The end of the millennium approached, heralding a time of great changes. The soul of Shemyaza had returned to the earth, his consciousness thrust into the body of a Grigori maverick named Peverel Othman. Shemyaza could not remember much of Othman’s life, but enough to know he had committed atrocities against human beings and Grigori alike. He had wandered into a village named Little Moor, and there had discovered the hybrid Winter twins, in whose veins ran Grigori blood, although they had not known it. Their father, Kashday Murkaster, had been driven from Little Moor nearly twenty years previously by the Parzupheim, who were the governing body of the Grigori. Kashday had been a rebel, and had used a human woman — the twins’ mother Helen — to enact forbidden rituals. Othman, discovering this rotting nest of past Grigori activity in the village, had sought to reproduce Kashday’s dark work. He had coerced the Winters into helping him and had rejuvenated one of Kashday’s elderly, human helpers — Emma Manden — so that she could assist him. Then there was Daniel, a boy unaware of his psychic powers. Othman had been prepared to sacrifice him to achieve his aims. Othman’s schemes, however, had failed. The only result of his activities in Little Moor was that he remembered who and what he really was. Shemyaza had awoken after a sleep of millennia among the silence of the stars. Daniel had become his vizier.
Daniel, where was Daniel? Shemyaza blinked at the ceiling, watched a single fly circle the electric light. What had happened after Little Moor? What was he doing here in this house?
Reconstituting fragments of memory, he recalled being discovered by the Grigori. He had been taken to Cornwall. He remembered how resentful he’d been of the role that had been thrust upon him there. The Grigori had wanted him to be their Divine King, who would lead them into the new millennium and help reclaim their lost heritage. In the distant past, Shemyaza had dared to rebel against his superiors, had tried to initiate change in the world. But it had been so long ago. Shemyaza had no interest now in the power struggles of his people. However, the events that had taken place in Cornwall had changed him. Almost against his instincts, he had reclaimed his kingship, if not his kingdom. He had entered the underworld of Albion’s soul, and there had awoken a slumbering serpent power, emplaced thousands of years before by the first Grigori who’d made land-fall in England. Soon after he’d emerged from the underworld, his mind had retreated in upon itself; perhaps to recuperate or else to forget. Why had he slept for so long?
Salamiel’s return broke his reverie. Shem studied him as he approached the bed, carrying a tray. Salamiel too was a survivor of the ancient conflict. Like Shem, he had transgressed the laws of his people and taken a human lover. For thousands of years, he’d lain buried in a tomb, only to be resuscitated the Grigori adept, Sofia, who had sought to gain control of Shem’s power in Cornwall. Sofia’s plans had failed, but her greed had reunited the erstwhile Watcher rebels. Shem knew that others must also have survived, or still lay sleeping somewhere. They must be found.
Shem’s mouth filled with saliva at the sight of thick white sandwiches, heaped on a plate on Salamiel’s tray. He realised how hungry he was.
Salamiel sat down on the bed again to watch Shem eat. His dark orange eyes were shadowed with concern, almost as if he feared Shemyaza might lapse back into a waking sleep at any moment. ‘So, what exactly do you remember, Shem?’
‘The beach,’ Shem said, biting into the soft bread. ‘Cornwall.’ He looked up at Salamiel again. ‘Where are we?’
‘Nowhere very exotic, I’m afraid. This is a house in the Midlands. A friend of Enniel Prussoe’s owns it.’
Enniel Prussoe. The name conjured more recollections. Enniel was a Grigori patriarch, a member of the Parzupheim, an organisation that governed Grigori affairs. The Prussoe house, High Crag, had been both Shem’s prison and refuge during the time he’d been in Cornwall. He remembered the wildness of the dark winter seascape of The Lizard: the cry of buzzards, the lashing of raging waves against wet serpentine rock. It had been so cold there. Now, it was summertime. ‘How long?’ Shem repeated. ‘Months?’
Salamiel stood up. ‘You haven’t been asleep exactly. You’ve been able to feed yourself, bathe yourself, but…’ He turned to the window. ‘You haven’t been with us, Shem. Not for a long time.’
‘Why?’
