‘I was at Long Eden in the afternoon, on that last day. It was the eve of Lammas, and an important family ritual would take place that night in the temple on the island in the grounds. But it was to be no ordinary ritual. Kashday had an inkling, I think, that something was about to happen, because he sent some of his people up to the church. I was there in the garden when they came back with the effigy, wrapped in a black cloth. I went to him in the early evening, to see if I could find anything out. He was on the phone, talking quickly. I remember asking what was happening. I was afraid. He said, and I can recall this as clear as day, “Emmie, tonight is very important, but I’ve no idea how it will turn out yet. It may be that I’ll have to go away for a while, but don’t worry, I’ve been sorting things out. I want you to speak to all the dependants for me, reassure them.”
‘Of course, I was horrified. Kashday often went away, sometimes for a couple of years at a time, but there was a tone in his voice that day that spoke of endings. I panicked. The first thing I thought of, and I was right to do so, was that the Murkasters were running away from Little Moor, and that it would mean a death sentence for me, and my kind. I pleaded with him, begged him to take me with him. He said, “I don’t need to hear this, Emmie. I have problems of my own. Rest assured you will be provided for. The Murkasters do not abandon those who have helped them.”
Emma sighed deeply. ‘Of course, they did abandon us. That night, monsters came out of the sky. Lady Lilieth, your aunt, had already sent all the dependants back to the village for the night, apart from Helen, and we were instructed not to approach Long Eden. Everyone was terrified. We shut ourselves in our houses, and drew the curtains against the lights outside. We heard noises like great metal wheels turning in Heaven. We thought we heard cries. Rain came, and it was red, like beads of fire, or transparent blood. I lay awake that night, praying. Praying to the names they honoured, Anu, Ninlil, and him, of course, Shemyaza. “Great Lord, Hanging One, protect us,” I said. He did not listen.
‘In the morning, all was quiet. We were scared to go up to Long Eden, but everyone came to me, and I had to go. It was all so silent and still. I walked up the driveway, and the rest of them waited at the gates. I was terrified of what I might find, but there was no real sign of destruction. The house was not locked, and I went inside. I went from room to room, and the house was in shadow. All was dark. The sunlight was only outside. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, but then I came across a man in one of the offices. I thought he was Grigori at first, but if he was, he wasn’t a Murkaster. He looked up as if he’d been expecting me, and made me sit down. A solicitor. He spoke about trusts and funds, but I wasn’t interested. All I could ask was, “When will they come back?” He ignored this, and made me sign things. They knew, of course, that without them, we would lose our longevity, and the arrangements they’d made were for our care in senility and decay. Horrible! So callous. They knew...’ Here Emma paused and wiped her face with a single, stiff finger.
Lily reached out to touch her hand. ‘Oh, Emma, that was terrible.’
Emma shook herself, as if to rid herself of any contact with Lily. ‘Yes. It was. It took me twenty years to become what I was, a hideous hag, while all the time, inside me, I knew I was really like this. It was an abomination, and I will never forgive Kashday for it, but...’ She reached out quickly to touch Owen and Lily briefly. ‘I do not blame you, his children, for this. I trust you will help restore the past.’
Owen wondered whether Lily thought the same as he did: that there was an implicit threat behind Emma’s words. She did not blame them at the moment, no, but how would she feel if they were unable to fulfil her expectations? ‘We are descended from angels,’ he said, almost tonelessly. ‘We have stepped from reality into fantasy. It’s weird.’
‘The angels were a race called the Anannage,’ Emma said firmly. ‘As real as you or I. Primitive people ascribed their technology and mental abilities to magic. The Anannage were a race of flesh and blood, like us.’
‘But what happened to them?’ Lily said. ‘Everyone used to worship them, so they must have been visible about the world. How come they disappeared?’
