Scenting Hallowed Blood (15 page)

She shook her head. ‘I don’t
know any more. I fear for Taz. What if Shemyaza should find out
he’s tampering with Daniel? What if he’s just lying in wait?’ She
paused. ‘Do you think Taz’d be stupid enough to go into the
Assembly Rooms without you?’

‘No,’ Lahash answered,
summoning a waiter. ‘He just wants to fuck the boy that Shemyaza
fucks, that’s all. Perhaps getting his own back?’

Aninka uttered a disgusted
sound. ‘You’re wrong. Taziel, for all his ways, is not an animal. I
think he just finds the idea of playing at sleuths amusing.’

The atmosphere during the meal
was strained. Aninka picked at her food, wondering why Lahash had
become so aggressive and bitter. Perhaps Enniel had given him a
harder time than she’d thought. It seemed impossible to imagine
that Lahash could care for her now. The time in Little Moor, and
what happened afterwards, when they’d closed ranks in the draughty
halls of High Crag to face Enniel, seemed insubstantial, as if it
hadn’t really happened. A runnel of anger seethed through her and
she dropped her fork onto her plate, where her steak lay virtually
untouched.

Lahash glanced at her, forking
rare meat into his mouth, an expression of enquiry on his face.

‘I must go,’ Aninka said.

Lahash frowned. ‘Why? You
haven’t finished your meal.’

She gestured helplessly with
stiff fingers. ‘It’s all wrong. None of this feels right.’ She
lowered her hands, composed herself. ‘I don’t think you’re telling
me everything.’

Lahash made an abrupt move,
rubbed one hand through his hair. By that, Aninka guessed she’d hit
on the truth.

‘What could I possibly not be
telling you?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t
know. But there is something. Lahash, why won’t you confide in me?
Are you just using me? I had hoped that was not the case.’

Lahash regarded her without
expression for a few moments, then admitted bluntly, ‘I’ve been
watched.’

Aninka made a small move upon
her seat, but otherwise remained outwardly calm. ‘By whom? The
Parzupheim?’

Lahash shrugged. ‘I don’t know.
I don’t think so. I’m just not sure, but the feeling’s... well, not
good.’

‘You mean bad,’ Aninka said. ‘I
think that’s the word you’re looking for. How do you know? Have you
seen these people?’

He blinked at her. ‘Ninka, I
do
know my business. There have been figures in the porches
of the houses opposite my room. Occasionally, I’ve been aware of
being followed. Noises on the line of my phone by day and in the
static of my head at night. Believe me, someone is watching.’

Aninka leaned towards him,
spoke softly but urgently, suddenly aware that these unseen
pursuers could be here with them in the restaurant. ‘Then you must
forget about Shemyaza. Leave him to those who can match his power.
Why risk your life — or your sanity?’

Lahash clasped his hands
together, closed his eyes briefly, rubbed his long nose with his
thumbs. He sighed. ‘I can’t let this go, Ninka. Things could go
badly for me if I don’t redeem myself with Enniel. He holds the
keys of my life.’ He straightened up. ‘Look, there’s no need for
you to be involved. I understand your feelings, your
anxieties.’

‘Then I’ll just walk out of
here,’ she said, gambling. ‘Like I wanted to before we started this
conversation.’

‘Please don’t.’ Lahash tried a
boyish smile on her. ‘I want you to stay.’

Aninka picked up her fork
again, toyed with her food, staring at her plate. ‘I remember a
conversation that seems to have taken place such a long time ago,
when you said that one day we’d sit in a restaurant, and you’d tell
me the story of your life. Things were different then, weren’t
they?’

He stared at her for a moment.
‘Not that different, no. I’m sorry. Perhaps I seem obsessed. Let’s
spend the day together, enjoy ourselves. I want to do that, Ninka,
I’ve always wanted to. You are very beautiful, and I care about you
a great deal.’

‘I’m surprised to hear you say
that. I’ve had no inkling.’

‘I know. Perhaps I assumed too
much, or expected you to be psychic like Taz. Well, will you spend
the day with me?’

Aninka nodded. ‘OK. We’ll see
how it goes.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘What am I letting myself
in for? Perhaps I’m being presumptuous here, but I couldn’t bear to
get involved with you only to lose you in some horrible,
life-shattering way.’

‘I’ll do my best to avoid that
happening,’ Lahash said.