Salamiel shook his head. ‘We’re not sure. Your experiences in Cornwall exhausted you, clearly. Perhaps you needed time to recover, and to assimilate what happened to you there.’
Shem swung his legs over the side of the bed, wondering whether he’d feel dizzy, but it seemed his body, if not his mind, was used to movement.
Salamiel handed him a towelling robe. ‘You haven’t been with us for over five years,’ he said.
Shem thrust his arms into the robe. It took a few moments for the information to hit him. Then he had to sit down again. ‘Five years? Unconscious?’
Salamiel nodded. ‘Well, in a way.’
‘They did something to me. Enniel and his cronies.’
‘No, Shem. Shortly after you woke the Serpent, you became listless. Enniel had physicians look you over, but there was no explanation. We came here, for you to recuperate. We knew you would be back with us soon. It is nearly time.’
‘For what?’
‘The new millennium. This is August, Shem. August 1999.’
‘Where’s Daniel?’
‘In Cornwall with the Prussoes. He’s gone to observe the solar eclipse with them.’ Salamiel glanced out of the window. ‘It must have begun some minutes ago. The best place to view it is The Lizard.’
‘Bring him back,’ Shem said. ‘I need my vizier by me.’
Cornwall
Daniel Cranton had wandered away from High Crag, seeking solitude. It had been five years since he’d walked this cliff path, high above the beach. The last time he’d been there had been as Shemyaza’s vizier, his eyes in the unseen, spiritual world. It all seemed so unreal now. Since Shem’s collapse, Daniel had lived a fairly mundane life with Salamiel up in the Midlands, watching and waiting for Shemyaza to look at him once more with intelligence in his eyes. A couple of times a year, Daniel had come down to Cornwall, to stay with Lily and Owen Winter, in the cottage that Enniel Prussoe had given to them, but the holidays had not been easy. Too much had changed between them all. Once, they’d been three teenagers leading aimless existences in a small, English village. Then Peverel Othman had invaded their lives, turned them upside down. The twins and Daniel had been instrumental in awakening Shemyaza’s true being. Like many human dependants of the Grigori, Daniel had been granted an extended life-span, but that miraculous gift had not changed his essential humanity. Lily and Owen had eagerly embraced the Grigori half of their ancestry; a gulf had opened up between Daniel and the twins. At one time, Daniel and Owen had been lovers, but now because of past rancour, all engendered by Othman, they tended to avoid one another. As for Lily, the carefree and rather wild young woman Daniel had loved seemed to have vanished for ever. Since she’d become a mother, she was too engrossed in her daughter to be much of a confidante to Daniel.
All along the coast, people were gathering to watch the impending solar eclipse, which had been heralded madly in the press for months. The best place to view in the UK would be The Lizard, so it seemed that every New Ager and astronomy buff in the country had gathered there, as well as hordes of ordinary people who just wanted to see an unusual astronomical event. Throughout the county, hotels and guest-houses were charging up to five times the normal rates for the week and some roads had been closed off. Anticipation buzzed in the air. Sad that the sky was so overcast. It was doubtful there’d be much to see.
Daniel had had to negotiate the buzzing crowds to find an empty path. So far, among the ordinary people, he had identified gatherings of UFO enthusiasts, Japanese Shinto devotees, Wiccans and Christians, as well as more obscure groups he could not name. Mixed in with the colourful clothes of casual sight-seers were the saffron robes of the followers of Krishna, who were handing out leaflets. Evangelist
types in semi-military uniforms sang bright, marching songs, eyeing the other groups present with jittery distaste. It seemed every belief system, religious and otherwise, was represented, all convinced the eclipse was some kind of significant, if not spiritual, event. It was a build up to the New Year. Some people believed that whatever circumstances you were in this day would be fixed until 1999 rolled over into 2000. For that reason, perhaps, the crowds were determined to have a good time, whatever the weather. Daniel knew this was an important event, but was cynically amused by the millennium madness he sensed around him. This would be but a feeble foretaste for the hysteria that would erupt on New Year’s Eve.
