Scenting Hallowed Blood (24 page)

Daniel sat up and stretched.
‘They must all be rich, then.’ He grinned archly. ‘Like you.’

Taziel smiled thinly in
reply.

The driver brought his vehicle
to a halt before the front doors. Lahash’s car was parked nearby,
along with an array of four-wheel drive vehicles that belonged to
the family. The driver turned in his seat and gave Taziel a sickly
smile. ‘Well, we made it.’

‘Yeah. Thanks. You were great.’
Taziel opened the car door. ‘Shall we go in?’ They would have to
offer the driver food and rest before he drove back to London.

Taziel had to ring the doorbell
several times before a sleepy member of Enniel’s staff came to
answer it — some underling of Austin’s who’d been instructed to
wait up for them. Yawning, he invited them inside. The driver’s
eyes were very round as they entered the grand hall-way. Taziel
made a brief explanation and asked that their driver be given
hospitality. ‘But don’t worry about us. We’ll crash out in the
drawing-room for a couple of hours.’ The servant knew Taziel from
the time he’d been down before with Aninka, and grudgingly allowed
him to lead Daniel off down the corridor.

Daniel stared about himself
with weary amazement. This was what Long Eden would have looked
like in its prime: dark, gleaming wood, tapestries and paintings;
heavy furniture and muted light. Taziel opened a door and led him
into a spacious room where long, stained glass windows overlooked
the garden. The curtains hung open, admitting the wan dawn light.
They could hear the crash of the sea from here. A clock ticked
richly within the room. ‘Take the sofa by the hearth,’ Taziel said.
‘The fire’s still glowing.’

In a daze, Daniel stumbled
towards the long, well-cushioned couch and threw himself down. The
luxury of straightening his body out on the comfortable upholstery
was almost too blissful to bear. He was racked by cramps and aches
from the car journey.

Taziel went over to an ornate
sideboard and picked up a bottle. ‘Enniel always has good brandy,’
he said, lifting two fat globes by the stems in the fingers of his
other hand. ‘In every room.’

Daniel laughed weakly. ‘Is that
true?’

Taziel sat down on the end of
the sofa. ‘Absolutely.’ The thick sound of pouring liquor could be
heard. ‘Here, a night-cap, or a dawn-cap. You look like you need
it.’

Daniel rolled onto his back and
took the proffered glass. When he sipped the brandy, it burned his
mouth and throat, but it was comforting heat. He closed his eyes
and rested his head against the cushions. ‘This... feels... so...
good.’ He heard Taziel lean back at the end of the couch.

‘Yeah.’ He sighed. ‘Daniel, I
can’t tell you how sorry I am about what happened tonight.’

‘Try.’ Daniel opened his eyes.
He wasn’t about to forgive Taziel for his part in the deception.
‘Your friend is a thug.’

‘Well, as I told you in the
car, he’s an exiled Murkaster,’ Taziel said. ‘From Little Moor. You
should know their reputation.’

Daniel nodded. ‘Lily will be
amazed to find out one of her relatives is still around.’ Daniel’s
face fell. ‘I hope she’s all right. I don’t think she is, but what
can I do?’

Taziel reached for Daniel’s
booted foot and rotated his ankle. ‘Nothing at the moment. We’ll
talk to Enniel tomorrow. He might be able to help.’

‘Is Shem here?’ Daniel
asked.

Taziel looked into the embers
of the fire. ‘Lahash’s car was out front, so I suppose so.’

‘I should find him,’ Daniel
said and rose up off the cushions.

‘Not now,’ Taziel said sharply.
‘We are in Enniel’s house and must play by his rules. We must wait
to see what he’s done with... Shemyaza.’

Daniel slumped back. ‘I can’t
just lie here doing nothing. I’m worried about Lily and Owen, and
about Shem and Emma.’

‘They’ll survive without you
for a few hours.’ Taziel ran his hand up Daniel’s shin. ‘I wish I
could go back in time and re-live this night. I would have played
it differently.’

Daniel stared at him without
expression, wanting to push his hand away, wanting to take hold of
it and squeeze the fingers tightly, guide them to his face. It was
hard to stay angry with Taziel. Since they’d met, they’d shared
some weird experiences, and on the nightmare journey down to
Cornwall, Taziel had succeeded in keeping Daniel safe. ‘What were
those things that were after us?’ he asked.

Taziel shook his head. ‘I don’t
know. Grigori have many specialised mutations. Still, we’re safe
from them here.’