Emma smiled. ‘Look between the lines of ancient books, my dear. The Anannage, like humanity, were not beyond political squabbling, power grabbing and lust. There is truth behind the legends of the fallen angels. Lust drove Shemyaza to betray his people and abuse his power. The experiments with humanity must have been carefully controlled, but he and his fellow conspirators, ruined everything by creating the Nefilim, the giants, the original half-breeds of Anannage and human. Nowadays, they prefer to call themselves Grigori, which I believe is a Greek rendition of Anannage. Originally, they were wild, uncontrollable, and cared nothing for discrete experimentation. Also, Shemyaza and the others freed humanity from the Anannage by giving them forbidden knowledge, how to use metals to make weapons being perhaps the most significant. It caused a war. The original Anannage were dispersed into the world, went into hiding, whereas the Grigori turned themselves into legends. Most myths of gods and heroes are fantastic elaborations of Grigori history. Kashday told me this. Much of the history is lost now. The events were recorded by men such as Zoroaster, Enoch and Moses, but through their human eyes and limited experience. Why do you think the chronology of the Bible states that people like Moses lived for hundreds of years? It was because the Grigori gave them longevity. But at some point, the Grigori withdrew their overt influence. Your people no doubt know why and when. But the history of the world might have been very different if it hadn’t been for the fallen ones, who changed everything. As to whether the great Shemyaza acted through altruism or self-interest, it’s impossible to say. Still, the Grigori look upon him as a god, even to this day. Well, we have to suppose some Grigori do.’ She frowned. ‘This, of course, might be one of the reasons why the Murkasters had to leave Little Moor. We have no idea how the Grigori feel about the Anannage, the past, or how they operate in the world now.’ She sighed. ‘I should talk to Othman further about this, now that I have my wits about me again. It is strange, very strange, what has happened to me. I feel like I’ve been a split personality, with this side of me held back by the senile stubbornness of Emilia. Now Emilia is dead, thank Shem.’
Owen couldn’t help feeling that some of the unpredictable moods of Emilia still remained. He felt reluctant to trust Emma completely. ‘We still don’t know exactly why the Murkasters left,’ he said. ‘You’ve already said they worshipped Shemyaza, who was seen as a traitor by the original Anannage. If there are other Grigori around, they might see the Murkasters as traitors, too, and by default, us. They might be a danger to us.’
‘That is one reason why we have to use Othman,’ Emma said quickly. ‘We mustn’t let him become aware of how much you know at the moment. Let him believe he holds all the cards.’
‘But Othman is an unknown quantity,’ Owen said, ‘and possibly dangerous.’
‘I wish Kashday would come back!’ Lily said. ‘If only we could find him!’
‘I wouldn’t put much hope in that,’ Emma replied. ‘We have each other, and there are at least fifteen other Grigori dependants remaining in Little Moor. We must persuade Othman to rejuvenate them eventually, and help you bring out your own Grigori abilities, assuming you have them. However, my instincts tell me you have, at least to a degree.’ Again, she touched Lily and Owen briefly. ‘The dependants will be your people, and will help you. Our main problem is that there are so many outsiders in Little Moor now. We will need to control them, or drive them away without attracting attention to ourselves. This, I feel, will be a major task.’
Owen shuddered inside. His imagination offered unsavoury images. If Emma took control, he felt he and Lily would have little power of their own. Also, the problems she spoke of would undoubtedly be harder to deal with in reality than she imagined. Emma was still partly Emilia, who lived in an earlier time. The world had changed a lot in twenty years. It was now more difficult to conceal things,
and to maintain isolation from the outside world.
‘Tonight, we will visit Long Eden,’ Emma said.
‘What about Pev?’ Lily asked. ‘Do you think he’ll come here again today? Shall we take him with us?’
Emma shook her head adamantly. ‘Certainly not! He might come sniffing around today. Owen, you must forestall him. It will be safe, I think, to tell him about Daniel’s visions. He will be intrigued, and might suppose he could use Daniel to gain entrance to the house. I feel it’s important that you two achieve that first, stake your claim.’ She frowned. ‘Somehow, we’re going to have to keep Othman away from Long Eden tonight, and the only obvious way is for one of us to keep him occupied.’ She pulled a sour face. ‘I suppose that will have to be me. You two must go to the house and try to get inside. Do this by psychic means if necessary.’
