Stealing Sacred Fire (5 page)

‘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?’

A globe of radiant light had
lifted above the horizon.

‘A second sun…’ Daniel said
bleakly.

‘A UFO!’ Lily’s voice was more
excited.

At first, Daniel thought that
the great cry that emanated from the crowd along the cliff-top was
their response to this apparition. Everyone was cheering, clapping,
singing, weeping, hugging one another. The arms of the New-Agers
were raised to the sky in adoration, while other people reacted by
falling to their knees, hands clasped beneath their chins. From the
group of sword-wielders, a taller man stepped forth, holding a
black blade up to the sky.

This is their sign, Daniel
thought, the summons for their madness. Then he realised that again
only a select few could see the phenomenon in the east. Everyone
else reacted to the radiant diamond of light that had appeared at
the edge of the blackened sun high overhead. It presaged the return
of light. People’s spirits soared as any mood of depression was
lifted instantly. Daniel could sense this, but it did not affect
him.

Lily was still examining the
light in the east. ‘Daniel, it’s unreal!’ she breathed. ‘So
beautiful.’

‘It’s an earth-light,’ Daniel
said. He lowered his glass. ‘Truly a natural phenomenon, Lil. It’s
probably been triggered by the eclipse.’

Lily dropped her glass. ‘It’s
gone now. What’s an earth-light?’

‘A manifestation of natural
energy.’

She grinned. ‘Oh, did Shem
teach you that?’

He shook his head
uncomfortably. ‘No, but I haven’t been idle while I’ve been in the
Midlands. Let’s say I’ve been continuing my studies.’

Lily frowned. ‘No one else
seemed to be looking at it.’

‘No,’ Daniel said dryly.

‘But what does it matter?’ Lily
said. ‘The sun looks incredible. It’s like a cosmic birth or
something.’

Daniel noticed that Enniel was
loping towards them, grinning widely, his binoculars still in his
hands. ‘Well, isn’t this something!’ Enniel said, his voice full of
pleasure. ‘Just look at them! Fatima revisited! I wonder how many
of them are seeing the Virgin Mary floating in the sky?’

Daniel jerked his head in the
direction of the crowds. ‘Some are seeing something more than that,
I think. Have you noticed the group with the swords?’

Enniel trained his binoculars
on them, and uttered a sound of surprise. ‘Hmm. Perhaps I should
send someone to look into that.’

Daniel shook his head in
exasperation. ‘I suppose this has made a memorable day out. Did you
notice the other phenomenon, the earthlight?’

‘Yes. It was there for those
with eyes to see, which does not include the sheep, of course.’

Daniel put his head to one side
quizzically. ‘And what do you see in the sky, Enniel? Computer
print-outs?’

Enniel uttered a chuckle devoid
of amusement and lowered his binoculars. ‘I see the future, Daniel.
There’ll be more phenomena like that earth light as the year
progresses.’

‘You hope.’

‘Hope has nothing to do with
it. It’s fact.’

Daniel uttered a small sound of
annoyance and put the smoked glass to his eyes again. Enniel never
failed to irritate him in some way. He stared at the eclipse merely
to find an excuse not to talk or listen to Enniel, but the
gradually brightening sun seemed to draw his attention. He wanted
to tear his eyes away, but could not. Even as he looked at it,
three concentric rings of light appeared within it, and at their
centre a shape manifested; a cone of what looked like crystal that
emitted rays of multi-coloured light. A series of high-pitched
tones suddenly assaulted Daniel’s ears. He blinked, and felt a
constriction in his head.

The next moment he was lying on
the ground, looking up at Lily’s face. He could see Enniel behind
her, his expression that of interest rather than concern.

‘Dan!’ Lily cried. ‘What
happened? You fainted!’

Embarrassed, Daniel pushed her
hands away and started to get to his feet. ‘I’m fine. It’s OK.’ He
didn’t feel disorientated or muzzy-headed, as he’d expect to if
he’d simply passed out. It was almost as if someone, or something,
had punched him in the head and sent him flying. The weird tones
still rang in his ears. As he stood up, his eyes met Helen’s on the
same level.

‘He didn’t faint, Mummy,’ she
said. ‘He saw the light.’

‘What did you see?’ Lily asked
sharply.

Daniel pressed a hand to his
eyes, shook his head.

‘Daniel!’ Enniel snapped. ‘What
did you see?’

‘All right, all right. Rings in
the eclipse. A cone of light. That’s all.’

‘And that means?’

Daniel shrugged. ‘You tell me.
I just see the stuff. Other people can interpret it.’

Presently, warmth returned to
the land and the sun shone down benignly as normal. While parties
raged along the beach, the Grigori started drifting back towards
High Crag.

‘I’m coming back to High Crag
for a while,’ Lily said, and linked her free arm through Daniel’s.
‘Are you coming? I mean, yes, you are coming. I’m not leaving you
out here, moping.’

‘I’m not moping,’ Daniel said,
managing a smile. He let her begin to lead him back towards the
house, keeping half an eye on Helen, who was walking
straight-backed and sombre beside her mother. Lily chatted amiably
of inconsequential things and Daniel felt himself begin to relax.
Then, Helen pulled away sharply from Lily’s hand and ran backwards
in front of them, laughing. ‘He’s awake!’ she cried. ‘Awake!’

