The Grigori: Stalking Tender Prey Part 22

Lily sighed. Thanks. I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm feeling a bit bothered myself at the moment.'

So am I, thought Eva. She knew something was afoot in the village, but Emilia kept her in the dark. Perhaps Lily coming here asking questions was just a single component of what was buzzing beneath the surface of life at present.

As Lily left the Post Office, she missed Peverel Othman escorting Emilia Manden back from the day centre. If she'd seen them, she might not have recognised Emilia who was looking so spry and vivacious.

Emilia knew that her daughter Eva was choosing to overlook the obvious changes in her mother, and was experiencing a kind of selective blindness, which suited Emilia fine. Eva was rebellious. She never had understood the special relations.h.i.+p Emilia had enjoyed with the Grigori. Been jealous, no doubt.

Emilia felt Othman was taunting the old ones in the village by turning up at the day centre as and when it suited him. A few of the more alert ones had realised Othman must have given Emilia some essence; she could feel their jealousy. All he was prepared to give the rest of them, it seemed, was his presence. Perhaps that in itself was a promise. Emilia wanted more than simple promises.

You'll come in?' Emilia said as she and Othman approached the back door to the building. The garden was in shade, and it was cold on the porch. There was a strong scent of ripe apples in the air.

I don't think...'

Maybe I phrased that wrong,' Emilia said in a firm voice. you are coming in. I'm ready for more.'

Well, maybe I'm not.'

Is that so? Be careful, Othman, I can have a pack of famished hounds down on your back while you lie asleep at night. I can tell your little Winter friends a few things about you.'

How brave you are, to threaten me,' Othman said.

No. If you harmed me, everyone would know, because they saw you walking home with me. Harm me, and you'd have to leave here immediately, and you don't want that, do you?'

With a resigned sigh, Othman followed Emilia into the dark house. Emilia was a hunched shadow in the kitchen. You find me repulsive, don't you,' she said. Don't worry, I won't inflict this rotting flesh on you. Give me some light, and you can go. Come on, give me your wrist.'

Othman directed a penetrating stare at her. His eyes seemed to burn. Think you know it all, don't you?' he said. Come here.'

Emilia paused a moment, then complied. He'd let her have it one way or another, she didn't care which.

With cold, insensitive hands, Othman roughly pushed the old woman over the table, belly first. An irrepressible thrill ignited Emilia's flesh. He wouldn't, surely? A twenty year old memory twitched in her belly as Othman fastidiously removed her voluminous underwear. Sweet Emilia,' he said, and she braced herself for the delicious thrust.

Perversely, and obviously so as not to let her have it all her own way, he sodomised her to transfer the energy. Emilia was numb to any pain this caused. All she could feel was the raw spilling of his power, rapidly travelling through her veins and arteries, her bones. She could almost feel her hair and nails thrusting out with new growth as he pushed inside her. She could feel her flesh filling out. It took him some time to finish. Whether this was deliberate or not, Emilia couldn't tell. She did not stand up immediately once he withdrew, allowing him some time to rearrange his appearance. She'd nearly been burned before, looking at them too early. Othman was a tool to her; she felt completely pa.s.sionless about it.

Happy now?' he asked.

She stood up, rearranged her dress. Her vague reflection in the window seemed taller than she remembered. Very,' she answered.

Then I hope you'll be satisfied, for a while. I can't keep doing this, you must realise that. What I've just given you should be enough for now.'

At that point, she turned, and was delighted by the subtle s.h.i.+ft in Othman's expression. That, more than his words, told her he spoke the truth. He was surprised by his own magic. That's fine by me.' She smiled. But when you're tired of that sweet, innocent girl, and fancy something with a bit of bite, you know where to find me. And you know you'll need that eventually.'

Othman smiled thinly, but did not answer. He went out of the door without another word.

Emilia leaned against the table, her heart still pounding. She felt something trickle down her leg, and did not look for a moment, believing it must be his seed. When she did look, she saw blood. Her womanhood had come back to her, so quickly. Furtively, Emilia went upstairs.

Barbara was full of her news when she managed to way-lay Othman on the stairs of The White House. He could barely understand her babble, he felt so exhausted. Emilia Manden was like a sponge. It had been his own hurt pride which had prompted the method by which he'd given her energy, but in retrospect, it had been a stupid choice. He'd given too much of himself.

