Seeker (38 page)

“And I'm guessing persuasion didn't really work?” Willem asked, placing his plate on the rug and crawling over to Frederick's side.

“No, Sekhmet was not one to be persuaded from doing that which she enjoyed so much.” Frederick lifted his arm so Willem could place his head in Frederick's lap. A smile passed between them, and Frederick let his arm rest across Willem's chest.

“Ra sent out his messengers to get mandrake from Elephantine Island because not only was its juice scarlet, but the plant was known to cause great sleepiness. Women were called upon to crush barley into beer, and this was mixed with the mandrake, giving the beer the appearance of blood. They made seven hundred measures and spread it over the Earth while Sekhmet slept. She awoke ready to continue her joyous work, but found no more people on whom she could satisfy her need, and she saw that the Earth was already deep in blood. She stooped to drink of it, and she fell into a peaceful slumber, and while sleeping Ra came to her and said; ‘Come, come in peace, O' fair and gracious daughter.' And there ended her slaughter.”

Frederick waited for the inevitable question, and after a moment of silence Willem asked; “Sekhmet was a vampire?”

“Yes and no. The myth was a work of fiction to hide the truth. Sekhmet did indeed walk the land of Ancient Egypt, the Book tells us, and created the first of the modern
upyr
.”

“So, no sun god and mixing of mandrake?”

Frederick looked down at Willem, who was smiling up at him. He shook his head, glad that Willem was taking this all so well.

“Not exactly no. By 2079BCE Memphis was already known for its worship of the Goddess Sekhmet, and it was around that year that she actually appeared in person. Not the Sekhmet of myth, but the woman around whom the legend of Rags Revenge was built.

“Although the Book doesn't say so, it does seem very likely that she was either one of the women who had appeared throughout the pre-history of the upyr, or maybe even the same woman reincarnated. Depending on which story you believe. Either way, this time around she appeared in human form—her body suffering from a blood illness—and took the name Sekhmet. She called to the young priest Onuris, and took him as hers. For decades she worked behind the scenes, setting up Memphis as her main place of worship while war broke out between Upper and Lower Egypt.

“Now the High Priest of the Cult of Sekhmet, and her lover, Onuris brought the Pharaoh Mentuhotep the Second before the goddess. Mentuhotep knew that with the power of Sekhmet behind him uniting Egypt against the Herakleopolis rule would be child's play. Mentuhotep pledged his allegiance to Sekhmet.

“The Intefs of Thebes made short work of removing the rulers of Herakleopolis and a period of economic and cultural renaissance came upon Egypt. For fifteen years the Pharaoh and his goddess enjoyed a close relationship, with her blessing securing the good fortune of his people. But it was a relationship due to sour since Pharaoh Mentuhotep could only share his position for a finite amount of time; it was an eventuality that Sekhmet believed she was prepared for and had already warned Onuris about.

“By this time, though, Onuris was an old man and did not believe that a mere pharaoh could endanger a goddess.”

“Love blinds, right?”

Frederick nodded softly, rubbing his hand gently across Willem's chest. “It does at times,” he said, thinking of how it had blinded him for so long. But not anymore, now he understood the truth of him and Willem.

“While gaining the confidence of Onuris,” Frederick continued, enjoying the sensation of Willem's skin on his, as Willem stroked his hand gently, “Mentuhotep discovered that Sekhmet had a blood condition that made copious amounts of alcohol deadly to her. He poisoned the Nile with beer, using pomegranate juice to turn the water red, convincing her that the great river was now full of blood. Sekhmet was blindsided, since it was Onuris who shared this miracle with her.

“Sekhmet went to gorge herself on the life fluid in the hope that it would cure her body's ailment. Instead the poison quickly did its work, and Sekhmet found her body dying. She managed to reach the sanctuary of her temple, practically decimating the army of Thebes along the way, feasting on their blood.”

“Not a woman you'd want to cross,” Willem pointed out. “My sister could do with a little of that fire.”

“There Onuris found his former lover dying, still looking as young as the day they had first met. Onuris was horrified by his part in this, but Sekhmet knew that everything came to pass as it was meant to, and so forgave him his human foibles. It is said that her illness was a result of returning to Earth too soon, and so, before dying she performed one final act, she shared with him her blood, and thus turned Onuris into the first ever human-vampire hybrid, granting him an almost eternal life.

