Scenting Hallowed Blood

by Storm Constantine

  ‘What do you think?’ Sofia asked him.

  He shrugged and looked at Daniel, who picked up the cue. ‘Seeing as Shem is here already, it does seem sensible that should he do anything, it might as well be in Cornwall. Perhaps we need to hear more.’ He did not want to tell them about his visions of the night before. Let them all think he lacked knowledge. Beneath the table, Shem pressed his thigh against Daniel’s own to signal his approval.

  Sofia expressed her gratitude with a narrow smile. ‘So, then, is everyone in agreement? The gate to the underworld lies here, and Shemyaza must enter it.’

  Most of the company nodded, although one or two still appeared truculent. Daniel glanced at Shem and wished he’d stir himself to ask at least a few of the questions.

  ‘What does that mean, in real terms?’ Daniel demanded. ‘You talk of power being left beneath the land and Shem having to awaken it. But can you explain to us exactly how he must do this? What will happen once the serpent is awake?’

  The Parzupheim still looked at him with stern disapproval. To them, he would remain an interloping concubine. Only Sofia smiled.

  ‘Beneath the land is a network of caverns and tunnels,’ she said. ‘Within them lies a deep, pulsing energy, or entity, which was planted there by our ancestors, who came from ancient Sumeria. It is known as the serpent power, or the Shamir, and it lies slumbering, protected by guardians. There are now twelve Grigori strongholds in the empire, and the Shamir is their legacy. They must be the ones to control it. The serpent has been dormant since the times of the Persian Magians, who are remembered as the druids. They maintained the sacred omphali and the energy matrix of the land.’

  Daniel wrinkled his nose. ‘Omphali? What’s that?’

  Sofia nodded. ‘Right. An omphalos is a sacred centre of a settlement or community. Humans tended to utilise or build structures around these natural fountains of life force, such as beacon fire hills, stone circles, stone quoits, standing stones, holy wells and springs, and in this millennium, churches and cathedrals.’

  Daniel nodded. ‘I see. Carry on.’

  Sofia directed a rather arch glance at him, then smiled and resumed her explanation. ‘Our ancestors set up a corridor of sacred sites — shrines, temples, henges, and other such structures — which ranges from the southernmost tip of Cornwall, up to the north-east reaches of Norfolk. At this point, other corridors join with it like a rail network, which stretches to all corners of the land, and across the sea to Ireland and the smaller isles. The sacred sites along these alignments were used as enhancers of ritual by shamans, druids, and early Christian mystics alike. Look upon the sites as the ancient equivalent of power stations. But with the fall of the druids, the power stations closed down. When the energy reawakens, all of these sites, which are like electrical appliances waiting to be plugged in, will come alive, empowered by the force. Ancient peoples believed that their survival was ensured if the sacred sites of a country were energised and used efficiently; the sick would be healed, crops would grow, communities would flourish and the seasons turn in their proper manner. Whoever controls the destiny of the omphali controls the destiny of the people who live around them.’ She looked at Shem. ‘The Grigori must have this control. Humans would not know how to use it and could cause only destruction.’

  ‘Why does Shemyaza have to be the one to awaken this energy?’ Daniel asked. ‘Why can’t any one of you do it?’

  ‘Because he is the divine king,’ Enniel replied. ‘Only he is worthy of the gaze of the serpent.’ The words fell like a prophecy into the room. Daniel felt Shem stir uncomfortably beside him.

  ‘And how will he do this? In trance or in actuality?’

  Enniel glanced around the table. ‘That is yet to be decided.’ Daniel noticed he shot one furtive glance at Sofia, perhaps suspecting the woman had already made up her mind about it. But she remained silent. Daniel wondered whether Shem had some subconscious inkling of what was required of him. The previous night’s vision of the sphinx was clearly connected with gaining access to the underworld and the serpent. Daniel knew that Shem would quite happily let his vizier take on the task rather than attend to it himself, but Daniel was unsure why. Was Shem lazy, afraid, indifferent, or simply lacking in confidence? Last night, he’d appeared to be ready to take action, assume responsibility, but now, he was making absolutely no contribution to the meeting, and appeared to be lost in his own thoughts. Daniel also sensed that, despite the Parzupheim’s outward appearances of arrogance and calm, they were nervous and wary of Shem, as if they feared he might leap from his chair at any moment and proclaim himself their king, or perhaps destroy them. They don’t know him, Daniel thought. In his opinion, Shem was still reeling from the transformation he’d undergone in Little Moor. He wondered himself whether Shem was capable of doing what the Parzupheim required of him.