Are you all right?' Barbara asked. You look ill.'

Bit of a hangover, I think,' he answered. Not used to drinking that much.'

Oh dear! Perhaps you'd better have a lie down before dinner.'

Yes,' Othman replied weakly.

He went directly to his room and lay sprawled on the bed, his head throbbing with pain in time to his heart beat. All he'd acquired from covertly supping from Owen and Daniel's lovemaking had been taken away again. Some of it he'd given to Lily, with the intention of gently awakening her latent qualities. The rest had been sucked out of him by Emilia. It was a pity Owen was so suspicious of him, otherwise he could simply have asked the boy outright to help him replenish his strength. Soon, he would have to cultivate Owen's trust, but tonight, he felt too tired. Sleep was in order, nothing else.

As he drifted between sleep and wakefulness, he thought about the dream Lily had related to him. He did not want to think about it, but forced himself to confront the issue. It was a mystery to him why she should dream of Shemyaza so vividly, but he did not like it. Perhaps racial memories were beginning to surface in her mind since one of her own kind had come into her life, but if so, she must not realise it yet. As she'd spoken, with such innocent enthusiasm, about all that she'd seen, Othman had wanted to take her hands and explain her dream to her. He knew that in her mind she had visited the Garden in Eden. Ninlil, remembered as a G.o.ddess, had been one of its main administrators. It was clear that Lily's dream had eavesdropped on a crucial time in Anannage history. Why? Why had her sleeping psyche been drawn to that particular scene? Did it reflect exactly what had happened? Had that conversation between Ninlil and Shemyaza really taken place all that time ago? Shemyaza had broken the laws of his people, and had been punished for it. Othman was not blind to the parallels that could be drawn with his own life. Before he died, Shemyaza had influenced many others, ultimately causing the rebellion among the Anannage, which had divided and scattered its people. Unlike Othman, however, Shemyaza had been influenced by love - or so it was remembered. The human maiden Ishtahar, conniving priestess or bewitched devotee, had seduced Shemyaza's knowledge from him, and in return he had pa.s.sed Anannage secrets to her. She, and others like her, had subsequently borne the children of their rebel Anannage lovers. Over the centuries, those children had become a hidden race amongst humanity. Grigori.

And I am one of them,' Othman said aloud to the empty room, imagining Lily's face before him.

One day, he might tell Lily everything, but not yet. Once he was sure about what power remained in Little Moor, and what he could do with it, he would think about enlightening the Winter twins concerning their origins. He wasn't sure how they'd take it. Disbelief at first, of course, but Lily, with her romantic tendencies would eventually accept it. Owen? Difficult to predict his reaction. Perhaps, if Lily continued to dream of the Garden and her ancestors, it might help with convincing Owen. Othman wondered again whether there was a message for himself in Lily's dream. All his life, the legend of Shemyaza and Ishtahar had been a story he'd shrunk from reading or discussing, even during his education as a child. Something about the myth made him feel uneasy, the idea of the Hanged Man was sickening to him. Shemyaza had been punished for loving a human woman and for divulging secrets to her. Othman thought, uncomfortably, of Emilia. Perhaps caution was called for in dealing with her. Othman never dismissed omens or portents out of hand.

Now, as he lay drifting between sleep and wakefulness, he felt a familiar contraction start up in his belly. The compulsion to act was building up inside him again, to find the gate, to open it. Fragmented images of invocation and summoning, the offering of human flesh, raced before his mind's eye like wisps of smoke or cloud. In this hypnagogic state, his mind began to string information together and encountered the thought that the gate he yearned to breach might be the stargate Orion, the famous gate of Grigori myth, where the dreaded Shemyaza hung, his soul-face burned beyond recognition, his etheric body twisted and deformed. But as soon as the thought was encountered, Othman's conscious mind blocked it, as if turning him away from the scene of a hideous accident, where bodies lay dismembered and howls of lamentation filled the air.

Barbara worried when Othman missed dinner, and brought a tray up to his room. Othman sought to allay her fears; the mention of calling a doctor unnerved him. I'll be fine tomorrow,' he told her.

The night was calm, its atmosphere unrippled by any thought or desire. Owen and Lily slept in their separate beds, having their separate dreams.

Verity Cranton slumbered, with Raven curled innocently over her feet.