“She knew that one day he would indeed die, since all things had their time, but by then he would spread her blood throughout the known world, creating a new army of her children to continue on.”

Willem let out a whistle. “That's quite a tale,” he said, “but what's to say that what's written in your book is any more true than the myths spread by the Ancient Egyptians?”

“Because I met the one who wrote the Book, and he passed it on to me, charged me to continue what he had begun.” Frederick removed his arm so that Willem could reposition himself onto one elbow. “The thing is, Will, I…”

“Hold on, that Egyptian tapestry in the factory. A representation of Sekhmet?”

“Yes, you see…”

Willem held up a hand and Frederick stopped. “So, those people
are
upyr, like us?”

“They are the Three, the ruling body of the upyr world.” Now it was Frederick's turn to raise a hand and stop Willem from speaking further. He smiled at Willem, glad that his fledgling was thirsty for knowledge of his new life. “We'll get back to them, but there's more to tell about where we came from first, some very important things you need to know. To, erm…” For the first time since falling into the mode of storyteller Frederick faltered. This was a subject he didn't really wish to broach, but it was essential. “It will explain why you and I met.”

* * *

“There's more to tell about where we came from first,” Frederick said. Sam didn't bother to respond, but he doubted Frederick could tell him where he came from. He had been made by Frederick, but that was not where he came from. Something else was going on, something he didn't understand. But the tale Frederick told, although Willem had dismissed it a little, rang very true for Sam. He had seen Onuris meet Sekhmet in the temple; indeed it was
he
who had slept with Sekhmet.

Sam didn't understand what it all meant. He had seen much of what Frederick told, but when it came to the actual physical sensation of entering Sekhmet, Sam had felt it. As surely as he had felt himself enter Lilly.

“It will explain why you and I met,” Frederick was saying.

Sam had no idea what Frederick was talking about; he had zoned out and missed it. But it didn't matter; he had Frederick where he wanted him.

He sat up and stretched. “How about you tell me over a cuppa?”

* * *

“You thought I was the reincarnation of an Egyptian high priest?” Willem asked, the incredulity very clear in his voice. They were now standing in the kitchen, each holding a cup of Lapsang Souchong aromatic tea in their hands. Willem had been a bit dubious, but Frederick didn't stock normal tea, having never developed a taste for it.

All things considered Willem took the news well. Of course, Frederick had neglected to mention how he, with the assistance of Stephen, had pretty much manipulated Willem into taking a train to Southend. But he had explained about how, when on the train, he had felt something in Willem, and how he had thought it was the reincarnated ka of Onuris.

“Mate, I'm not the reincarnated anything. I mean, I'd know, right?”

“Well,” Frederick said, “that's the thing. Onuris was, according to the Book, supposed to awake during the fires of the hunger. But, well,” he spread his free hand out, “clearly that didn't happen. Instead you nearly died.”

Willem nodded slowly. Frederick tried to read the look in his translucent eyes, but whatever was going on inside was being kept secret. Frederick didn't mind. Willem had heard much so far, and still they'd barely gone into what being an upyr meant now. He was just happy that Willem was taking it all so well.

“So, that mugging…you set it up? To see if I was this Seeker?”

Or not. “Yes,” Frederick said, knowing at this point truth was best. “You have to understand, Willem, I was
convinced
you were Onuris, that the prophecy was right. I never intended to cause you harm…”

Willem turned away and carefully placed his cup on the side. Without a word he walked out of the kitchen. Frederick watched him go, his heart sinking. He quickly followed. After the progress they made, he couldn't let Willem go now.

“Willem, wait, please. I'm not explaining this well.”

Willem stopped at the doorway leading to the passage beyond the living room. His whole body was tense, his fists clenched.

“I think you're explaining it fine.” He turned slowly. “Show me this Book that you're putting so much stock in.”

For a second Frederick hesitated, and wondered why Willem would wish to see the Book of Sekhmet. It was not as if anyone, bar himself and Celeste, had ever seen the actual Book; not even Theodor or Erwyn got to the see the original. But then, Frederick reasoned, neither of them had been pegged as the reincarnation of Onuris. Perhaps by seeing the pages of the Book Willem would realise that Frederick's intentions had been noble. Either way, if there was any other upyr alive in the world that deserved to see the Book themselves, Frederick could not think of one.