  While the discussion took place around him, Shemyaza found his mind drifting. It was hard to concentrate on what was being said. Let Daniel deal with it; it was it his function after all. Shem stared at the stained-glass window ahead of him. He thought he could hear some faint, far-off music, the sound of a woman singing. Was it calling to him? He thought of Ishtahar, but dismissed it. He mustn’t think that way. It might weaken him. Last night, he’d almost convinced himself he would do whatever the Parzupheim required of him. But now he felt drained and listless, perhaps because of the energy he’d expended in bestowing longevity to Daniel. The talk around the table meant nothing to him. He wanted to leave the room, walk out into the gardens to feel the elements around him. The room was stifling him.

  ‘Shemyaza?’ The sharply spoken word sliced into his awareness.

  ‘What?’ He looked at Enniel, saw immediately that Enniel knew he’d been paying no attention.

  ‘We feel that you should undergo the ceremony of coronation. The land must recognise you as its spiritual king.’

  Shem laughed. ‘King?’ He looked at Daniel. ‘Did you hear that?’ Then he spread out his arms at the gathering. ‘Do I look like a king?’

  ‘It is merely a formality,’ Sofia said.

  ‘Rather more than that!’ Enniel snapped. ‘Shemyaza, it is your duty and your right. Take the peacock crown. It has always been yours.’

  ‘Your co-operation will make them very happy,’ Sofia drawled. Daniel noticed she excluded herself from the remark.

  ‘Crown Daniel,’ Shem said. ‘He will be your king.’

  ‘I think you fail to appreciate the solemnity of this offer,’ Enniel said, clearly having trouble controlling his voice. ‘Whatever his capabilities, Daniel cannot assume the mantle of the divine king. He is your vizier, but he is not you.’

  Daniel was astounded that Shem could have suggested such a thing. He recalled, uncomfortably, the ritual at the High Place in Little Moor, when Peverel Othman had offered him to a demon. Was this really any different? ‘Do it, Shem,’ he said.

  Shem raised an eyebrow at the sharpness of Daniel’s tone.

  ‘I believe your vizier has just advised you,’ one of the Parzupheim murmured, conjuring a ripple of soft remarks around the table.

  Shem shrugged. ‘All right, if I must.’

  Enniel seemed far from happy with his attitude. ‘We shall enact the ritual this evening.’ He glanced around the table. ‘Shall we break for refreshment now?’

  After the company had risen and spread out around the room, Austin led in a retinue of servants pushing trolleys laden with food and drink. Daniel stood with Shem and Enniel by the fire-place. He felt angry with Shem, and weirdly betrayed. Enniel tried to make conversation, but could elicit only monosyllables from Shem, and clearly thought it beneath him to try and talk to Daniel. When Sofia stalked over, he excused himself and went to attend to other guests. Sofia touched Shem on the arm, ‘You have ruffled their feathers.’

  Shem shrugged. ‘I find it hard to take all this seriously.’

  Sofia nodded and lowered her voice confidentially. ‘They are a stuffy lot, and rather too fond of p
omp and circumstance.’ She paused. ‘Why don’t the three of us go out into the garden for a reviving breath of air?’

  Outside, Sofia lit a cigarette and walked in silence. No-one wanted to speak, yet the lack of conversation was comfortable, rather than otherwise. Daniel still did not trust Sofia, but wondered whether he was being too harsh in his judgement. She alone seemed to appreciate how Shem felt, and was prepared to accept Daniel in the role where Shem had placed him. They walked to a gazebo, which was surrounded by dead rose-vines. Here, Sofia sat down upon a carved stone bench that might have come from the sands of Sumer. Daniel sat beside her, but Shem remained standing, staring out over the garden to the cliff-top.

  ‘Shemyaza, you really must put aside your impatience with the Parzupheim and oblige them,’ Sofia said, and took in a lungful of smoke. ‘They are your people, after all.’

  Shem glanced down at her. ‘I’m no fool. Don’t think I’m not aware that “divine king” equates with “sacrificial king”. I’ve had enough of that. I will not be a scapegoat.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right, but there are others who see you in quite a different light.’