Daniel lit a candle before he went to bed and stared at its s.h.i.+vering flame. He'd felt tired all day, which had helped to back up his story of feeling ill and missing school. Earlier, he had yearned for Owen to be there beside him, regretting the reticence of their embraces, wis.h.i.+ng he'd had the confidence to ask for more, to take more. Now, he felt at peace, sensually drowsy and comfortable in his bed and in his skin.

Barbara and Barney Eager slept side by side, not touching. Barbara did not dream of forbidden lovers. She dreamed of summer time, and vast meadows.

The only person who slept uneasily was Eva Manden. She was still in shock. After shutting up the shop at five-thirty, she had gone back into the house. The sight that had greeted her in the kitchen was one she would never forget. At first, she'd thought a stranger had invaded the house, for a slim, elegant female figure stood at the sink, her back to the door, apparently engaged in peeling some potatoes. She was wearing a floral printed summer dress, her legs and feet bare. For one dreadful, heart-stopping moment, Eva had thought it was Helen Winter, but that was ridiculous for Helen was dead, and this woman's hair was dark, not pale.

Excuse me?' Eva began, and the woman turned. Even then realisation hadn't hit her, not even when the stranger had said, Evie dear, go and sit down. I'll get dinner ready.' The woman's dark, chestnut hair fell over her shoulders in abundant s.h.i.+ning waves. She wore no makeup on her fine-boned face other than very red lipstick, which accentuated her generous mouth.

Who...?' Eva began, but the words died in her throat.

Evie, can't you see? I'm feeling so much better.' The woman held out her hands, one of which still clutched a potato peeler.

Mother,' said Eva, feeling her way into one of the kitchen chairs, her eyes bulging. She dared not look away from the vision at the sink.

That's right, dear. What is the matter with you? You look like you've seen a ghost!' Emilia laughed and turned back to her peeling.

What's happened?' Eva asked in a hoa.r.s.e voice.

I would have thought you could work that out for yourself, dear. Would you like chops or a pie?'

Who's done this?' Eva demanded. Who? Are they back? Are they?'

Emilia looked over her shoulder, swung her hair. Calm down, dear. You sound hysterical. I must say you pay very little attention to what goes on around here, but that doesn't really surprise me. The Murkasters haven't returned, no, but a relation of theirs has. Peverel Othman.'

The name meant little to Eva, who had deliberately been excluded from village gossip concerning the traveller, at the insistence of her mother. All still obeyed the words of Emilia Manden. At one time, she had held the whip for the Murkasters in Little Moor.

Eva had begun to shake. This is an abomination,' she said. I know what you really look like. This isn't real!'

Emilia merely laughed. Then her face set into a harder expression and she came towards the table, leaned upon it on stiff arms. Eva cowered back in her chair. My dear,' said Emilia. Take a good look. This is what I'm really like, what I've always been like. I'm just lucky because I've found a way around the injustice, the f.u.c.king unbelievable injustice, of nature. You think the decaying body was me? You think the sagging t.i.ts, the slab shanks, the dried up old c.u.n.t, was me? No. This is me. And it's the same for every G.o.d-d.a.m.n ancient bint in the world, whatever nature's done to them. Just remember that.'

Mother and daughter stared at one another in silence. Eva was speechless. She felt she could sense her own blood drying in her veins, her own flesh desiccating. This woman before her looked at least twenty years her junior. Emilia reached out with the potato peeler, gently touched the end of her daughter's nose with it, smiled sweetly. Chops, I think,' she said. I just fancy some red meat.'

Chapter Seventeen.

Friday 23rd October, High Crag House, Cornwall The day had closed in upon itself, shrouds of dark surrounded High Crag House. After their talk had ended in his office, Enniel had escorted Aninka to one of the smaller dining rooms for dinner. They dined alone. Soft candlelight bloomed above the polished table and caught the inner spark in the lead crystal goblets set before each plate. A fire burned in the hearth behind Aninka's chair. She felt drained and drowsy. The meal had been consumed, punctuated only by small talk. Enniel had poured rich, red wine into Aninka's goblet whenever she'd drunk more than half of it. She felt warm towards her guardian now. He had surprised her with his tenderness and sympathy. He offered her a cigarette and lit it for her. She watched him carefully as she leaned forward to the flame he offered her. He was a supremely handsome example of his kind. Only now could she see him as a man and not just a surrogate parent. She thought that if he asked to sleep with her tonight, she would comply. However, she also knew that any such suggestion would have to come from her. Perhaps it would be healing for her if she attempted a seduction, and imprinted another man's hands over the memory of Othman's touch.

