Part 11 (1/2)

How long have you lived here in Little Moor?' Othman asked, interrupting a description Barbara was giving of some of her innovations in the village.

Oh - er - not that long, a year or so. Why?' Barbara had noticed the rather pointed end of the question.

I'm interested in local history. Wondered how much you knew about the place.'

Oh, I'm very interested in it, too!' Barbara revved herself up for the discussion. I'm sure there's a wealth of history a.s.sociated with Little Moor. Not least, to do with that rather sinister looking pile over there.' She pointed to the right, where the baroque turrets of Long Eden ranked silent and watchful against the sky. That's where the local gentry used to live, but for some reason, they closed up the house and left the village about twenty years ago.' She laughed. Dark secrets, no doubt.'

Tell me about it.'

There's little to tell, really. The villagers either don't know, or won't divulge, much about the family. They had a fabulous name: the Murkasters. A suitable t.i.tle for dark and deadly deeds! When I first came here, I wanted to know all about them, of course. I was looking for inspiration for my work. The impression I got was that people resented them for moving away - felt abandoned, I suppose. The Murkasters must have donated a lot to the community at one time. There's a hall in the village used as an old people's centre, that they built. And there's the local library. Admittedly it's tiny, but it has a back room stuffed full of quite rare books that I believe came from the Murkasters. There are also some alms-houses, which again the family had built. It's all a bit shadowy, but I think there's some kind of trust, which allows for older people in the village to live in the alms-houses for free. I hope the fund doesn't run out. That would certainly put the lid on it for the Murkasters as far as the people here are concerned!'

The Murkasters seem to have been altruists, then. I wonder why they moved away?'

Well, it's fun to think of mysterious reasons, but I suspect it was a case of the younger members of the family wanting a little more life than could be offered by Little Moor. I expect they have property all over the place, or something.'

Were they t.i.tled?'

I don't think so. There might have been an honourable' somewhere along the line.'

Othman had stopped walking, standing to stare at Long Eden. Can we go over and have a look?'

Isn't it a bit too dark, now?' Barbara felt nervous of venturing beneath the night-shadow of the house. Also, she was not certain whether there was a caretaker around or not. There might be dogs patrolling. She hated the thought of being run off the place as a trespa.s.ser. We could take a walk up tomorrow afternoon, if you like.' She could see Othman smiling at her through the darkness.

Barbara! I believe you're scared!' He took her arm, an electrifying sensation. Come along, I won't let anything hurt you.'

Barbara allowed him to lead her in the direction of the house. It was ridiculous. He must be at least twenty-five years her junior, yet she felt so much younger than him. She realised this situation might have its benefits. I'm not scared. It's just that we might be trespa.s.sing. I can't believe they haven't got any security around the place. Won't it look suspicious creeping up on the place by night?'

The place looks deserted!' Othman argued. Come on. Be adventurous.'

Barbara relented. Well, all right. Just for a little while.' She called to the dogs, who appeared happy to follow them.

They had to climb through a dilapidated fence that marked the boundary of Long Eden's grounds. There had once been a wall, but much of it had crumbled, to be replaced by the makes.h.i.+ft wooden panels. That indicated a decline in fortune, perhaps. The Murkasters might not have been able to keep the place up, which had prompted them to move away. But in that case, why hadn't they sold the property?

To Barbara, it was like entering an enchanted garden. Moonlight illumined the overgrown terraces, the weed-thick lake, with its ivy-bound summer house, the strangled follies, where carved faces peered through the foliage. It's beautiful,' she murmured. Beyond the jungled garden, the house was black and ma.s.sive.

Seems rather a waste, doesn't it?' Othman said.

Amber and Lester were racing off across the ruined lawns. One of them barked, and the sound echoed, far.

It makes me feel sad,' Barbara said. They found their way onto a gravel pathway, obscured by brambles. But it's so romantic, too.' She let the remark hang. Othman had made no move towards her, offered no sign of interest. Perhaps she was being too forward, but the remark could be interpreted as innocent, or simply artistic, if she should receive a rebuke of some kind.

It's very romantic,' Othman replied, but he did not look at her, and he had released her arm.

