Starblood (The Starblood Trilogy) (12 page)

He sees her face on his pillow and kisses her insubstantial lips. ‘I want you,’ he tells the phantom. ‘Cleanse me, purify me. I’ve lost my way. Show me the way back into your arms.’ His fingers trace the outline of her curls and she smiles. Without undressing, he rubs his body back and forth along the mattress, repeating her name, again and again, smiling and crying.

That night he can hardly sleep. Lilith and fear of death eclipsed by feelings of excitement - Star loves him. She loves him so much she was ready to challenge Paul for him. He misses her—the only beautiful, intelligent and independent girl he has ever dated. He loves the way she refuses to be cowed by him, and how she purrs when they make love—his pussycat, even the way she will always argue back – his tigress.
She adores me and wants to be with me in spite of my eccentricities.
When she arrives tomorrow he will seduce her, and then he will never let her go.

Satori wakes from his fitful sleep at 6 a.m. Only four hours until she’s due to arrive. After eating a bowl of cereal, his first jobs are to shave carefully and slowly, then shower. He is meticulous about this—spending ten minutes soaping and washing under his genitals. He rubs his dermis until it prickles, his pink skin hot beneath the sponge. One by one he cleans his ears, nose and between his toes. His hair is washed three times. He must be perfect.

Drying himself, although quicker, is equally systematic. He counts as he towels each toe and finger. He uses a light powder, expensive deodorant and her favourite cologne, the one she bought him for his last birthday. Then he temporarily ties his hair back and brushes each tooth and his tongue then gargles with mouthwash.

While his hair dries he paints his face. Normally he would save make-up for the evenings, but today he wants to look his very best for Star. He remembers how she would watch him get ready and realises he never watched her apply make-up. He wonders how long it takes her.

After stroking fragrant oil into his now dry hair, he flattens it between red hot straighteners. His hair shines like a dark halo around his face. Gazing at his mirror image, he smiles.

It is only nine o’clock. He paces the bedroom, willing it to be ten. He checks the clock, but his will has not altered time. Snorting, he sits on the bed. His mind clears and he sits motionless for ten minutes then remembers
why
Star is coming: Lilith. From his bag he pulls out the half-dozen books he took from Paul’s library, arranging them around the room. Some he opens while others remain closed and stacked in pairs. The effect is one of a person lost in endless study.

He selects a
Dead Can Dance
compact disc. Deep, tribal music washes over him like the ocean of an exotic country. The baseline is the perfect rhythm for sex.

Something small hits his window. He opens it and looks outside.

‘Didn’t you hear the doorbell?’ Star shouts up at him.

‘Sorry,’ he calls back. ‘The music, I’ll be right down.’

He follows her up the stairs. Now as always, he loves watching the way her hips move as she mounts each one. His fingers itch to hold them as they sway right, then left and right again, but he knows it is too soon.

Entering the room, she pauses as if unsure of herself. Then, perhaps spotting an open book on his bed, she crosses the floor. She sits on his black duvet and picks up the tome.

‘Have you found anything?’ she asks, skimming its pages.

He smiles. ‘First, would you like anything to drink?’

‘Um, yes please. Water would be great.’

He leaves her reading, doubting she will understand a word.

He puts ice and a slice of lemon in the mineral water he pours for her. He blows it a kiss, a small charm for luck, then pours his own glass from the tap and heads back up the stairs.

Hovering in the open doorway, he watches her. Her finger strokes each line as she tries to make sense of the ancient words. If it were anyone else he would chastise them for spreading acid over a book worth more than the house around them, but not her and not today. He just watches the small movements of her body. The slide of her hand across the page, the movement of her throat as she swallows, the rise and fall of her eyelids and the way her nostrils expand and contract as she breathes in and out, they all enchant him. Maybe she feels his gaze because she looks up to where he is standing and smiles.

‘Thank you,’ she says.

He sits next to her on the bed. Not too close, but close enough so that he can feel the energy around her body bump into his own.

‘Do you understand any of it?’ he asks.

‘No,’ she says, sighing.

‘Would you like me to teach you?’

She closes the book and turns her body to face him.

‘I think we have more pressing problems, don’t you?’ she says.

‘Of course,’ he answers, nodding. ‘I don’t have the answer yet.’