“Alright,” he said, and crossed the room. He could feel the tension oozing off Willem as he stepped aside to let Frederick pass. He was understandably pissed off. Frederick supposed he would have been too, if it was he who had died in an intentional ambush. Regardless of the reasoning behind it.

He led Willem into his bedroom. “The Book is kept secure, protected in a box designed by Ryuuzaki, a technical genius from Japan. Only I am able to open it,” he said, crouching down and made to pull aside the chest of drawers. He stopped, noticing that the chest was no longer flush with the wall. He looked up at Willem, but the fledgling wasn't smiling. Instead he stood there, his arms folded, watching Frederick carefully.

Frederick offered a reassuring smile, but he wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure. Something was definitely off.

He pulled the chest of drawers away and his breath caught. The wooden panel that usually covered the secret compartment lay in shreds on the carpet, previously hidden by the chest.

He reached in to retrieve the box, knowing full well that whoever had found the hiding place would never be able to remove the actual box. He stopped abruptly, feeling his blood go cold. “No,” he said, his voice barely audible.

The box was in pieces.

The Book was gone, and in its place was a severed arm.

18.

Erwyn never truly understood people, probably because he had never really been one of them. And even then, he had been a kid living in a very secluded farming village, so the natural understanding that came with maturity was lost to him. He had seen much since he'd first met Theodor in Cwm Ogwr in 1733, experienced much more besides, but he had left the “real” world at fifteen and so his understanding of people was somewhat limited. Upyr he understood, but humans…

Now that he had only one good arm most of them seemed so much more considerate than usual, offering an unexpected level of sympathy and support. It was a side of humans Erwyn rarely saw, but the occasional sly look of morbid curiosity he did understand. He was, however, too tired to really care at that point.

It had been a long night, and finally his train had arrived. He made sure the Book was still secure inside his coat, the useless left arm pressed against it, and set off across the concourse of Liverpool Street Station to the train that would take him on the final leg of his journey.

He approached the barrier and reached for the ticket in the back pocket of his jeans, and let out a growl of anger. He had always been left-handed, and for an upyr
always
meant a hell of a long time, and his instinct was still to reach out with his left hand. It was crazy, but he still felt the fingers of his left hand, clenching and unclenching in frustration, even though the lower half of his left arm remained where it had been severed in Freddy's flat. The nurse at the hospital had warned him that he'd still feel like he had a whole arm, because the tendons and nerves would continue to send signals to the brain; something commonly known as “phantom limb syndrome,” apparently. Eventually they would adapt; in the meantime the ghost of his arm would linger.

It was a foregone conclusion that Freddy would have the Book protected, but Erwyn had underestimated him. As determined as he was, Erwyn wasn't careless and had no intention of giving Frederick any reason to suspect him too soon, and so he had checked the flat with care. Putting things back where he found them. Judging by the initial source of conflict between Freddy and the woman at the door, Erwyn didn't expect him to be returning home any time soon. And if, for some reason he did end up coming back earlier than anticipated, then Erwyn would deal with it. No doubt violently.

As it turned out Frederick did not return, and Erwyn had discovered the secret compartment hidden behind the chest of drawers in the bedroom. Shredding the wooden panel was simple enough, but as he knelt there, looking at the box inside, Erwyn paused and wondered.

Did he really want to do this? For 275 years he'd followed one belief, let it guide his actions; it enabled him to work against the Three from within their ranks. He knew he had been young when he'd first met Julius in 1736; only eighteen years old. He was, therefore, probably more impressionable than most, but over the following centuries he came to truly believe the teachings of Julius.

Want didn't really come into it, he knew. He
had
to do it. There was something very odd going on and he had to know what it was. For years he'd been kept away from the Book, never being able to see what it actually said, only ever hearing it quoted by Frederick. He hadn't minded so much, though, since he believed what was written in the Sekhmet Codex. But since Willem had turned up at the factory things had happened that smacked Julius's teachings to the ground. And now Erwyn had to know for sure. Which meant seeing the Book for himself.

That he was betraying the Three by doing so did not bother him, after all he had been betraying the idea of the Three since its conception, but he knew Theodor would take this personally. And it was that which did not sit well on Erwyn's shoulders.

Nonetheless, he had to do what he had to do.

