Part 6 (1/2)

Without fear, Lily approached the beast and touched its warm flank, feeling its muscles shudder beneath her hand. She gripped the long, s.h.a.ggy hair on its shoulders and with natural ease, swung herself up on its back. The beast gave a great leap and rose high into the air. Lily's exhilaration was complete. She felt light streaming from her hair in sparks. The force of the night stars crashed through the tattooed eye on her belly and poured throughout her whole body. She felt herself growing hot with an ignition of l.u.s.t.

The beast circled the island and then shot off towards Herman's Wood, throwing an enormous s.h.i.+vering shadow over the hilltops. Lily gripped the beast with her thighs, urging him onwards. Looking down, she saw a clearing in the trees and recognised it as the High Place in the centre of the woods. Then, without warning, the beast began to plummet towards the ground. Sure that they would crash right through the earth, Lily threw her arms up across her face and uttered an alarmed cry. She felt the wind of their flight tugging her from the beast's back. She was losing grip! Down, down...

The impact, when it came, was simply the shock of awakening.

Lily opened her eyes, gasping, to find that her body was thres.h.i.+ng around wildly upon her bed. The feeling of flight was still very much with her, the power of the beast's acceleration towards the earth. With awakening, came stillness. Her panicked body subsided into relaxation.

Lily sat up, exhausted and shocked. She had never dreamed anything like that before; it had been so vivid. Quickly, she inspected her belly, expecting to find it still tattooed, but of course, the skin was bare.

Chapter Six.

Sunday 18th October, High Crag House, Cornwall After breakfast, Aninka took a short walk around the grounds of the house, finding all the places where she'd loved to play as a child. Enniel had sent word he could not recommence their interview until after lunch. Feeling on edge and depressed, Aninka was drawn to the shadowed hollow, hidden by ancient hollies, where her cousin Noah had first made love to her, accepting the gift of her virginity with fumbling ardour. Aninka stooped to scramble in among the p.r.i.c.kly, dusty branches. She sat down upon the ground, in hiding. Stiff, dead leaves p.r.i.c.ked her skin through the fabric of her jeans. It would have been appropriate for tears to come, but her eyes were dry. Worse, a fantasy came, of an alternative life, where there had been no horror in Cresterfield, and she had brought Peverel Othman down here to the house to meet her family. She would have shown him this place, and they would have laughed together beneath the holly, their eyes meeting mid-laughter, and their expressions changing to that of desire.

Aninka made an impatient noise to dispel this sad dream and virtually threw herself away from the holly patch. Such fantasies were dangerous. She had to keep in her mind the reason why she was here.

As she walked back to the house, she saw Enniel's tall figure standing at the French windows in the main drawing room. He thought she was a liability, Aninka was sure. d.a.m.n him! Gritting her teeth, she raised her arm in a cheery wave. After the briefest pause, Enniel responded in kind.

He's doing nothing at the moment, Aninka thought. We could be getting this horrible confession business over with, but no, he makes me wait!

She presented herself at Enniel's study ten minutes late on purpose. This time she noticed the tape recorder as soon as she entered the room. Who else would be listening to her confessions in the future, apart from her guardian? It was not a comforting thought.

Enniel made a show of turning his computer off, despite the fact that Aninka could not see the monitor screen from where she was sitting on the leather couch.

I expect you're waiting for the juicy bits!' she said, an attempt at crudeness, as Enniel came to sit beside her.

He pulled a wry expression. It depends on your definition of juice'.'

Aninka rolled her eyes. What do you want: gore, s.e.x, mutilation, murder? I have a selection.'

Enniel sighed patiently. My dear, just begin where we left off, the tape's already running.'

Aninka's story: Cresterfield, July Aninka and Peverel Othman's first arranged meeting took place in a small, rather dingy pub on the outskirts of the city. She could not imagine why he'd chosen such a venue. Eccentricity, presumably. He'd called her the evening before and at first, she had pretended not to remember who he was. She did not want him to know how, since she'd met him, her heart had been leaping involuntarily every time the phone had rung. A hint of laughter in his voice suggested he was perfectly aware of this, however. At Aninka's request, her cousin Noah had made some discrete enquiries about Peverel Othman among local family members, but no-one had heard of him. Still, he perplexed her, for he did not seem to be merely human. She recognised the contradictions within herself: since leaving home, she'd worked hard to be utterly absorbed into human culture, yet now found herself hoping this potential lover might be something more than just a man.

