Scenting Hallowed Blood (28 page)

She seemed to be calming down,
as if her feverish excitement had only been a desperate need to
expel in words some of what she’d seen that afternoon. Salamiel was
amused by her condition. She had not anticipated the force of
Azazel’s presence, his overwhelming charisma. Salamiel was glad it
had winded her. ‘What was your impression, though? Do you think
he’ll come to us without any trouble?’

She nodded. ‘If I intrigue him
enough, yes.’ Her hands still shook a little as she put the tumbler
to her lips. Before she spoke, she wiped her mouth with the back of
her hand. ‘I want to begin work by the winter solstice. Azazel must
initiate the preliminaries to awakening the Shamir.’

‘That gives us very little
time.’

She sneered, took another
drink. ‘Enough!’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘I need to establish what
Azazel wants, and then offer it to him. I suspect he desires only
solitude and peace, in which case, it will be easy. If he comes to
us, we shall give him a citadel in which to hide, somewhere where
no other Grigori can molest him.’

‘Azazel was never a one for
peace and quiet,’ Salamiel remarked. He wasn’t sure whether the
anxiety he felt was inspired by suspicion or perplexity.

Sofia directed a sharp glance
at him, apparently in command of her composure once more. ‘There
are bound to be changes! What do you expect? If you think he’s
going to come bouncing into Pharos like a long-lost friend, ready
for a party, forget it!’

‘But is his mind...
intact?’

Sofia inhaled impatiently
through her nose. ‘It’s impossible to tell at this stage, but he
certainly didn’t look or sound like a lunatic.’

‘I was not thinking of anything
so extreme. I was thinking of instability, depression,
confusion.’

Sofia leaned forward in her
chair. ‘Listen, Salamiel. Azazel is like a man who’s been kept
hostage in a hostile country for a long, long time. Freedom must be
a frightening thing to him at the moment. He’s bound to be
disorientated and unsure. We must be patient and
understanding.’

Salamiel’s expression was
bleak. ‘He’s worse than you’re saying, isn’t he?’

Sofia shook her head. ‘I can’t
make any firm judgements on what I’ve seen so far.’

‘Describe him.’

‘I can’t.’ Her voice was
hoarse. She sipped the whisky, staring Salamiel in the eye. ‘He
possesses a beauty beyond words. To see him is to desire him. That,
of course, is part of his power. He is a prince of light, my dear,
and we must take care, for fear of being blinded by him.’

Salamiel felt a shiver of
apprehension fizz down his spine. He was sure he’d lived this
moment before.

Back in the library, Lily
sipped gin while she waited for Salamiel and his friend to return.
Nina attempted to keep her occupied by talking about clothes and
make-up; topics in which Lily had scant interest. She was thinking
about Salamiel and his visitor, Sofia. They had been surrounded by
a thick fog of tension, which had suggested the presence of secrets
and excitement. Sofia had been desperate to talk to Salamiel. She
had claimed she wanted advice about a letter, but there had been no
letter in her hand when she’d left the room, and her hand-bag still
lay beside the sofa. Lily considered these things, while nodding
and smiling at Nina, who appeared oblivious of her lack of
attention. Then, she remembered what Salamiel had said to her
earlier.
Sofia had seen Shem that afternoon.
The woman’s
frenetic air confirmed it. He had cast his spell on her. But why
did Sofia need to speak to Salamiel alone? What were they keeping
from her? Lily realised she must be firm with herself, and not
trust Salamiel, nor his strange friend, too easily.

At High Crag, Shemyaza ate
alone in his room. He too thought about the meeting with Sofia that
afternoon. She was typical of her kind; high-ranking Grigori were
all very similar. The realm of conspiracy and intrigue was her home
territory. He had known at once that she was rather more than a
representative of the Parzupheim, and also that Enniel was unaware
of her true nature. Ultimately, Sofia represented only herself. A
sub-text had passed between them. She had seemed to be making an
offer: whatever he desired in exchange for the use of his powers.
She had told him that his first act must be to awaken the Shamir,
the serpent power in the land. He knew nothing about this, although
talk of the subject kindled uncomfortable feelings within him that
were almost like memories. Shem noticed that Enniel seemed
surprised by Sofia’s words. Clearly, she had not spoken to him
first, but he tried to hide the fact. ‘I think we need to discuss
this matter with the Parzupheim before any decisions are made,’
Enniel had said stiffly. ‘Perhaps Shemyaza isn’t yet ready to take
on such a potentially dangerous task.’