He reached out for the box, but stopped, his hand inches away. Heat emanated from the box, as if it was generating some kind of energy. Erwyn pushed on, gently letting his fingers brush against the box. It was warm, the surface smooth and sleek. It appeared to be wood, but there was no grain to it, no tell-tale grooves. He felt on top of the box, and checked both sides, the space of the compartment big enough for him to places both his arms either side of the box. Feeling no hidden catches or super thin wires, he gently pulled the box towards him. It came out easy enough.

Holding the box gently in both hands, Erwyn stepped backwards carefully, and sat down on the bed.

He smiled, hardly able to believe he was so close. Of course, he knew that getting the Book was just one step to finding the answers, but it was an important one which he had almost completed.

He placed the box on the mattress beside him and ran a hand around the brim, looking for the seal between lid and box. Finally he found it, and he carefully lifted the lid, holding his breath all the while. He put the lid on the duvet, and for a moment just looked at the Book. It had a battered and seemingly burned leather cover, with some kind of old script embossed into the bottom right corner. Even if some of the script hadn't been burned away, Erwyn did not recognise it and thus would never have been able to make out what it said. The papers were such a disorganised mess, in differing shapes and sizes, hardly any of them flush with the cover. It was like they'd all be shoved in, made to fit. Which, Erwyn guessed, was probably true, after all he had heard it said that the Book as it was now contained much in the way of unfinished notes, as well as full passages written by the Ancient.

He let his breath go and reached into the box. No sooner had his left hand touched the leather bound volume than he felt an intense pain just above his elbow. Erwyn's eyes widened as a thin beam of pure radiant energy moved from one end of the box to the other, cutting clean through his arm on the way. He pulled away sharply, but by then it was too late. The laser had done its work.

Unbelievingly he lifted his left arm, and looked curiously at the bloodied stump. No blood dripped, the heat of the laser having cauterised the wound. He opened his mouth to shout, but thought better of it, lest he alert those who lived in the other parts of the converted house. Instead his rage and pain exploded violently and, with his good right arm, he flung the box back into the compartment.

The box shattered under the impact, but for a few moments more Erwyn did not move.

He knew the box would have been protected, but he hadn't expected such an advanced defence.

“
Ffycin cont
!” he hissed, and stood.

He walked back over to the compartment, and knelt down. The laser was now running blindly, no longer bound by the box itself, burning its way into the walls of the compartment. Careful not to get his other arm burned, Erwyn reached in and pulled the Book out. He thought about grabbing his severed arm, too, but decided not to bother; instead he merely grabbed the sleeve of his jumper that had been burned off with the arm. When Frederick found the arm it would throw him for a while, but the jumper would lead him and the others to Erwyn too soon. He needed time to get away, and the discovery of a mysterious arm would give him just that.

Even now, as he boarded the train Erwyn remembered the pain well. Instead of giving into it, he embraced it, used it to propel him on. Once he had left Freddy's he had dumped his jumper in a bin, deciding that his coat and t-shirt would be enough for now. The cold didn't really affect him so much. Stashing the Book inside his coat, Erwyn made his way to Southend Hospital. Fortunately it was a very early Friday morning, and the hospital was yet to be hit by the usual rush that a weekend in Southend brought its way, and so he had easily managed to nab a nurse who was out having a quick fag. The nurse had tried to resist, but once he saw the damaged arm his Hippocratic Oath took over and he helped Erwyn to clean up and dress the wound. He had asked plenty of questions, curious as to why the wound wasn't bleeding profusely. Erwyn didn't answer, after all how would the human understand that the saliva Erwyn had placed onto the wound acted as a healing salve, and within a couple of hours the skin would grow back over the elbow stump? The particulars of upyr existence were not something for which the nurse was ready. For his troubles, Erwyn stashed the nurse in a cupboard before leaving the hospital, and caught a cab to Westcliff Station, from where he began the first leg of his journey to understanding.

And so now, at ten to six in the morning, he was boarding a train out of London. Within four hours he would be in Cambridge and he would know what he wanted to know. And if that knowledge damned him, then so be it. Erwyn knew that, sometimes, consequences could not be escaped.

* * *

Jake was woken by his mobile vibrating next to his ear. He reached up and pressed a button, glancing at the screen. It was only seven o'clock. Four hours sleep was really not enough. He rubbed his eyes and threw his legs over the edge of the bed, looking more closely at the screen of his phone. It was a text message from Conrad.

