Scenting Hallowed Blood (45 page)

‘I can’t see the point of it
all,’ he said. ‘What good can come of reawakening the power of the
land? People will only abuse it, mine and yours alike.’

‘Well, people like you and I
are here to prevent that happening. Have faith in yourself, my
lord.’

Shemyaza laughed. ‘I am Shem,’
he said. ‘At least that’s what my friends call me. If I am lord,
then you are my lady. We should be partners, not master and
servant.’

Tamara was pleased with his
words, although she sensed they belonged to the ordinary aspect of
his personality and would be quickly forgotten by the Fallen One
when he was invoked. When he was existing normally, Shemyaza seemed
almost oblivious of his darker side. She could tell he was
attracted by the thought of believing and trusting her.

‘So what will happen
afterwards?’ he asked her.

She glanced at him, changed
gear to take a sharp bend. ‘Whatever you like. We’ll be able to do
anything. Stay here, leave here. I’d rather like to travel.’

He nodded. ‘I could show you
some wondrous things, places that no human has ever seen.’ He
relaxed in his seat. ‘I could take you to the farthest mountains
where ancient citadels lie empty to the air. You could touch the
sacred paintings on the walls. You could drink from the pools of
holy water that are colder than the void. I could take you to the
barren deserts where cities lie beneath the sand. When the right
ceremonies are performed, the portals of sealing will open and you
can go down to walk the deserted streets. You could take the diadem
of a princess from an open tomb and wear it for me.’

Tamara wanted to believe all
this was possible. She herself was unsure of what would happen once
the serpent was awake. It was possible that the earthly aspect of
Shemyaza, the Shem of him, would be burned away. ‘Here we are,’ she
said and brought the car to a jolting halt.

They had to climb over a gate
and walk across several fields to the site. On a bare hillside, a
stone Celtic cross reared from the land. It stood upon a raised
dais of three steps. Conveniently, the rain that day had kept all
sightseers from the spot. As they trudged towards the cross, Tamara
explained that it symbolised the grave of Constantine, an ancient
Cornish king.

‘What do you want me to do?’
Shem asked. He seemed to be in good spirits, as if this was all a
game.

‘Touch the cross,’ she
answered. They halted before it. ‘Tell me what you feel.’

Shem grinned at her
quizzically, then mounted the dais and extended a pale hand towards
the stone. When his flesh made contact, Tamara felt a surge of
power burst out from the monument. She staggered backwards under
its force and her hat fell over her eyes. Gasping, she pushed it
back and saw that two figures stood beside the cross. One was
clearly Shem, but the other shimmered before her eyes. It was a
man, clad in a long tabard of white and gold, his hair confined by
a metal circlet. Tamara uttered a cry of surprise and concern.
Shemyaza had invoked the ghost of Constantine. She could sense the
old king’s overwhelming desire to acquire freedom and power. His
hunger made him dangerous. Shemyaza seemed unconcerned, standing
with his arms folded, staring curiously at the vision.

‘Send him back!’ Tamara
yelled.

Shem turned his head to look at
her. ‘Why? Isn’t this what you wanted?’

Tamara shook her head
frantically. ‘No!’ She could feel her strength being sucked from
her body by the thirsty spirit. ‘Shem, do it now! Lay him to rest!
He’ll kill us!’

Shem shrugged and placed his
hand against the stone cross once more. The spirit uttered a
despairing wail, before its substance disintegrated and was
absorbed back into the stone like smoke.

Tamara exhaled a sigh of
relief, and concentrated on calming her hysterical heart. ‘We must
be careful, Shem. These ancient energies are desperate for
release.’

He came to her side and
enfolded her in his arms. ‘It’s nothing I can’t handle. Remember,
I’m capable of waking the serpent. Ghosts don’t frighten me.’ He
kissed her briefly on the lips. ‘We are partners. Share my
power.’

Just the feel of his arms
around her woke Tamara’s desire. She felt the familiar writhing
demand in her womb. Tenderly, Shem lifted her in his arms and
carried her to the dais. He sat her down upon the top step and
opened her duffel coat. Then he lifted her thick fisherman’s jumper
and took her breasts in his hands. He leaned forward to suck the
nipples. Tamara opened his trousers and freed his straining prick.
She raised her skirts, which were drenched with rain. Beneath them,
she wore no underwear. Then she wrapped her arms backward around
the cross, raising her legs to grip Shem’s body. He found his way
into her instantly and they drenched the site with their own,
special power.