‘I hope so.’ Daniel put his
half-finished brandy down on the carpet, and pulled a heavy tartan
blanket down from the back of the couch.

‘You’re cold,’ Taziel said, and
tried to arrange the blanket around him.

Daniel shook his head and
pushed Taziel’s hands away. ‘Not really. But I will be once I’ve
taken my clothes off. Will you see to my boots?’

Taziel stared at him
speculatively for a moment, then said, ‘OK.’ He began to unlace the
left boot, his fingers not entirely steady.

Awareness of Taziel’s
nervousness rekindled a flame of lust in Daniel’s belly. He felt
exhausted but sensual, and beyond being angry with Taziel’s lies.
They were all in this together now, come good or bad. He knew
Taziel wouldn’t take the initiative now, because he was wary of
rebuff, but he could tell Taziel was thinking of their interrupted
passion. Daniel waited until both boots were off before saying, ‘We
have something to finish, haven’t we?’

Taziel paused before answering,
still anticipating scorn and refusal. ‘Whatever you want.’

‘I want,’ Daniel said.

Taziel nodded abstractedly and
stood up. He turned his back on Daniel and slowly removed his
clothes. Daniel had to admit that it was quite a performance. He
thought,
Shem is here in this house. Can he sense this?
And
the thought of that intensified his desire. He struggled out of his
jacket and T-shirt, and opened the top of his jeans. Taziel turned
to him, an erotic silhouette in the twilight. Without words, he
leaned over Daniel and slid his hands inside his jeans, pulling
them down in one dextrous movement, slipping them over Daniel’s
feet.
You’re too practised,
Daniel thought dispassionately.
How many times have you done that? Did you do it to Peverel
Othman?

Taziel laid his warm body over
Daniel’s cooler skin; their flesh was throbbing to the same
insistent demands. Daniel thought of Owen’s timid, respectful
love-making, the memory of how they had discovered carnal pleasures
together for the first time. This Grigori male was experienced and
confident. It was different and arousing, but not altogether more
pleasing.
Too many have passed this way,
Daniel thought.
Owen’s inexperience had been special and pure. Was it lost forever
now? Taziel kissed him like a serpent, invasive and muscular. This
was not the anxious person harbouring secrets, who had lain beside
Daniel in the apartment in London. The truth was out between them
now and, sure of Daniel’s compliance, Taziel no longer felt
diffident. For a moment, Daniel experienced panic, felt overwhelmed
and out of control. Then Taziel’s skilful fingers were sliding over
his flat belly, playing lightly across his groin, pausing to
squeeze, pull, massage, before running delicately along his inner
thighs. He seemed to want nothing in return.

The light was pale and grainy
in the room, and sea-birds outside were beginning to scream for the
morning. Daniel felt himself becoming delirious with pleasure. His
body was an instrument, and each stroke and caress of Taziel’s
hands conjured a new, exquisite chord of sensation. It seemed as if
the sofa was swallowing them both.
I’m not really here,’
Daniel thought, and stared dazedly at the silvery sky beyond the
windows. One moment he was drifting on the ocean of Taziel’s
caresses, the next Taziel was pushing inside him. It happened so
smoothly. Daniel expelled a moaning sigh and pressed his head back
into the cushions, his legs curling around Taziel’s lean back.
Their movements were slow, languorous, slippery.
How does he do
this?
Daniel thought.
It’s so comfortable.
The light of
new day filled his eyes like tears. And there was a tall, dark
shape against the windows, indistinct and shadowy. Only its eyes
were visible; vaporous blue lights, burning like neon. Daniel tried
to concentrate on it, aware of it, yet distant from its presence.
He sensed its focused attention, yet could not gauge whether it was
hostile or not. He wanted to tell Taziel about it, but could not
speak. It seemed as if he lay there for hours, moving with
unnatural slithery slowness, staring at the silent, watchful
figure. Daniel felt that as Taziel moved inside him, the sun rose
and fell a hundred times, while quick, buzzing figures went about
their daily business invisibly in this room, unable to see the
lovers on the couch because they moved to a different rhythm in
space and time — far slower, removed and tranquil. Only the tall
shape before the window could see them, and it could see right
inside them to the pulsing, bloody core. A tide of feeling was
building up within Daniel’s belly and soon it would crash through
him in a dazzling foam. When it crested, it would banish the sight
of that sentinel figure. Nothing else could.

