Stealing Sacred Fire (4 page)

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.