Sofia had ignored him. ‘The
Shamir waits,’ she had said, curling one of her elegant hands into
a fist before her, ‘and by awakening it, you will initiate the dawn
of a new age.’

Shem had felt faintly
embarrassed by such talk. Sofia believed him to be more aware and
in control of his strengths than he actually was, but he realised
this was probably a fortunate misconception. He had no doubt that
should she get the faintest inkling she could exploit him, or the
slightest whiff of weakness, she’d pounce, dig her teeth into the
back of his neck and never let go. Peverel Othman had locked horns
with such people in the past, and won, but Shemyaza did not yet
feel strong enough to deal with a similar situation. Othman had
invaded the darkest, deepest cabals of the Grigori. In such places
he had learned of ancient, forbidden rituals, which he’d
subsequently employed in Cresterfield and Little Moor. Shem knew
that Sofia was familiar with all those unhallowed practices, and
could smell their residue on him. She was the one whom the
Parzupheim had sent to Little Moor after he’d fled. Therefore, it
was safe to assume she’d been able to visualise everything that had
happened there. Shem could tell that, unlike Enniel, she did not
disapprove of his actions. It was clear to him that she was a
creature who felt very little emotion, and who understood that
Othman had done only what he’d felt was necessary and right.
Whether he agreed with her judgement, Shem was not quite sure. Was
he capable of perpetrating the cruelties that Othman had dispensed
so casually? Could he sacrifice Daniel to a demon now?

Perhaps Sofia was the least of
his considerations at present. He’d abandoned the twins to an
unknown fate, which now pricked at his conscience. He needed Daniel
to help find them again, and Daniel must be brought to heel.

Daniel knew he should take heed
of Shemyaza’s words: not for his own sake, or even for Shem’s, but
for the sake of some greater purpose. Playing games now was a waste
of valuable time. He could sense the evaporating hours, slipping
away like sand through a narrow waist of glass. He could sense
dark, purply power moving in, gathering in a cloud of bruising
storms above High Crag. Yet part of him, a new rebellious part,
felt annoyed that Shem thought he could order him around, select
his lovers, apportion his time. Daniel did not like feeling owned.
For this reason, although he felt uncomfortable about it, he sought
Taziel out and apologised to him. Taziel was hurt, spoke of the way
Peverel Othman had damaged him and implied further damage was
imminent. Daniel acted contrite, affectionate. While conscious at
every moment of Shemyaza’s presence within the house, he cajoled
Taziel into the room they’d been given and offered himself
unreservedly. Taziel seemed convinced by this display, although
even as they writhed together on the bed, Daniel knew the magic of
what had occurred between them that morning had been ephemeral,
doomed to a single experience. Now it was only hungry struggling,
the gratification of shallow appetites. He wondered whether Taziel
was aware of this. Like Daniel, he was extremely sensitive to
atmospheres. It seemed they were acting out a play, and the lines
they spoke to one another failed to connect, did not make up an
entire conversation.

In the evening, after they had
eaten, Taziel dozed on the bed, while Daniel lay awake, his heart
beating in what felt like panic. Shem had done this, crushed the
fragile shoot of their relationship before it could take root. They
had glimpsed the promise that morning, now it had been poisoned.
Daniel could smell the scent of Owen’s body in the room, and knew
that Shem had projected it.
Leave me alone!
he cried in his
mind.
Let me experience life! You have lived through so much.
Would you deny me the same opportunities?

He could almost hear Shem’s
reply.
Daniel, you have to make sacrifices. This dalliance is a
waste of your time. You are destined for better things. Cast him
off. Come to me. We have work to do.

Daniel knew it was only a
matter of time before he gave in.

He awoke in the middle of the
night with a start, as if someone had poked him. For a moment, he
lay breathing hard, blinking at the darkness. Taziel snored softly
beside him, his tangled hair spread across the pillow. Looking at
him, Daniel experienced a pang of emotion. He leaned over to kiss
him, but before his lips made contact, a bolt of blue radiance
filled his eyes.

