other women follow her lead. But
for one.

Tamara still stared intently
into the pool, her brow creased. The towers of High Crag wavered
within the rippling surface of the pool before her. She saw the
long stretch of the gardens down to the cliff-top and there, on the
crumbling lip of stone, stood her prince of light, with his feet
curled dangerously over the very edge of the cliff. He was ready to
fly. He would fly to
her
. She heard the siren song of the
mer-women who haunted the cove below. They called to him in longing
and desire, hungry for his beauty, for his pale, dry flesh. Tamara
listened. Their song must become her song.

Yes, jump! Fly! Fall, my
beautiful god! And I will lead you before the eyes of the
slumbering one. Its serpent breath will make of me a goddess, and
its power shall be ours! Together, we shall unleash it upon the
world!

Then the tenuous form of a
dark-haired woman rose up to command her visionary perception. This
interloper reached out towards Tamara’s golden chief upon the
cliff-top.

Oh, such love, such grace. Will
Seference herself come to claim him? No, not Seference. Another
goddess. She is his. He knows her as his only female love. Who is
she? Cannot see her face. I can only see yours, my sun king. The
light of every beacon fire shines from your eyes.

Tamara sensed that the scent
and power of the dark-haired woman hung all around him. He was
intoxicated with her power. Tamara felt desperate. She had to find
out who this female figure was. She had to see her face. But even
as she strained her concentration, the images began to break up in
the pool. Only the sound of bells remained. Tamara knew the bells
belonged to the dark one; gentle chimes like those worn at the
ankles of sacred dancers. As she stared at the pool, it regained
its normal appearance of a hard and glassy surface, like a mirror.
Tamara’s own entranced face stared back at her. She felt a pain
begin somewhere behind her eyes.

Although all the other women
had finished their scrying some minutes earlier, Meggie, out of
politeness, waited for Tamara to return to normal consciousness at
her own pace. Trance was not a thing to be interrupted. Tamara
seemed to become aware that her sisters were all sitting staring at
her. She was breathing heavily and her limbs were shaking. She
glanced up at Meggie with quick eyes. For a moment, Meggie was
unnerved. There was something in Tamara’s expression she didn’t
like, some hint of excitement or truculence, that flared out of her
eyes before she could smother it.

‘We shall return to the house
to discuss our findings,’ Meggie said, still holding Tamara with
her eyes. The younger woman lowered her lashes, and there was a
faint smile on her face as she rose to her feet.

Tom Penhaligon had prepared tea
and hot food as usual, but there was a tense air around the kitchen
table that night. Meggie did not feel hungry, even though the
scones before her were fresh from the oven, exuding tendrils of
delicious scent. She realised she would very much have liked to
down a jug of Tom’s cider rather than tea. What was wrong? Agatha
fidgeted and kicked her chair; a sound which filled Meggie with
irritation. Tamara’s cheeks were faintly flushed along the bone.
She had the look of a woman who nursed a secret, who had recently
come from the bed of an illicit lover.

The women discussed what they
had seen within the pool. Most had picked up the names again, and
had glimpsed an image of High Crag, which seemed to confirm
Shemyaza would either be drawn or taken there.

Tamara listened to the
discussion, but added no comments of her own. In fact, she could
not have spoken if she’d wanted to. She knew she had been the only
one to see the future in the pool. No-one else had seen the
beautiful Shemyaza poised upon the edge of a cliff, his golden hair
flying back in the claws of the wind, the waves thundering beneath
him. No-one had picked up the image of a woman superimposed over
Shemyaza, a woman of indescribable beauty and power; a goddess. If
the goddess withdrew from the Fallen One and hovered out over the
ocean, he would walk from the edge of the cliff to reach her. This
was important information. Tamara relived the things she had seen
and felt the stirrings of love, lust and a desire for power churn
within her. As usual, the Pelleth were being too cautious. They
talked of drawing Shemyaza to them once he reached Cornwall, and
seemed oblivious of the fact that, if he was in the nest of the
Grigori, their task might not be easy. Still, their plans were
irrelevant now. Tamara knew that Barbelo would be waiting for her
at home, to hear all about what had happened at the scrying pool.
Then, they could begin to formulate their own plans.