They went for a walk in the
cold air, strolling through the West End. Lahash bought flowers for
Aninka from a road-side stand. She smelled them, and they had
hardly any perfume. Twice he had given her scentless flowers. An
archaic gesture, perhaps, and now she had to carry them round with
her for the entire afternoon.

As the day became smoky and
blue-grey, they wandered into a cafe and drank espresso coffee. The
city was lighting up around them; buses and taxis roared down
Charing Cross Road. Their conversation skirted the issues of
Shemyaza, Little Moor, Cresterfield, the past. Aninka was astounded
there was so much trivia to talk about. At five o’clock, she looked
at her watch. ‘Well, I’d better get back to the flat. You
coming?’

He nodded. ‘Yes. We should see
how Taz got on.’

He helped her into her coat,
and leaned forward to kiss her hair. ‘Have you had a good
time?’

She turned her head and smiled
up at him, tightly. ‘Yes.’ She wished it could be true.

Taziel was uncharacteristically
energetic, prowling the apartment, eating coleslaw from a plastic
tub. Aninka regarded this transformation with suspicion. She felt
her heart grow heavy, slide down within her.
He fancies
Daniel,
she thought.
He really does.

‘How was it?’ she asked, rather
too acidly.

‘Fine,’ Taz replied. ‘I’m
meeting him again tonight.’

‘What information did you get
out of him?’ Lahash demanded.

Taz frowned. ‘Nothing yet. I
can’t push it. He’s very wary.’

‘We must all talk to Daniel
later,’ Lahash said. ‘You must bring him back here.’

‘We’re going to a club,’ Taz
said. ‘It’ll be late.’

‘I’m sure Aninka and I can find
something to do to amuse ourselves.’

Aninka regarded Taziel
speculatively. She could swear that he’d somehow decided to keep
Daniel for himself, but she wasn’t sure of his reasons for that.
Simple altruism just didn’t ring true. ‘What time do you want us
back?’ she asked him.

‘Around three.’

‘That
is
late.’

Taz shrugged. ‘I know. But I
want him to be settled comfortably here before you arrive. I’ll
pave the way.’

‘Is that wise?’ Lahash said.
‘He might flee.’

‘Trust me,’ Taz answered.
‘We’re both psychics after all. I’m sure I can intrigue him enough
to get him back here without scaring him off. Once he’s here, the
bolt’ll be across the door, don’t worry.’

‘Taz, be careful!’ Aninka
warned. ‘You don’t know what link he might have with Shemyaza. If
you kidnap the boy, Shemyaza might come raging to the rescue. I
don’t want to come home to a wrecked flat, strewn with bits of your
vital equipment!’

‘It won’t be kidnap, I
promise,’ Taz said, grinning, and from the width of the grin,
Aninka gathered only too well what Taz hoped it would be.

‘Once I get the information
from the boy, I’m going hunting,’ Lahash said. ‘It must be
tonight.’

‘What will you do with him?’
Aninka was alarmed it would be this soon.

‘Get him to High Crag as soon
as possible.’

‘He might be frisky,’ Taziel
said. ‘Do you know what you’ll be facing?’

‘Hopefully, yes. After I’ve
talked to the boy.’

Aninka threw herself down in a
chair, one leg hooked over the arm. ‘You’re assuming Daniel will
talk. Why should he? The minute he finds out who and what we are,
the chances are he’ll be hostile, wouldn’t you say?’ Out of the
corner of her eyes, she noticed Taziel stiffen. Hadn’t he thought
of that?

Lahash put his hands into his
coat pockets, which could be stuffed with instruments of torture
for all Aninka knew. ‘Don’t worry. He’ll talk.’

Aninka sighed, scrubbed at her
hair with her hands. ‘I hate this!’

‘You don’t have to be here
later if you don’t want to be,’ Lahash said. ‘You could wait at my
place, although it’s hardly palatial.’

Aninka realised that he was
trying to sound considerate. It only depressed her.

The corridor was long, stretching away
into infinity, into darkness. At the end of it, behind a door
presently hidden in shadow, a blind star blazed. Daniel trudged
down the corridor with aching calves; his legs were reluctant to
make this visit never mind his mind, his heart. What lived in the
room was never far from Daniel’s mind. It lurked there, like
something he didn’t want to do and had forcibly forgotten, or
something to be faced in the future that he dreaded. What lived
there was the ghost of his first love.

The door handle was beneath his
hand; he turned it.