Throwing himself back against
the wall, Daniel saw a spinning ball of azure light hanging over
the end of the bed. It was so bright, it was painful to look at.
The room was rendered black and white by its brilliance. It spat
out sparkling motes. Yet Taziel did not wake up. Daniel managed to
gasp, ‘Shem! No!’

A low-pitched female voice
answered him. ‘No, my Daniel. Not Shem.’

The light condensed until a
shape was visible within it; a woman sitting with her knees raised,
her arms curled around her ankles. She was young, her hair was
black and she wore a string of gold disks around her brow.
‘Ishtahar.’ Daniel breathed the name like a prayer.

She nodded at him, smiling. ‘I
am she. Listen, Daniel, for I have no strength here and cannot stay
long. You must quell the torment within you and return to the inner
silence that used to be your guide. A wild and judgmental storm is
gathering around Shemyaza, and dark sisters move close to breathe
the mist of their will around him. Go back to him, and give
yourself to him completely. This will teach him how to give again.
An important lesson, for there is much that Shem must give before
the storm abates. But go to him as an equal and teach him
humility.’

Daniel gulped air; it had
become difficult to breathe. ‘Give myself to him as an equal? How?
Must I leave Taziel?’

Ishtahar closed her eyes for a
moment, the blink of a smiling cat. ‘The path of the seer is the
loneliest of paths, my Daniel, but its rewards can be great. The
time of your initiation has long passed; it has never been dealt
with. You must take control of your own heart, body and vitality,
and let no other dominate them. When this is done, the time to
reclaim your birthright will be upon you.’

‘My birthright? What is
it?’

‘You will know. For now, you
must go to Shem, and go to him soon. He needs your strength. He
attempts to control you, because he is used to power, to those who
must obey. But you cannot let his ways muddy your clear sight. Let
him think you dance to his sacred music. Ultimately, you are beyond
his control. But there is one thing you must do before the dawn
light lifts from the sea. When you go to Shem, go to him as an
adult, not as a child. Undertake this rite of passage before the
night shies before the sun. Do you hear me?’

Daniel nodded slowly. ‘Yes, but
you must tell me how.’

‘No time.’ She seemed to be
receding in his sight, becoming smaller. Now it appeared she was at
the end of a dark tunnel. ‘There can be no tall candles, no sweet
incense, no ritual chant for this ceremony, for your time is short.
Listen to your blood, Daniel Cranton. This is not the time for
hearts or minds.’

There was a crack of blinding
blue light, then darkness. Daniel found he was leaning over Taziel,
as he had been the moment before Ishtahar appeared. He felt
disorientated, unsure of whether he’d been dreaming or
hallucinating, or whether Shemyaza’s woman really had revealed
herself to him.

Taziel made a small, sleepy
sound, then awoke. He jumped to find Daniel leaning over him. ‘What
is it?’

Daniel almost told him what had
happened, but then only put a finger against his lips and murmured,
‘Ssh.’

Taziel looked afraid, as if he
sensed something peculiar had occurred. Daniel put his hands upon
Taziel’s shoulders, pushed him against the bed.

‘You look weird,’ Taziel said.
‘Stop it.’

Daniel could feel the cold air
on his naked back and the beat of blood in his loins.
Listen to
your blood.
He drew in his breath, his head hanging between his
shoulders.

‘Daniel?’

He raised his head, and could
barely see, for his vision was broken up with spinning motes of
grey light. ‘Owen, Shemyaza, you,’ he said slowly. ‘All of you have
taken me as your boy, drunk from me like a vessel. Surrender to me,
Taziel. Let me be a man for you.’

Taziel blinked at him. ‘What’s
the matter? Have you been dreaming?’

Daniel shook his head. ‘No. I
am awake.’ He reached out and cupped Taziel’s jaw with one hand,
bent down to kiss him fiercely. There was some small protest to
begin with, but it was swiftly quenched.

Daniel thought,
Do I want
this branch of fire? Will it change me?
But he submitted his
will to the tide of his blood. There were no visions before his
eyes, no shifts of awareness, just the animal thrust of
masculinity.

Afterwards, he got up and went
to stand in the window. It overlooked the garden, which led to the
sea. Behind him, he heard Taziel light a cigarette, inhale deeply.
‘What time is it?’ Daniel asked.