Is Noah right?' she asked, exhaling a plume of smoke.

Enniel leaned back in his chair, his eyes cautious. He clearly hadn't expected Aninka to raise the subject of her torment again tonight. About what, exactly?'

Aninka rested her chin on one hand. That you'll just cover things up, cement over the cracks and forget about what happened in Cresterfield.'

Enniel shook his head. No, all efforts will be made to track Othman down. Noah is only right in that usually Anakim are long gone by the time their delinquencies are made public. And they are difficult to pursue, because, as your cousin correctly pointed out, they are generally mature and experienced individuals. That does not mean, however, that we won't catch him.'

What will happen to him if you do?'

Enniel smiled. That depends on whether he's alive or not. If he is, we shall attempt rehabilitation. If that fails, and the success rate is not high, he will be incarcerated until this life-span has run its course. It is not in our codes to kill our own kind, Aninka. Once, in the distant past, we were forced to, when the Anannage turned brother against brother in a futile attempt to annihilate our race, but it won't happen again.'

Aninka sighed. Great Shem, not more of that old hogwas.h.!.+ I'm sick of people living in the past. It's over, and has been over for thousands of years. It has no bearing on the present.'

Enniel refused to rise to her bait. You are young,' he answered. As you grow older, all "that old hogwash", as you refer to it, will mean more to you. We are still living it, Aninka, because it is a story that never ended. We are responsible for the way that the world works now: its science, its religions, even its wars. We were exiled from the source, the One, the place of our origin. The gate closed for us. But some foolish Grigori recklessly attempt to claw it open again. Now do you see why what you experienced in Cresterfield is important to us?'

Aninka frowned. I'm not sure exactly what happened there. I knew Othman was attempting to call something... horrible up, but why? I can't understand why Serafina and the others had to die. I thought at the time it was just an excuse for an orgy, but then...' She shook her head, grimacing. I realise now Pev's intention was always more than just s.e.x.'

Enniel regarded her steadily for a few moments. In his heart he was considering just how much he should tell Aninka. He could see her pain permeating the colours of her aura, dampening its glow. Well, I think we can a.s.sume that Othman has undoubtedly tried that trick many times before.'

What trick?'

The conjuration. I think his motive is a l.u.s.t for power. Perhaps he senses, subliminally, that accessing the stargate would help him. The gate is sealed and he calls up demonic presences to do his work for him, in an attempt to open the gate once more. But force of that kind will never succeed. Othman failed in Cresterfield, as he has undoubtedly failed before. I believe that he will continue to a.s.sault the gate in this way, and that his methods will never be successful. It's possible that his actions are for the most part unconscious. If not, he would have worked out for himself by now that his techniques are wrong. He offered Serafina's life-force and the power of her s.e.xual energy to a demon, which was clearly accepted as delicious sustenance. Presumably, in payment for this feast, the demon was supposed to act as a psychic battering ram against the stargate. Unfortunately, it appears that the ent.i.ty not only failed or refused to carry out this task, but devoured the life-force of every other human who was unlucky enough to be there! Of course, I can only guess at whether that was Othman's intention or not, but I'm pretty sure it was.'

Aninka narrowed her eyes at Enniel. You know a lot about his attempts at this kind of thing, don't you?'

Enniel shrugged. Let's just say we've found evidence of this type of activity before, and events suggested the same person was behind it. But we had not connected it with Peverel Othman before you gave us your information. Now that we know exactly what's going on, we must put a stop to it.'

Aninka stubbed out the cigarette angrily. I want to help,' she said. I want to find him.'

You feel humiliated and extremely hurt,' Enniel said smoothly. That's understandable. Grief squeezes your soul. You want revenge, not just for what Othman did to the little people, but for what he's done to you. Think very hard, my dear, before embarking upon some heroic course. Your anger means nothing to a man like Peverel Othman.'

I don't care,' Aninka said. I can't just go back to my life and forget about this.'

Indeed not. I have found an apartment for you in London.'

That's not what I mean!'

Enniel shook his head, gently smiling at her. Aninka, I have been forced to donate a sizeable amount of priceless family relics to the museum in Cresterfield, as part of the deal for getting you out of this mess. They will probably end up in private collections in South America, without ever being appreciated by the public eye over here. I'm not blaming you, but your inexperience allowed you to get involved with Othman. Do you really think you're capable of bringing him down?'