He placed the phone back on the pillow, and rubbed his head. For a moment he remained as he was, staring at the floor, his brain not really focussing on anything in particular.

He hoped it had been a productive night, but he had a pretty crap sleep and felt somewhat unmotivated. They had spent plenty of time in Zinc, handing out flyers and talking to people. Going to clubs was nothing new to Jake, although he did prefer the pubs, but it was the first time he'd been in a gay club. He was surprised to see so many straight couples there, gyrating on the dance floor, smooching up, before he realised that not every night at Zinc was “polysexual night.” The few gay people he and Charlie spoke to seemed to think they might have seen Willem, but they couldn't be sure, but after speaking to the manager they decided it was best to come back the next night, when more people who had been there the previous week would be about.

Charlie then suggested they try a few of the other clubs along the Lucy Road strip, just in case. After all, it couldn't hurt. So they blitzed the other clubs, including the rather snazzy Bar Blu, which Jake did like. If he wasn't looking for Will he would have been happy to spend the rest of the evening there.

By the time they'd left Talk the weather had taken a turn for the worse, and as it was almost half two Charlie suggested they call it a night. Plenty of other places to canvass tomorrow night, plus they had places to visit during the day. Jake agreed, and so they grabbed a cab back to Charlie's.

Jake had fallen asleep in the cab. He hadn't realised how tired he was. But it had been a long twenty-four hours, what with Amy leaving him the night before, his restless night, and then the rather busy day sorting things out with Charlie, the unexpected call from Willem, and visiting Francis and Sandra. Not to mention the awful phone call with Amy at Fenchurch Street, and all that had happened since arriving at Leigh. Charlie woke him as soon as the cab arrived at his house, and after a brief natter Jake had retired to the guestroom.

He had sat on the bed for a short while, checking his phone just in case he'd missed any messages from Willem, but there was none, and so he found himself re-reading past texts passed between the two of them. He vaguely recalled lying back as he did so, but he didn't remember actually falling asleep, or getting undressed, but now he was sitting in only his boxers so at some point he must have got into the bed.

He looked up, and briefly wondered if perhaps Charlie had come in and got him changed after he had fallen asleep? He hoped not. The idea of Charlie seeing him almost naked did not appeal. Jake shook the thought out of his head and picked up his phone to read the text from Conrad.

It was pretty much the same as the text yesterday, asking if Jake was okay and if he needed to talk he knew where Conrad was. Jake should have been grateful, he supposed, that Conrad was concerned. And he couldn't blame Conrad really, after all, the last he'd seen of Jake was when Jake had stormed out of that pub two nights ago after blowing him.

Jake stood up suddenly. He had used Conrad, plain and simple, yet still Conrad was offering a shoulder despite the lack of response from Jake. He didn't understand it. He threw the phone on the bed. He needed a pee.

He crossed the landing to the bathroom and stopped, the door of Charlie's room opposite slightly ajar. He listened carefully to the sounds of exertion coming from Charlie's room, and screwed his face.
Shit, guy, it's only seven in the morning!

He entered the bathroom, and tried to convince himself that the slight stiffening of his manhood was a result of morning glory and the desperate need to take a leak; it had nothing to do with his mental image of what Charlie was doing.

* * *

It wasn't her dream, if it indeed it was a dream at all. She had followed him to the small tavern, and waited in silence, until Frederick had turned up. Now she stood watching from afar, the words passing between Frederick and the Ancient as clear to her as if she was standing right next to them. They sat outside the tavern in a small village of Tuzara. How Celeste knew the name of the settlement was a mystery, but know she did. It was as if because Frederick and the Ancient knew then it was right she should know, too. Tuzara was in Moldavia, and with the arrival of Frederick she understood clearly what the Ancient had been preparing for. It was 1790, and this was the meeting that was due to change the course of upyr history
.

“Why did you send for me?” Frederick asked, once he had sat down. Frederick looked old, his body nearing the end of its days. But still he appeared as strong and beautiful as he had when she'd first met him, only now his skin was lined and his hair white. Next to the Ancient, though, he looked young
.

Celeste had never been granted an audience with the Ancient, but she knew enough of him to not be surprised by his appearance. Despite his long flowing white hair, and his waxen features, still he had the bearing of his heritage, his dark Egyptian skin making Frederick's look like milk in comparison
.