Only the onset of orgasm
enabled Daniel to close his eyes. Reality crept back in. He was
aware of Taziel’s heart beating hard and furious against his own.
The feelings within him had accelerated, like a film of an ocean
shore on fast forward. Waves sizzled up the beach with unnatural
speed and withdrew in a frothing, lacy spume. His head ached
slightly and his eyes felt gritty. He turned his head upon the
cushions, blinking back sparks of light, and the crescendo of
coming gushed through him; uninvited and immediate. It filled all
the darkest pools of his spirit, then drew back its watery, weedy
tendrils, leaving a flotsam of sparkling shells and darting
creatures, before threshing back up the shore of him again. It was
like drowning rather than surfing the wave.

Taziel waited for Daniel’s
feelings to subside, before gently withdrawing. Daniel realised
Taziel had climaxed some minutes before. The cushions beneath them
were wet with their mingled seed. Sleepily, Daniel wondered whether
they should try to do something about that to avoid embarrassing
explanations later in the day, then yawned and thought,
Oh, so
what.
They both turned on their sides and pulled the blanket
over them. Already their sweat was cooling. Daniel could hear his
own heart thumping in his ears. Taziel curled against Daniel’s
spine and curved an arm around Daniel’s chest, briefly kissing the
back of his neck.

‘Are you OK?’ he whispered.

Daniel nodded. Suddenly, he
felt like crying. ‘Shem was here,’ he said. ‘I saw him.’

He felt Taziel’s body stiffen,
become alert. ‘No, no he wasn’t. You were imagining it.’

‘I saw him,’ Daniel said,
yawning. ‘By the window. He watched us. He’s gone now.’

Taziel shivered, but said
nothing. Daniel slept long before Taziel dared to close his
eyes.

Lily woke up believing she was eight
years old. She was on holiday with her mother and Owen, and the
room around her was the small, rather Spartan bedroom in the
boarding house beside the sea, which they visited every year. There
was the old, scratched night table beside her bed, covered in a
yellowed lace doily. A huge, shapeless wardrobe of dark wood
dominated the left wall. Without looking over the side of the bed,
she knew the carpet would be almost colourless and threadbare. She
could hear gulls outside and the faint roar of the ocean. The air
smelled of the past, of childhood; the briny perfume of sand stuck
to bare legs with the brackish liquor of stagnant rock pools. Lily
shivered and turned over in the high, creaking bed. Then she
remembered the events of the night before, and it came with a jolt.
She sat up in the bed and the thin, white counterpane fell away
from her body. She was fully dressed and the mattress beneath her,
covered inadequately by an ancient flannelette sheet, was damp.
No-one had slept here for years and this was not a seaside
boarding-house.

Lily got out of bed and went
over to one of the two small windows. She looked out upon a bleak
landscape, a grey sky. The house was positioned in the centre of a
flat garden of gravel paths and symmetrical lawns. Two hundred
yards away from the building, a grey stone wall enclosed the garden
boundary. Somewhere nearby the sea lunged hungrily at the land,
heard but not seen. Lily rubbed her arms: she felt so cold. She
glanced at her watch; two o’clock. It seemed inconceivable that
less than a day ago she had been in London with Daniel, getting
ready for a night out. Why had there been no presentiment to warn
her what would happen? ‘Daniel.’ She said his name aloud and
touched the windowpane. Was he safe? Had the Emim waited at the
Assembly Rooms for his return?

A memory flashed into her mind:
the day Daniel had walked into her cottage in Little Moor, bringing
an invitation for her and Owen to go for dinner at his father’s
house. She had not liked him then, because she’d felt jealous,
aware of the seeds that he and Owen had planted between them, which
even at that early stage, had been pushing their way to the light
through the fertile soil of their needs. She had felt excluded,
resentful. Now, she realised she had come to depend upon Daniel. He
didn’t have to do anything to prove his protective power; just his
mere presence was enough to create a sanctuary around her. He was
strength and light; no wonder Owen had loved him.

Escaping Little Moor with
Shemyaza had seemed the climax of an unreal and terrifying time in
her life. How foolish. Events in the north had been only a
foretaste of what was to come. Once Peverel Othman had come into
their lives and made them aware of their Grigori blood, they had
been doomed. There was no going back, no safe normality to retreat
to. Now what? Dare she open the door to this room — presuming it
wasn’t locked — and explore the boundaries of her prison? Should
she just wait here until someone came?