Her face falls and he sees accusation in her eyes. She thinks he’s been wasting time. Feelings of guilt burn his throat.

‘But I’m close to finding it,’ he says. ‘These books must contain the solution, but they’re riddles. Nothing in old magic is ever simple. I’m trying to work it out. I know I’m getting close.’

‘Okay,’ she says, lowering her eyes.

Her disappointment cuts him. This isn’t how he planned it. He needs to get her back.

‘Can I help?’ she asks.

Yes
, he screams inside his mind,
yes, yes, yes
. ‘Of course you can help,’ he says aloud. ‘I could really use your help…’
with what, with what
? ‘…With looking through this book for any references to Lilith. If you see her name anywhere mark the page number on…this notebook,’ he says, leaning across to his bedside table drawer and removing a leather-bound pocket book. He flicks to an empty page, and writes in a careful, elegant script. ‘This is what it will look like.’

‘What language is this, Satori?’ she asks.

Pleasure tickles him, hearing her speak his chosen name without prompting. ‘It’s Ancient Hebrew,’ he answers.

‘Can you actually read this?’ she asks. She looks up at him through wide eyes.

He feels her respect licking at his ego. ‘Only a little,’ he says. ‘The rest I have to use a dictionary for.’

‘I didn’t know.’ She sounds astonished.

He wants to tell her more. Explain how the language is numerical, and how meanings are layered upon meanings in each passage. Feeling like a child, eager for his parents’ approval, he wants to tell her the other ancient languages he taught himself to understand, so that he can replay that look of wonder and admiration again and again. Swallowing his words, he watches her. She is reading again. He drinks in the image of her as her fingers hover over the words. Her movements are faster this time, now she is dismissing all information except the one word for which she searches. He breathes deeply; her scent, mingled with that of the musty knowledge she holds, intoxicates him. He feels dizzy, and has to screw his eyes up tight to break his trance.
Start working
, he tells himself and reaches for a book.

Absorbed in the mysteries he is researching, time rushes past. A gurgling noise brings him back to the material world.

‘What was that?’ he asks.

Star blushes. ‘I’m sorry, it was my stomach. I skipped breakfast this morning.’

He grins at her. ‘I like it,’ he says. ‘It’s like your body is talking to me.’

He puts his book to one side, using a faded ribbon to mark his place for later. Boldly, he stretches his hand out towards her.

‘Come, I’ll make you some lunch. Mum went shopping last night so there’ll be loads to eat.’

She looks at his hand as if wondering whether to take it. Satori senses her confusion and steps backwards lowering his hand to his side. He bows his head in a way he hopes will say,
as you wish. I am as always, your humble and grateful servant
. She stands up and smiles, watching his face. He is sure she wants to say something, but is too frightened or shy. He hopes the unspoken words are a message of love. They could be. The possibility of it is in the air. The chemistry between them is obvious.
Just take things slowly
, he warns himself,
all things come
…

Satori prepares an enormous lunch by grabbing armfuls of food, packets of cheeses, hummus, dips and salad from the American-style double door refrigerator, and bringing them to the kitchen table, laying them before Star like an offering. Then he takes a packet of pita breads from the cupboard, two plates and a new glass of water for each of them, fills and switches on the kettle.

‘Marian working today?’ Star asks, looking around the silent room.

‘Yep. The life of a lonely, only child, eh?’ he jokes.

She nods, smiling again. She’s smiled a lot today. More than Satori can remember her doing for a long time.

‘I feel your pain,’ she says.

He opens the bag of pitas for her and watches as she fills one with hummus and salad leaves. He unwraps a block of cheese and heads for the knife drawer.

She watches him slice it. He has to force himself to look at the knife rather than her. He doesn’t want to end this shared moment in a pool of blood.

‘Would you like some?’ he offers, passing a slice of cheese across the table.

She shakes her head, still chewing, her mouth full of food, then licks the hummus from her fingers. As he watches each digit enter her mouth his pulse quickens. He licks his lips, and she blushes.

‘Are you going to Club Midian tonight?’ she asks.

He shrugs. ‘I thought I’d keep looking through these books. Are you?’

She frowns, ‘I haven’t decided yet. Donna mentioned some play she got tickets for. I think it’s tonight.’