In a field, some yards back from the cliff edge, a group of eminent astronomers had set up complex equipment amid a sea of tents. The large outside broadcast vans of TV companies clustered like beetles around them. Anchor men and women were thrusting themselves upon anyone who was prepared to talk about what the coming event meant to them, but not one of them had approached Daniel. He had made sure he projected an aura that would discourage forced introductions. A faint skirl of music shivered through the air — violins and hand-drums — as New Agers danced to greet the darkening of the sun. Daniel felt remote from it all.
When Shem had awoken the serpent, Daniel had been convinced the world as he knew it would change. He’d expected new levels of tolerance and compassion, some kind of human epiphany. Where was it? The news was still full of the abominations of juvenile crime, international corruption, senseless massacres and rising despair. Had Shem’s spiritual journey been for nothing? Daniel felt depressed by the scene around him. Who were these people kidding? Just themselves.
The Prussoes, and probably his old friend, Emma Manden’s coven of Pelleth witches, would undoubtedly already be gathering on the cliff above Mermaid’s Cove, which was the private beach to High Crag, Enniel’s home. Daniel knew he should try and muster some energy, plaster a smile across his face and go back to the house. He should make an effort to greet his friends and join in with the party spirit, but his mood was too melancholy for festivities. Shem should be here. Things should be different.
Daniel sat down on the grass and closed his eyes. Do I really want him to come back? He shivered in the humid air. Life was quiet now. Perhaps it would be better to keep it that way.
A noise behind him made him open his eyes and glance round in irritation. A new crowd of sight-seers was strolling towards him, and he could see many more approaching. Clearly, they’d spotted the unpopulated area of cliff top and aimed to change the situation. The slam of car doors and the shriek of children offended Daniel’s ears. Before anyone could touch the periphery of his aura, he was on his feet and heading back to High Crag.
The Prussoes, an extended family in the literal sense of the word, were still wandering out from the house to gather at the cliff edge, above their private cove. High Crag loomed above them, its tall chimneys stark against the summer sky. As well as the Prussoes, prominent members of other Grigori families had gathered to watch the event. Quite a crowd were milling around on the cliff top, sampling the refreshments being handed out by Enniel’s household staff.
Daniel found Enniel, standing apart from the main group, examining the sight-seers further down the cliff through a pair of high power binoculars. Dark red hair blew free around his head, and his clothes, for Enniel, were casual. Somehow he didn’t look right in T-shirt and jeans. His long, handsome face was set in a disapproving expression. Daniel smiled privately as he approached.
‘Tch!’ Enniel complained. ‘Just look at them. Sheep!’ Enniel was not known for his tolerance of humankind.
‘The flotsam of humanity gathers on your sacred ground,’ Daniel said, unable to keep a sharp tone from his voice.
Enniel lowered the binoculars, cast an unreadable eye over Daniel. ‘A predictable turn of events.’
Daniel shrugged, hands in pockets. He felt that Enniel still disapproved of his position as Shemyaza’s vizier. Even though he had been granted the privilege of an extended life-span, he was still, to most Grigori, an upstart human aspiring above his station in life.
One of the Prussoe aunts was distributing smoked glass screens to the family – obviously in the hope that the sky would clear — and swooped up with a sycophantic smile for Enniel. Her name was Kharael, a tall, spindly woman dressed in the faded garments of an earlier age. She seemed to notice Daniel as an afterthought. ‘You haven’t been down here for a while, Daniel.’ She pushed a glass into his hands.
He smiled wanly. ‘No.’
‘Daniel’s kept busy up north,’ Enniel remarked dryly, a reference to Daniel’s day job in a supermarket. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘Yeah, very,’ Daniel answered. To end the embarrassing discussion, he raised the glass to his eyes. While they’d been talking the eclipse had begun. The thick clouds had moved apart, to provide a brief glimpse of the phenomenon. Already the sun was being eaten away, gobbled up by a segment of dark. The sight conjured a roar from the crowd. Strange feelings conflicted within Daniel’s heart. Would something unusual happen? His body and mind felt taut, uneasy. The clouds slid back, hiding everything, but it was getting colder wasn’t it?
A hand touched Daniel’s shoulder, fingers curling around him. For a moment, his flesh crawled with dread.
‘Daniel, hi! I didn’t know you were here!’