He would never have targeted a mature Grigori,' Aninka said. I don't even blame myself for getting involved. And I don't know whether I'm capable or not of dealing with Othman. I just want to try.'

You are very precious to me, my dear. I would hate for you to be hurt.'

She looked at her guardian. He was still smiling. You knew I'd say these things, didn't you?'

Of course. It's quite natural, and you are a creature of spirit. Proud, I should say.' He leaned towards her across the table, reaching for her hand that lay there. This renegade, who has offended you so badly, is not unknown to us, but then you guessed that.'

Aninka ran her thumb along Enniel's palm. So what else can you tell me about him?' She dared to hope a bottle of wine had loosened her guardian's tongue.

Well, as I said, his activities have come to our attention before, but nothing quite so unpleasant as the Cresterfield incident. Peverel Othman, just one of many aliases of course, was first noticed about two years ago when he lived in Europe. He came to England about twelve months ago, leaving a devastation of wrecked lives behind him. Once here, he started dabbling. He covers his tracks well, but usually he targets the most influential people: politicians, celebrities. The motive appeared to be money. He earned his living by corruption. Until recently, we had not connected his operations with the evidence that had been found relating to demonic sacrifice. I suspect he's gone for small fry often in the past to consummate his unsavoury urges, but masked his behaviour with his more overt and relatively less destructive games with the rich and famous. His operations are generally more subtle than this - he has, for example, never been connected with murder before. Not directly. In fact, he has been a shadowy presence, hovering on the edge of our perceptions for quite some time. We have kept an eye on him, but also kept our distance. Maybe he has gone completely berserker now. I cannot say.'

Aninka was stunned. Haven't you called him to you, spoken to him? You just let him get on with whatever he was doing?'

Othman has been interviewed by members of the Parzupheim in the past, but it was a long time ago. He was warned not to threaten our security. He never did.' Enniel leaned back again, releasing her hand. It is not our function to worry about humanity, Aninka. They are a nuisance we have to live with and co-operate with, to a large degree. You are upset because your human friends have been killed, but that really is no concern of ours. Yes, we must now try and entrap Peverel Othman, but for our own safety. He could be capable of anything. Just don't mistake our motives.'

Aninka smiled, too weary to be angry of the way Enniel spoke about her dead friends. He could never understand her feelings. You talk like him, you know. In your position, he would say the same, I'm sure.'

Enniel pulled a wry face, shrugged. Oh dear. I'm not sure what that says about me! We're investigating his movements in Europe now.'

You'll find his ex-lover over there?'

Enniel raised one eyebrow. You are interested in that, of course.'

Aninka ducked her head. Well, yes. I'd like to meet him.'

What's left of him.'

Who is it?' Aninka demanded. You know who it is, don't you, or how else would you know what condition he's in?'

Enniel gestured with one hand. Conjecture, my dear. I'm simply looking at the state of you now and taking a wild guess.'

There's plenty left of me!' Aninka said, and smiled. When she spoke, the suggestion in her voice was plain. Would you like to find out how much?'

Enniel considered this offer. Very much so. I'm surprised, Ninka. I thought you disliked me.'

Well, I've grown up,' she replied. I've caught up with you, somewhat. When I was a child, you were nothing more to me than the voice of authority. Now, I can see you're an attractive man. Have you had the others, Noah, Tearah and Rachel?'

Enniel rolled his eyes. Don't make me sound greedy. Do you really need to know?'

Aninka stood up. No. Can we go upstairs now?'

Enniel took her to his grand bedroom, with its crimson and violet tapestries, its stained gla.s.s windows, hidden by thick, blue velvet drapes. The bed was enormous, like the bed of a king, decorated with carved peac.o.c.ks. Here, Enniel performed one of his functions as head of the family. He was bound to submit to whomever wanted him, the giver of seed and of life and warmth. Aninka's parents had given her to him to raise, because he was respected and would ensure a suitable future for her. She had not seen them since she was a baby, and could not remember them. This was not unusual among the Grigori. Now, as she lay naked on Enniel's bed, she thought about them. No doubt they would have expected this to happen several years before. It had been Aninka who resisted. She had not asked and Enniel would never have offered. It was not part of his duty to do that.