‘Are you sure Raven’ll let you miss it?’ he says, grinning.

Star snorts a half-laugh then sighs.

‘It’s got like that hasn’t it?’ Then quietly she adds, as if to herself. ‘I so need to get away.’

‘You could, you know.’ The words are out before he can stop them.

‘What?’ Star asks, looking up from her plate.

Satori looks at her. Fear of pushing her away again makes him swallow his words. ‘Nothing, sorry. How’s your lunch?’

‘Good, thank you. But Steve … Satori … whatever, I’m not sure what
this
is. But it isn’t a date, okay? I’m not coming back to you. I can’t … I won’t … I’m sorry.’ She pushes her plate away and gulps at her drink. ‘Back to the books,’ she says, and walks out of the kitchen without offering to help him clear up.

Puzzled, he puts the open packets of food away and stuffs the plates in the dishwasher. Before following her upstairs, he takes a few moments to meditate. Sucking deep, cleansing breaths through his nose and blowing the hot air through his teeth. He faces east and visualises the sunlight entering him through his skull. With his forefinger and thumb he touches his forehead, chest and groin, his left then right shoulder and finally he places both hands across his chest. He feels the light fill his body. Energy crackles at his fingers, then he discharges all the darkness through his feet and into the earth.

Smiling, he jogs up the stairs and joins Star in his room. She is already deep within the book, scouring its pages for the demon’s name.

Chapter 19

‘I’m making myself some lunch, Raven. Want anything?’

Raven looks up from her book. Her eyes look tired even through the perfect makeup. ‘Uhh, yes, I’ve got some Miso soup in there somewhere.’

‘I know where it is. Are you okay?’ Donna frowns at her flat mate.

Raven’s fingers tremble as she turns the page of her book. ‘Sure, yeah, I’ll be fine. You know…’

Sighing, Donna stands up from the velvet sofa and stretches. It is three o’clock already. Time passes too quickly at the weekend. A mountain of washing, a scribbled shopping list and a dirty bathroom demand somebody’s attention. They will all have to wait. Today is the day Donna, Raven and Star find peace from the soul-destroying working week, a day for reading, music, movies sometimes. Not a day for housework. That will be tackled tomorrow with hushed voices and dark shades and the shopping, well it can always be purchased online.

The galley kitchen is tiny. Clusters of plates and dishes, full of cold foamy water, crouch on the worktop and in the sink, waiting. ‘What a dump,’ Donna whispers, flicking on the kettle.

‘Where’s Star?’ Raven’s voice pierces through the thickening haze of steam.

Donna shrugs and pours the boiling water onto a small pile of powder in the bottom of Raven’s black mug. ‘I don’t know, but she’s been acting strangely all week.’

‘It’ll be a man,’ Raven answers. ‘It’s always a man. They fuck you up.’

‘Amen to that,’ Donna whispers as she stirs the powder into a thin and insubstantial looking soup. ‘How do you have any energy at all, living on this crap?’

‘Hmmm?’ Raven’s voice sounds automatic. She isn’t listening. A world of New Orleans’ vampires, futuristic pagans or Victorian drug addicts must have dragged her back into the pages.

Donna wishes she could consume books as quickly. She wishes she could concentrate on anything other than the growing dread that Sarah is in trouble.
I am not her keeper. I have to let her make her own mistakes.
She knows though that
w
hat is easily said is not always easily done.
Where are you?
The temptation to phone Sarah’s mobile rises for the eighth time since Donna woke two hours ago. Once more she pushes it aside and pokes her nose inside the fridge to search for something edible: old pizza, perfect.

‘Is this gonna be enough?’ Donna asks, passing over the steaming mug.

‘What?’ Raven shakes her head. Her forehead crinkles into her trademark scowl and she looks up at Donna. ‘Yes. It’ll be fine…thank you.’

Donna takes a bite of the cold pizza. It always tastes much better on the second day, when the cheese is hard and rubberised. Raven is vegan and Star eats so little that a large pizza can last for days. Strings of cheese hang from the serrated edge. Donna licks a film of grease from her lips and shrugs back into the soft couch. A contented sigh escapes her before she remembers that she cannot be happy until she knows Sarah’s okay.