He turned round to the smile of a tall young woman, who wore a long ethnic-print dress. Her red hair fell in thick waves over her shoulders. Relief. He had expected it to be Owen. ‘Hello, Lily. How are you?’ He glanced over her shoulder to see if her brother was around and was glad to see he was not. She was accompanied by her young daughter, Helen.
‘We’re fine,’ Lily said. ‘Hel, say hello to Daniel.’
The child murmured a greeting. Daniel narrowed his eyes. Helen had grown up quite a lot since the last time he’d seen her. She was very dark-skinned, a trait she had inherited from her dead father, Israel. Her dark eyes fixed on Daniel in a peculiarly adult expression. He did not warm to the knowing slant of her smile. Mentally, he shook himself. This was a Grigori child, and was bound to appear different from other children he’d met.
‘So,’ Lily began in a firm yet humorous tone, ‘why haven’t you come to the cottage?’
Daniel smiled uneasily. ‘Didn’t get down till late last night.’
Lily wrinkled her nose. ‘I suppose that will do as an excuse.’ She paused. ‘How’s Shem?’
‘The same.’
Lily pantomimed an exaggerated grin. ‘I feel like I shouldn’t ask.’ Her brow creased. ‘Are you OK, Dan?’
He forced a smile. ‘Sorry. I feel a bit weird today. Not very sociable.’
Lily nodded. They both watched Helen for a while, who had dropped her mother’s hand to squat down on the grass. At first, it looked as if she was innocently picking flowers, then Daniel noticed she was actually examining some kind of beetle.
‘I suppose being here brings back memories for you,’ Lily said. ‘And I doubt they’re good ones.’
‘Well, a little.’
Lily squeezed his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Dan. Listen, you will come over later, won’t you?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. OK.’
The clouds had drawn back again like theatre curtains to reveal another poignant image of the sun being devoured by darkness. As far as Daniel could see, light glimmered off the smoked glasses people held to their eyes. The light around the cliff-tops was altogether surreal. It felt like the end of the world. Daniel fought an urge to run back to High Crag and seek sanctuary in the shadows of the house. It was almost as if he might suddenly blip back in time and find himself waiting to discover whether Shem had survived his ordeal in the underworld or not: this time, the outcome might be different.
‘My God!’ Lily exclaimed beside him. ‘What’s that?’
A corona had now appeared around the sun, but something moved against it, a heaving, cloudy tide. Daniel squinted through his glass. ‘It’s moving...
looks like...’
‘Birds!’ Lily cried. ‘Thousands and thousands of little birds!’
They seemed to fly directly out of the dark sun, billowing down towards the earth as if caught in a solar wind. The air was filled with an eerie cheeping. ‘That’s incredible!’ Lily said. ‘Has the eclipse attracted them or something?’
Daniel shuddered. He could not help but look for omens in the phenomenon. Perhaps only he and Lily could see it. Then, shouts from further along cliff advertised that at least some people in the waiting crowds of devotees and sight-seers were also witnessing the event. Daniel turned his head to observe their reaction. Even from here, he could see that certain huddles of people were moving excitedly, pointing at the sky. One group stood apart, in a circle. They all held up what appeared to be short swords towards the eclipse. It was clear, however, that not everyone could see the birds.
‘What is it, Daniel?’ Lily asked. ‘What does it mean?’
The birds danced across the sky before them. Daniel searched for patterns in their curling formation, but saw none. ‘I don’t know. Could be a natural phenomenon.’
‘But it’s so weird.’
Daniel shrugged. ‘Should be just what people want, then.’ He didn’t want to look at the birds now; their cheeping sounded cruel, hysterical, and echoed through his head. Would they attack those who could see them on the cliff-top? He thought of pecked eyes and raised, bleeding arms. He felt sick, and had to drop the glass from his eyes, press the fingers of one hand against them. The sky had gone black, and a chill like that of the land of the dead gripped the world. Light had died. It was terrible, all wrong. Daniel could not bear to look up at the black disk, which would be like proof of the triumph of death.
‘Daniel!’ Lily cried.
Daniel dropped his hand. ‘It’s OK. I felt a bit…’ But Lily’s sharp word was not an indication of concern. She was gazing through her smoked glass at the eastern sky. ‘What the hell is that?’
Stealing Sacred Fire Page 3