The next night Tamara took
Shemyaza down to the sea. Giggling like children, they invaded the
holy cave of the Pelleth, knowing they courted danger and
discovery. Shem sat upon the giant’s throne, and she impaled
herself on his lap, half wishing that Meggie and the others would
appear at the mouth of cave, to witness her white, full body riding
the staff of their god. He would leave his seed upon the sacred
seat.

Afterwards, they walked hand in
hand along the beach. The tide was low and they were able to stroll
from cove to cove. At midnight, they reached St Michael’s Mount, or
Carreg Luz en Kuz as it was known in the ancient tongue. Here,
Tamara wanted them to enter the water. They undressed in the chill
air and left their clothes folded upon a rock. Then they joined
hands and ran into the water like holidaymakers, or children.
Shemyaza strode into the waves and began to swim. Tamara clung to
his back, riding his powerful body. He dove beneath the surface and
Tamara could see that the water was lit up with glowing globes of
light that flashed around them. She saw that the spectral shapes of
the oanes began to take on a more physical form. Their whale-song
cries filled her head. Shem dove deeper, and it seemed neither he
nor Tamara needed air to breathe, for there was no discomfort in
their lungs. The weedy spires of Lyonesse appeared before them
through the gloom and Shem sped towards them, his body undulating
like a fish. The water was filled with light, as if they swam
beneath a Mediterranean sky. The wide streets of Lyonesse were
empty, but glittering with the jewels of fishes and bubbles of air.
Shem swam to the great temple, the omphalos of the city. Here, they
found Delmar waiting for them. He sat upon the altar, where the
holy drapes had been replaced by ribbons of weed. Shem spoke to
Tamara through her mind. ‘Take him, my lady.’

Tamara glanced at him in shock.
‘No! He is virgin. He must remain so. Until the night before his
death.’

Shem smiled and a stream of
shining bubbles escaped his lips. ‘That is their way, not ours.
Prepare him for me. The gift is mine, but I pass it to you.’

Tamara swam to the altar.
Delmar fixed her with his dark eyes. Here, beneath the sea, they
were full of intelligence and understanding. He rose up from the
altar to hang before her, a blade of shining flesh. His hair
billowed around his head, strung with pearls and shells. Tamara
floated down to lie upon the altar. She landed weightlessly like a
single strand of weed meeting the ocean bed, and her limbs drifted
lazily, like the tendrils of an anemone. ‘Come to me, Del,’ she
thought.

The boy spread out his arms and
kicked with his legs, until he hung over her, inches away from her
body. His skin looked silvery green, and when he reached for her
breasts with his hands, she could see the fingers were webbed. His
prick, when he entered her, was freezing cold. ‘Who was your
father, Del? Not Patrick Tremayne, that’s for sure!’ She closed her
eyes, enjoying his slow, cautious movements inside her. A vision
came to her of Ellen Tremayne walking down to the ocean on
mid-summer night, to meet the cold, fishtailed lover who waited on
the farthest rock for her. Delmar. Not meant for the world of light
and air. Tamara wound her fingers in his floating hair. Then she
heard him utter a seal cry in his mind. Opening her eyes, she saw
Shemyaza over his shoulder. Soon the three of them were moving to a
single, oceanic rhythm, Delmar caught between Shemyaza and Tamara
as a symbol of both male and female. Pumping like a jellyfish,
trailing fronds of limbs, they rose up through the water. Seals and
oanes and fishes tumbled around them in a maelstrom of flashing
hide and scales. Tamara felt slick skin brush against her outflung
legs. She felt fishes nibbling her fingers. Their orgasm was one
orgasm, melding them into a single creature.

Tamara felt the last of the air
squeeze from her lungs. She was breathing water.

With a final push, they burst
free of the surface, and Tamara gulped air. Delmar was still inside
her. He gave her a final kiss, before pulling himself free of her
body and diving back beneath the waves. Shemyaza took her in his
arms. ‘Another site sanctified,’ he murmured.

They awoke on the beach before
dawn, and Tamara wondered how much of what she’d experienced had
been vision or dream. It was the middle of winter, yet her naked
body did not feel cold. The light was breaking in the eastern sky,
and the chapel on the mount was a dark sentinel looking down upon
them. This was the test. The seat of Michael’s power in this land,
an old adversary of Shemyaza’s.