When she walked into the pub, he was already waiting there for her, folded into a corner too small for him, his limbs sprawling gracefully, hugged by leather. She spotted him the instant she walked through the door, even though the room was crowded with noisy young people - none of whom were Aninka's type. So as not to appear too eager, she bought herself a drink at the bar before pus.h.i.+ng through the jostling, over-perfumed bodies to reach Othman's corner. His hair was tied back, accentuating the chiselled lines of his jaw and cheekbones. Hunger flexed in Aninka's belly at the sight of him. He greeted her with a half-smile, cynical and amused. This annoyed her, for she feared she had given him the upper hand.

Sitting opposite Othman, Aninka drank gin and tonic under the yellow lights, dressed in black silk among the frowzy girls with ragged perms, and boys with shaved necks. Again, Othman questioned her gently about herself; nothing too intrusive. She sought to repay the interrogation, but he evaded answering her questions in any depth. This did not surprise her, somehow. So what do you do with yourself?' she asked.

He shrugged. This and that. Some things above board, others not. I'm interested in art and antiquities.'

Hence the travelling.'

Yeah.'

Are you a dealer?'

He smiled. When I need to be.'

His opaque answers began to irritate her. She decided to talk about herself instead. He seemed eager to pay attention. She spoke of her inspirations, the stories of Inanna, Ereshkigal, and - daringly - the earlier myths of Anu, Enlil, Ninkharsag. He did not bite by adding comments of his own, a response which she thought a Grigori would be unable to resist. Perhaps he did not recognise her words as bait.

In a pause in the conversation, she said, I thought you weren't going to call me. It's been some time since we met.' She hoped to draw him out a little, at least, with that.

Ah, well, I've made friends,' he told her.

Was that why he'd delayed in contacting her? A pang of jealousy slithered through her. She imagined the other women who must populate his life, all adoring him, because he looked so fine. She felt herself withdraw from the occasion. She would not be second-best. Good for you,' she said, churlishly.

I'd like you to meet them,' he said, undeterred.

Why?' Did he want to impress them with his famous, or semi-famous, acquaintance?

I think you'd find each other interesting.'

I'm very picky about my friends,' Aninka said. I have to be.' The comment hung between them. He did not question her about it.

So am I.'

Is this why we're here?' Aninka asked. Are you expecting someone else?'

He shook his head. No. We're here because it's honest. I feel like being honest tonight.'

What's honest about it?'

He gestured languidly at the room, although he did not take his eyes, a most penetrating blue, from her own. The lack of tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, the lack of pretence. Would you prefer to be sipping Spritzer in some wine bar?'

Yes, actually. Sorry to disappoint.' She was wondering: Why am I here? Their exchanges had become stilted, perhaps even hostile. Perhaps she should make an effort.

So what are your friends like, then? Why would I find them interesting?'

They are artists, of a kind,' he answered. Of the dark arts.'

What?' She injected a little distaste into her voice.

Magic,' he said. Surely, you're interested in that? All those paintings?'

I'm not sure I believe in it,' she answered stiffly, lying. It's an excuse for perversion, I think.'

Not an excuse, but often an expression,' Othman said.

Just what do you think I am?' She cringed at the cliche.

I didn't want to imply anything,' he said. I think we've set off on the wrong path. Let me explain. These people, they are into reconstructing ancient rites of Sumeria. It's very impressive. In fact, when I first attended one of their rituals, it reminded me of your paintings: the colours, the costumes. It's all very innocent, actually.'

Oh, I see.' Inside, she was smiling. Whatever these people did, it could only be a poor and indistinct reflection of everything she already knew. Othman suddenly seemed pathetic. He had called her only once he'd found something he thought was bizarre enough with which to impress her. He liked to appear interesting and mysterious, she could tell. Still, he was beautiful. She wanted to touch him. Once she'd achieved that, she could dismiss him.

Would you like to meet them, then?' he asked.

Aninka detected a faint note of urgency in his voice. They don't mind outsiders knowing about them?'