  ‘Others?’ Daniel interrupted.

  Sofia looked at him askance. ‘Yes. The Parzupheim aren’t the only Grigori power-wielders in this country.’ She patted the seat beside her. ‘Shemyaza, please sit down. There is something I must tell you.’

  Shem hesitated a moment, then complied with her request. Daniel noticed that Sofia swallowed involuntarily as Shem’s body touched her.

  ‘Then tell me,’ Shem said.

  She nodded. ‘I’ll get straight to the point. The Parzupheim are relative small fry in the scheme of things. Tell me, if you had the choice, who would you be working with now?’

  ‘Daniel,’ Shem answered shortly.

  ‘Yes,’ Sofia said, ‘but who else, of your own blood?’

  Shem frowned out at the garden. ‘No-one.’

  ‘Not even your brothers?’

  Shem turned his head to look at her intently. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You are not the only one to survive,’ Sofia said. ‘I do not want the Parzupheim to know about it, but Salamiel is nearby. He is waiting for you, Shemyaza.’

  ‘Salamiel?’ Shem peered at her, his expression puzzled. ‘He is here?’

  Sofia nodded, clearly holding excitement in check. ‘Yes, very near. Like you, his consciousness has survived into this time. He awaits your command. Soon, if you are agreeable, I will take you to him, perhaps after this charade of a coronation has taken place.’

  Shem’s face had broken into a smile. ‘I would like to see him,’ he said.

  Daniel felt extremely on edge, and his mistrust of Sofia seethed back in full force. He was uncomfortable with the idea of Shem meeting with this person Sofia had secreted away. The name Salamiel meant nothing to him, but he was wary of it. ‘What about Shem’s work with the Parzupheim? Are you suggesting he do something else, without their sanction?”

  ‘My, you are jumping on ahead,’ Sofia said dryly. ‘Did I say any such thing?’

  ‘No,’ Daniel replied, ‘but the feeling’s there.’

  Sofia shrugged. ‘Actually, what the Parzupheim want is what I want, and what I want is the best for Shemyaza. It was I who suggested he should reawaken the Shamir. The only thing I’ve not seen fit to reveal to Enniel’s cronies is that Salamiel should also be involved.’

  ‘Why not?’ Daniel insisted. ‘Why can’t you tell them about this other person?’

  Sofia sighed. ‘It’s very complicated, Daniel. Politics, you know. If the Parzupheim thought that Shemyaza had allies, they’d worry that they wouldn’t be able to control him as efficiently.’

  ‘You don’t have that fear.’

  ‘No,’ Sofia said, grinding out her cigarette on the stone patio. ‘I don’t.’ She paused for a moment, clearly coming to a decision about something. ‘There is also another matter I’d like to mention. It should be of especial interest to you, Daniel.’

  ‘What?’ Daniel’s suspicions were engorged. He was frightened of being seduced by this woman into believing she had their welfare at heart.

  ‘Your friends, Lily and Owen Winter, are with Salamiel now. He is caring for them. We thought it best to keep them away from the hubbub here.’

  ‘That’s good news,’ Shem said.

  Daniel said nothing. He remembered the visions that had come to him in Taziel’s apartment, and their horrifying flight to Cornwall. He knew then, with utter conviction, that this Salamiel had been behind all that. Salamiel and Sofia. He would have to speak to Shem privately about this. How could he be taken in by this woman? Couldn’t he smell the danger? Realising some kind of response was appropriate, Daniel said, ‘Are they all right?’

  Sofia nodded enthusiastically. ‘Oh yes. Soon, we shall restore Owen for you, Daniel.’

  The implications were not lost on Daniel. Sofia hoped to distract him a little, prise him away from Shemyaza’s side, thus allowing herself freedom of access. She did underestimate him, but not as much as he’d thought. He tried to smile. ‘I’d like to see Lily and Owen very much. I’ve missed them.’

  Sofia touched his hair, and he had to force himself not to recoil. ‘I know you have! Don’t worry, everything will work out fine. It will just take a little time, that’s all.’

  When they returned to Enniel, Daniel was disturbed by the fact that Shem seemed more animated. Clearly, Sofia’s news had pleased him. He wondered whether his misgivings were caused only by jealousy, the revelation that someone who’d been close to Shem in the past had reappeared; someone who might possibly take on some of Daniel’s position. Had he become greedy and protective of his status and power? The thought did not please him. He knew that power was a corrupting force, and that Grigori power was more corrupting than most.