‘How?’ Lily said.
Emma seemed impatient with their lack of experience in these matters. ‘Sit down outside the house, and visualise going inside. Long Eden has its own spirit of protection. I’m convinced that it will recognise you and speak to you through images. If we’re lucky, you’ll even find a way to enter the house physically.’
‘And if we can, what should we do then?’ Lily asked.
‘Nothing. Just do it. You need to make your presence felt. Leave the rest to me.’ Emma stood up. ‘Now, I’ll get off, and see whether I can track Othman down. We must act quickly.’
After Emma had left, Owen and Lily stared at one another across the table. ‘Are you scared?’ Lily asked.
Owen nodded. ‘Shitless. Is this real, Lil?’
She smiled. ‘I think so. Don’t you feel that it is?’
Owen exhaled a shuddering sigh. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know. What time is it?’
Lily had to go into the parlour to find out. ‘Ten to three.’
‘Come on.’ Owen went to the door.
‘Where are we going?’ Lily followed him.
‘To pick Daniel up from school.’
Lily’s hand went nervously to her mouth. ‘Oh... Do I have to come?’
‘You know you do. We need him, Lil. Come on.’
Emma Manden walked up to The White House, only to discover that Othman was out. She presumed he must have gone to the old people’s day centre, and sat down with a coffee in the lounge of the hotel to wait for him. Barbara Eager walked past a few times more than seemed necessary, and Emma smiled at her politely. Eventually, Barbara could obviously contain her curiosity no longer and made a direct approach.
‘My receptionist, Shuni, tells me you’ve been asking for one of our guests. I’m afraid he’s not in at the moment. Is there anything I can do for you?’
Emma put down her cup. ‘No. I’m quite content to wait, thank you.’
She could see that Barbara was confused about where she’d come from. There was no evidence of luggage, a car, or even a coat, yet Emma was a stranger to her. ‘Will you be wanting a room?’
Emma grinned. ‘Oh, I doubt that!’ She let the implications hang.
Barbara stiffened and withdrew. Another hopeless convert, Emma thought.
By four o’clock, Othman had still not returned. Emma was worried he might have gone straight to the Winters, and considered returning to the cottage herself. Yet it might be unwise to let Othman know she had any contact with the twins. Restless, she went out into the fading sunlight, her senses twitching. She hoped Lily and Owen would have the sense to get rid of Othman as soon as possible should he turn up at their door. In the meantime, a discrete surveillance could not do any harm.
Emma was both surprised and relieved to find the cottage locked and empty, and the Winters’ car missing from the driveway. She didn’t feel that they had taken Othman with them, wherever they’d gone. Still, she suspected Othman had been there recently, hopefully after the twins had left the house. Following her instincts, Emma made her way to the gates of Long Eden. She could feel a tension in the air. He’d been there, all right.
After wriggling through the bars of the rusting gate, Emma proceeded cautiously up the drive. Her senses were alert for changes of atmosphere, for movements in the rustling shadows that lined the overgrown gravel. She was confident that things were being stirred up.
She found him in the yard behind the house. For a few moments, she hid in the shadows of the arch, wreathed in twilight. He was running his hands over the bricks of the scullery wall, touching the boarded glass of the windows. It won’t let you in, Emma thought, and was pleased by it. What are you, Peverel Othman? she wondered. More than Grigori somehow...
In the past, she’d have been able to unearth his secrets more quickly, but now, with her body and mind sapped and impoverished by the decay they had suffered, her intuitive faculties were yet to be completely restored. It would take time. Time and power. But Othman must not know that. He must believe she was utterly renewed.
‘Contemplating burglary?’ Emma enquired as she sauntered across the yard.
Othman jumped round, his expression of surprise at her appearance conjuring a laugh from Emma. ‘No more than you,’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Looking for you,’ she replied. She was close to him, and could have reached out and touched him, but restrained herself. Not yet. ‘How are your investigations progressing?’
‘As you can see, I’ve yet to penetrate the house.’