Daniel glanced at Lily, then
back at the child, who fixed him with bright eyes. She pointed at
him stiffly and, when she spoke, her voice sounded weirdly adult.
‘He wants you,’ she said. ‘He wants you now.’

Daniel pulled away from Lily’s
arm and began to run towards High Crag.

‘Daniel, wait!’ Lily cried, but
he ignored her.

New York

Smoking was forbidden in the building,
which loomed high and shining behind her, its summit resplendent in
the afternoon sun, its side-walk root bathed in shadow. Hectic city
traffic surged past at street level, horns blared. The aromas of
coffee, cinnamon, fried dough and vanilla smoked from a nearby cafe
and hung on the hot, chemical-filled air like incense.

Melandra Maynard stood just
beyond the entrance to the building, smoking a final cigarette
before her meeting. She had been to Lamech House many times before,
even worked on some of the floors, which housed the offices of
various industries owned by the corporation. But today she would be
granted admission to the inner sanctum. Some part of her, childish
in its fears, worried that she might not come out again. She did
not fear death, but change. Melandra as she was now might cease to
exist.

She had lived a normal life in
New England until the age of five, brought up by god-fearing
parents who were members of a secretive Christian sect called the
Children of Lamech. Then, her cousin Isaac had died, carried off by
leukaemia at the age of ten. At the funeral, Melandra had noticed
how some people — who weren’t relatives — had looked at her
strangely. She could tell they were talking about her. At first,
she had thought she’d done something wrong. Then, one Sunday, soon
afterwards, a man and a woman whom she’d never met before came to
her parents’ house.

It had been an autumn day, the
air full of soft rain and smoke, the trees hanging onto the last of
their gaudy finery. Melandra had been playing on her bicycle in the
yard and had watched the big, black car slide up to the house, and
the strangers get out of it. The couple had been very tanned, full
of smiles, their smart, city clothes so stiff it seemed they would
creak. They had gone into the house, and after a while, Melandra
had been called indoors. The strangers sat with china teacups in
tooth-thin saucers resting on their laps. Their bright teeth were
like china. Melandra looked at her mother and father. They looked
odd, strained.

‘You’re going to school,’
Melandra’s mother had told her. ‘Away.’

‘Be a good girl, Melly,’ said
her father.

Melandra hadn’t wanted to go
with the strangers, but because she’d never been a troublesome
child, she had kept her bewilderment and shock to herself. It had
all happened so quickly. Her mother had packed a suit-case for her
daughter, and with suppressed emotion, kissed the child on her head
and offered her into the hands of the strangers. There had been no
explanations as to why this unexpected fate had fallen upon her.
Perhaps it had been planned for a long time. Melandra never saw her
parents again.

The child had sat in the back of the
big, black car and had watched her familiar life retreat through
the rear window. The strangers gave her sweets to suck, and a
colour comic of stories about Jesus. The leather smell of the car
had made her head ache. They had driven for a long time.

Melandra had been taken to a
big, grey house at the end of a gravel driveway surrounded by
trees. The house was a school, but there were no children there.
Just Melandra. She had six teachers, who were all mousy spinsters.
The head-mistress at least had the distinction of being widowed,
but seemed hardly marked by the past experience of marriage. It had
been a house of dry, genderless women, who smelled of moth-balls
and lavender, and who all wore cardigans of colourless wool.
Melandra had been absorbed into this cloister-like environment, and
it had seemed as if the gates to the outside world had sealed
behind her like flesh over a wound. Her teachers had been kind, and
because she was naturally an obedient child, rarely had to be
strict. Melandra had learned she was different from other children.
She had a purpose in life; a very special one. But no-one would
tell her what it was. Once, she had wondered whether the death of
her cousin had been instrumental in changing her life, but had
never voiced the thought. In her isolation, she learned to create a
secret life for herself. She was imaginative and naturally wild,
but no-one who met the demure, tidy child would ever have guessed
that.

Once she turned sixteen, she
had been removed to another grey house; this one a college rather
than a school. There had been other girls and boys there, which
made Melandra feel uneasy for she was unused to mixing with people
her own age. In this place, she had been told she was one of God’s
special warriors, and the skills she had learned there had no place
in the mind of a young girl.

Now, she was twenty-four years
old, living rent-free in an apartment owned by the Children of
Lamech. She did not work, but received a payment from the church
into her bank account every month. It was sufficient to live on.
She’d always been aware that her life had been on hold, and that
eventually it would be turned on by someone else’s finger on a
secret switch. Today it would happen.

Grinding out her stub on the
side-walk Melandra turned to the main entrance, caught sight of her
reflection in the eternally revolving doors, and paused for a
moment to inspect herself for flaws. Dark suit, severe in cut;
long, dark hair cut in a bob that was equally severe. A light
summer coat hung over her arm. She held a briefcase. Her make-up
was precise; pale foundation, dark eye-shadow, a perfect slash of
red lip-stick. Her perfume was salty-citric, a mere suggestion of a
scent. All was in order. She was ready. At last. She would learn
why she’d been trained to kill.

Inside, the lobby was spacious,
like a shopping mall. Enormous escalators swept up to and down from
a mezzanine floor above. Security guards, stationed behind a desk
by the door, equipped Melandra with an identification tag; then one
of them made a murmured call, not through the main switch-board but
from another, independent phone.