  Before dinner, Daniel wandered off into the house, ostensibly to look for Emma and let her know what was happening, but he knew in his heart he had to confront Taziel. He found Emma watching TV with Aninka in one of the drawing rooms. He was aware that Aninka was a close friend of Taziel’s and suspected she now harboured some hard feelings for him. His friend, ‘Eve’, seemed to have disappeared completely. When he asked her where Taziel was, she replied. ‘You’re too late. He’s upstairs, getting ready to leave. Lahash is driving him back to London. Perhaps it would be best if you just left him alone now.’

  Daniel offered no response, but went directly up to the room he had shared with Taziel. When he entered the room, Taziel was lying on the bed, wearing only a towel, his wet hair spread out around him. Daniel couldn’t help thinking it all looked too premeditated, as if Taziel had hoped he would come.

  ‘I hear you’re leaving,’ Daniel said. ‘I’m sorry if...’

  Before he could finish his apology, Taziel interrupted him. ‘I heard you scream. Was it pain or pleasure? Hard to tell which with that creature, isn’t it?’

  Daniel sighed. He didn’t want to argue. ‘It’s a shame if we have to part this way, Taz, but if that’s how you want it to be...’

  ‘You are full of him,’ Taziel said, ‘I can see his glow on you.’

  Daniel guessed Taziel wanted a full-scale row that could end in sex and reconciliation, but Daniel couldn’t be bothered. With only a curt ‘goodbye’, he left the room. The incident left him feeling depressed and uneasy, as if he’d closed the door on unfinished business, which might come back to haunt him one day.

  At 7.30 pm precisely, Austin rang the gong in the hallway of High Crag to announce that dinner was ready. Daniel had not had chance to speak to Shemyaza alone, which he suspected owed rather more to Enniel’s design than it appeared. Sofia had monopolised Daniel’s attention, quietly interrogating him about his life. He felt something brewing in the air, and found it difficult to eat. He found himself looking at faces that he’d never seen before; Prussoes who had emerged from the shadowy nooks of High Crag. Aninka picked at her meal, occasionally directing caustic glances at both Daniel and Shemyaza.
At one point, Shem, who was sitting opposite and a few places down the table from her, leaned across the silver-starred snowy linen and said, ‘Aninka, you look very beautiful.’

  Daniel thought Aninka would go berserk, stab Shem with her knife, hurl her wine over him, but she remained tight-lipped, if a little crimson along the cheekbones.

  Shem withdrew, apparently without having taken offence at her hostile silence. ‘Perhaps, one day, you will forgive me.’

  Daniel saw Emma, who was sitting next to Aninka, whisper something in her ear. Aninka smiled tightly at her plate and resumed eating.

  After dinner, Enniel took Shemyaza off somewhere, presumably to prepare for the ritual to come, while the Parzupheim, along with Sofia and Daniel made their way to a temple in the heart of the house. Sofia was quick to point out that this would not be the family temple, used for various religious celebrations and festivals. No, this was the Parzupheim’s domain, and used only rarely. Daniel assumed that when it was used, the land around the house must feel it. Only the most important rituals would take place there.

  A silent servant of Enniel’s ushered Daniel and Sofia through an enormous set of double doors. From here, they were conducted down the side of the darkened temple and up a curving wooden staircase, which led to a small gallery at the back of the hall. Here, they sat down upon hard wooden seats, and the servant departed. It was difficult to see through the fog of sandalwood incense, but Daniel could tell that the room was huge, perhaps three storeys high. The gallery was positioned about twelve feet from the ground. Sofia began to cough discreetly behind her hand, then shrugged and got out her cigarettes, whispering to Daniel that no-one could possibly notice she was smoking. It amused Daniel to see her flicking ash onto the floor of the gallery.

  The temple was magnificent, its atmosphere at once solemn and electric. Its floor was of dark, polished wood, into which had been laid a great circle of black and white tiles. The walls were covered in wooden panelling, and the room should have appeared large, plain and simple, a ballroom perhaps. However, what was contained within the unadorned wooden walls was something from a mad architect’s dream. It looked as if it belonged out in the open air, on some wild Far Eastern hilltop, or else hidden within the aromatic darkness of an ancient forest. Not here in a rugged labyrinth of a house in Cornwall.