‘I was hoping you’d come to see me.’
‘Well, I’ve been busy.’
‘With the Winter twins?’
Othman gave her a beady stare, perhaps wondering how much she knew. ‘I have been visiting them, yes.’
‘When are you going to tell them about themselves?’
‘Soon. The girl’s no problem, but the boy is difficult.’ He paused. ‘He doesn’t trust me.’
‘How silly of him,’ said Emma, lighting a cigarette. She offered her case to Othman, who took one himself, leaning close to take the flame from her lighter.
He exhaled. ‘There’s another boy, too. He has strong psychic ability. He’s a friend of Owen’s.’
‘That must be Daniel Cranton,’ said Emma. ‘Psychic? How odd. He seems such an ordinary boy.’
She took Othman’s arm and began to lead him towards the arch. He resisted at first, then relented, clearly thinking there was little he could do at the house tonight. ‘Where are you taking me?’ he enquired, in a jovial voice.
‘To your room in The White House.’
‘Emilia, my dear, I hope you’re not planning to exhaust me again!’
She stopped walking, turned to face him. ‘I was thinking strictly of pleasure.’
He kissed her briefly. ‘I am relieved!’
Barbara was hovering in the hallway as Emma and Othman entered the hotel. She smiled tightly, her eyes homing in on the linked arms. ‘Will you both be having dinner here, this evening?’ she asked, unable to keep the blades from her voice.
Emma laughed and Othman politely declined. ‘Would it be possible to have a few sandwiches in my room? Of course, I shall pay extra for my friend.’
‘I’ll see,’ Barbara responded icily and swept through a door to the kitchen.
Othman and Emma went slowly up the stairs. ‘She is jealous,’ Emma said, pleased.
‘Probably, but not for long. I paid some attention to her crippled friend, Louis, on Friday night. She’ll soon have him to enjoy and will forget all about me!’
‘You are too thoughtful,’ said Emma. ‘Although I think you underestimate the effect you have on people.’
Barbara Eager was in a foul humour. She told herself this was not because Peverel Othman was upstairs in his room with a strange woman. No, it was because of the oppressive heat, the sickly odours of fruit baking on the trees and water congealing in pools around the village. Also, she had still not been able to contact Louis. The phone continued to be answered by the machine, and when she’d called round — twice — once the place had looked empty, locked up and in shadow, and on the second occasion, an unusu
ally vague Verity Cranton had almost stumbled from the garden, saying her father was ‘unwell’. Barbara had fired a barrage of questions at Verity, wondering if the girl knew about Othman’s visit on Friday night. Surely, Louis should be feeling well now, if what Othman had claimed was true? Or perhaps it was a part of the healing process that Louis should get worse before he got better. Whatever was happening, Barbara could barely contain her worry. She demanded to see Louis, which roused Verity from her torpor, prompting her to gloss over into her habitual icy, stiff reserve. ‘Dad doesn’t want any visitors. He’ll call you when he feels better. Please don’t worry. I’m looking after him.’
Rebuffed, Barbara could do nothing but leave. She would have to speak to Othman about Louis. Perhaps tomorrow as they drove to Larkington, supposing he didn’t shy off from the excursion because of his visitor, or worse, suggest she should accompany them.
In the bedroom, Emma took off her dress, and lounged on the duvet in a grey silk slip. Othman ordered wine, which presently arrived with the sandwiches, brought on a tray by Shuni Perks. Othman turned off all the lights, but for a single lamp beside the bed. The room was transformed from over-tidy, formality to something far more restful. Othman poured wine for himself and Emma, and handed her a glass.
‘You look like something from a Forties film,’ he said, with apparent approval.
Emma tossed her hair, soft shadows caught in the hollows of her throat and collar bones. ‘I enjoyed that decade. Did you?’
Othman shrugged. ‘I suppose so. Events tend to blur, don’t they.’ He flopped down beside her, inserted a finger between the warm strap of her slip and her flawless skin. ‘You are very beautiful. I feel quite pleased with my work.’
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