The room behind was dingy and
empty but for a mattress set upon the floor against one of the
walls. On this, Owen Winter sat like a pale, carven effigy, his
white-gold hair upon his shoulders, his body clad in white, in the
way Emma was keen on dressing him. He stared at the door with his
dark eyes, but seemed to see nothing.

Daniel, Owen’s erstwhile lover,
came into the room. Owen neither blinked nor stirred.

‘How are you?’ Daniel asked,
venturing into the brown light, which contained the blazing
star.

Owen said nothing.

Daniel squatted down on the
floor before the bed. He looked up at Owen’s chiselled features,
his radiant, angelic beauty, and the past came back. He remembered
the time Owen had come to pick him up from school in his old car —
it seemed centuries before Peverel Othman had ruined their lives.
Daniel recalled walking toward the car, drinking in the sight of
Owen’s long, liquid body draped against the bonnet. Daniel’s heart
had hammered in desire and fear, because he had not known then that
Owen loved him. He remembered the first time they had truly made
love, and the visions of Shemyaza that had come to him, vistas of
ancient history opening before his eyes, ignited by passion. He
thought of these things, but then, because it came afterward, he
remembered the dark ritual enacted upon the High Place in the
woods, when Owen had become a stranger, who could rape and witness
murder without a thought. Othman had done something to Owen,
something bad. If the essence of Owen lived in the body still, it
was hidden very deep. Daniel had tried to reach out and in to
Owen’s mind, to retrieve the spirit of the one he loved, but the
barriers were beyond his penetration. Now, he could hardly bear to
look upon Owen’s face, because he was still, in his autism, so
lovely.

‘I had to come and talk to
you,’ Daniel said. He did not wait now for responses. ‘I’ve met
someone — a man — and tonight I’m going out with him. I don’t know
what will happen, or whether I really want this. It felt good
today, talking to him. I’m sorry, O, I think I have to do this.
You’ve left me, and there’s nothing I can do about that.’ He wanted
to lean forward and kiss Owen’s bloodless mouth, but couldn’t force
himself to. He was afraid the flesh would be cold and stiff. This
corpse lived.

Because there was nothing more
to say, and he felt he had performed his penance, Daniel left the
room.

For a while, nothing changed in
the dim, brown room. Then a glister came to the cheek of Owen
Winter, and a single tear rolled down it to fall upon his listless
hands where they lay in his lap. A single tear; nothing more. But
the room shook to the etheric echo of a silent, agonised
scream.

Daniel found Lily in Johcasta’s
room, having her hair plaited with ribbons and beads. Lily glanced
at Daniel in the mirror. ‘Did you do it?’

Daniel nodded and sat glumly on
the end of Johcasta’s bed. He could tell Lily was excited about
their proposed night out, although it had been she who’d suggested
that Daniel should visit Owen beforehand. ‘Something is happening
at last,’ she’d said, when Daniel had nervously asked her if she’d
like to go out for the evening. ‘And it gives me an excuse to ask
Israel out.’

Daniel did not relish having to
spend time in Israel’s company, who scared him, but realised that
Israel was part of the deal if Lily was to be his chaperone. She
seemed less interested in the fact that Daniel had met a man, than
that it had allowed her diversions of her own.

‘Have you told Emma?’ Lily
asked.

Daniel shook his head. ‘No.
She’d object.’

Lily nodded. ‘Yeah, best not to
say anything.’ Johcasta had lent her a red velvet dress, which
virtually swept the floor. Radiant in the candlelight of Johcasta’s
room, Lily looked like a medieval princess, some enchanted creature
awoken from sorcerous sleep. Daniel wished he could share her
enthusiasm. Now, he regretted having agreed to meet Jack, and felt
on edge and embarrassed. Yet hadn’t his strange experience the
night before presaged that he wanted or needed physical comfort?
For a moment, in the cafe that morning, he’d felt he’d recognised
Jack. Perhaps his body was calling out for a lover, and coincidence
had aligned to allow Jack to walk into his life. Despite this
admission, he still couldn’t dispel his uneasiness.
What the
hell am I doing?
he wondered, and blamed the beer at
lunchtime.

Israel made an appearance in
Johcasta’s room at eight, bearing bottles of red wine. He was
resplendent in black leather trousers and a minimal black T-shirt,
the dark skin of his arms gleaming dully like forbidden fruit. His
eyes burned with a speculative light as he contemplated casually
the vision of Lily in the glass. She looked so small before him
that Daniel worried for her. He saw Israel as a demon, who could
break her neck like the stem of a flower.