They dressed themselves in
silence and walked hand in hand towards the chapel. A tense
atmosphere of expectation hung between them. ‘Are you ready for
this?’ Tamara asked.

Shem squeezed her fingers. ‘I
am.’

They went into the shadows of
the building, where the dawn light had not yet reached. Tamara hung
back by the door as Shem approached the altar. When he laid his
hand upon it, the chapel filled with light. Outside the dawn sky
had been shorn of clouds, and clear winter blue shone through. The
sun came in through the stained glass windows and coloured Shemyaza
crimson and gold. Before him, in the air, the dawn light condensed
into a glowing column. Tamara saw a shining figure form within it,
haloed in fire, his armour made of gold. A sword hung from his slim
hips. Michael, a manifestation of the sun god.

‘Traitor! You dare to enter my
citadel of the sun?’ His voice was like a clash of falling
bells.

‘I dare,’ Shemyaza answered.
‘Go back whence you came. This is my kingdom now.’

Tamara had shrunk back against
the chapel door, terrified that this powerful entity would blast
Shemyaza’s fragile body of flesh and blood. But Shemyaza reached up
and gripped the body of Michael round the waist. With apparently
little effort he pushed the shining figure down through the stone
of the altar. Michael writhed and screamed, but was unable to
escape. His exhortations escaped his writhing lips in wisps of
smoke. Finally, Shemyaza put his hand flat against the top of
Michael’s head and forced the last of him into the stone. A haze of
sparkling motes was all that was left behind, which presently
popped out of existence.

Shemyaza stood alone, limned in
coloured light, gazing down upon the altar, his hands hanging
slackly by his sides.

Tamara stood with her hands
against her mouth. She could hardly believe what she’d seen. If
Shemyaza could defeat Michael, he could defeat anything. She
hurried towards him and took his arms in her hands.

‘Now Shem.
Now
we can
begin!’

Emma had been surprised at how readily
Daniel accepted the suggestion that he meet with the local witches.
Perhaps it was because he was so desperate about Shem. As a
psychic, Daniel took it for granted that information unavailable to
others was easily accessible to him, but he had lost all sense of
Shemyaza, and could not contact him.

Daniel and Emma walked the few
miles to Meggie’s cottage through fine, dreary rain in the late
afternoon. ‘It makes sense that these women should know about
Shem,’ Daniel said. ‘What the old woman said is right; Shem’s power
and light is not just for the Grigori. It makes me feel better to
know that humans are also working with this frequency.’ He smiled.
‘And what better people than a coven of genuine Cornish witches?
They will be part of this land, Emma, and therefore part of the
serpent. If anyone can reach and help Shem in this hour of
uncertainty, I’m sure they can.’

‘But what about the
Parzupheim?’ Emma asked. ‘Surely, they are more powerful?’ Having
known Peverel Othman so intimately, she was unconvinced any human
was poky enough either to help Shemyaza or augment his power.

Daniel made a scornful sound.
‘Those old farts? Huh! They aren’t anywhere near understanding what
Shem is all about. They’re far too greedy and narrow-minded.’

‘I don’t think you could call a
conclave of angels “old farts”,’ Emma said dryly. ‘However, let’s
just see what this Meggie has to offer. Like you, I’m worried about
Shem. He needs all the help he can get.’

When they reached Meggie’s
cottage, and were sitting in the kitchen with Meggie and her
taciturn sister, Emma was alarmed at how freely Daniel spilled his
thoughts to them. There was an edge of hysteria to his low voice.
He kept brushing back his hair with a jerky, frantic gesture.

Don’t lose it
, Emma
thought. She wanted to take Daniel in her arms, take him back to
High Crag, but sensed he’d be far from compliant.

‘If Shem has gone to the
serpent, I need to be with him,’ Daniel said. ‘But for some reason,
I can’t reach him. It’s as if there’s a dark wall around him,
hiding him from my sight.’

Meggie nodded slowly. ‘Hmm. It
might be a good idea if you go into trance while sitting in the
giant’s chair. It is the seat of our oracle, and was placed in our
sacred cave by the giants thousands of years ago. It was here that
our oracle learned of your existence. If you call to Shemyaza from
the chair, the Pelleth can combine their strength with yours to
enhance your sight...’