The main lawn felt endless as they stood in its centre, knee high in dying gra.s.ses, staring up at the frontage of Long Eden. Barbara felt particularly sensitive, as if she was hearing, or feeling, echoes of things that had happened here in the garden. She thought of croquet, parties, women in white dresses, laughter, and strangely, music from the Twenties playing on an old gramophone. Why did they go?' she murmured, thinking aloud.

The windows are all boarded up,' Othman said. That's why there's no reflection from them. That's why it's so dark and eerie.'

Well, they'd have to secure the place, wouldn't they. I'd love to look inside!' She laughed. But by day, I think. This place must be over-run with ghosts! Out here, I like them, but I think I'd be frightened of them inside the house.'

Barbara, would you mind if I just.. soaked up the atmosphere for a moment or two?' Othman asked. I'd like to sit quietly here. It won't take long.'

He sat down in the long gra.s.s, and a.s.sumed a meditative posture. Barbara was surprised, but then told herself she shouldn't be surprised by anything Othman did. She hardly knew him. Obviously, he was a bit of a New-Age type person, but then she had dabbled a little with alternative therapies and such like herself.

Of course!' she said and sat down cross-legged in front of him. Carry on. I'll just sit here a while, too. I hope the dogs aren't getting into mischief!'

Othman smiled at her, then closed his eyes. Barbara studied his face in repose. He really was astoundingly beautiful. She admired his high cheekbones, his long precise jaw, the brush-stroke sweep of his brows, his dusty fair hair escaping in curving tendrils from his pony-tail. It made her ache to look at him. He was beyond her, she knew. If anything could happen between them, it would be brief. Then he would move on, to affect other people, elsewhere, in the same way. At that moment, Barbara decided she wanted a piece of Peverel Othman, however small, and however short a time she could hold onto it. Her looks hadn't deserted her completely, and she had the benefit of experience. If anything, working in The White House had toned up her ability to flirt. Never before had she considered being unfaithful to Barney, but this was too unique an opportunity to miss.

Othman was aware of Barbara's scrutiny and could catch the stream of her thoughts, pouring like a mist from her aura. He was flattered she appreciated his difference, and how special it was. He didn't blame her that she wanted a piece of it. They all felt that way. Still, he must put that to the back of his mind, and open up to whatever resonances remained here in this place.

At first, there was nothing but the buzz and hum of distant, human echoes. He rose above himself, and scanned the landscape. If anything, it was too regular. Cloaked, perhaps. He sensed a smothered pulse of energy coming from the High Place in the woods, but the house itself seemed wrapped in velvet. It was aware of him, and knew he was aware of it, but he was unsure whether there was a sense of recognition, or not. I am looking for my people,' he offered it, in simple geometric forms. Have they been here?'

There was a sense of quickening, of condensed alertness, almost of wariness. It was possible for buildings to acquire a certain limited sentience from generations of human occupants, but he was looking for the singular genius loci, its guardian spirit, which would signal the presence, past or present, of his kin. Houses, to his people, were not just shelters, but protectors too. If this place had been closed up, it was possible a guardian form had been created there, who was enjoined to silence, to keep the secrets. He would have to win its confidence before it would reveal anything to him. The spirit of a place would have only limited intelligence. Perhaps he would have to give it a sign.

Barbara,' he said, and opened his eyes. She was still staring at him.

Yes?' She was waiting to hear what he'd picked up, waiting for ghost stories. He looked ethereal in the moonlight, his skin so pellucid, it seemed it glowed with light from within. He made no move towards her, yet it seemed they were touching. The contact of eyes was more physical than she could ever have believed possible. Barbara's vision blurred as her eyes filled with water, yet she refused to blink and break the contact. Othman was s.h.i.+ning now, brilliant through her tears. Her body tingled with energy. She could not breathe, did not want to. Holding the stare for as long as she could, Barbara eventually had to give in, throw back her head, suck in breath. As her head cracked back, sound was squeezed from her chest. For a moment, she felt dizzy and blind, then a sudden, unexpected and powerful o.r.g.a.s.m pulsed up through her belly. It was like being electrocuted, as if a conducting metal rod had been plunged through the top of her head, down her spine, into the earth. She juddered uncontrollably around this conductor, weak and helpless in its pulsing waves. Then, as abruptly as it had come, the sensation fled. She fell backwards onto the gra.s.s, feeling sick and faint. The sky spun overhead, the moon circling crazily above her. Pain filled her head. Othman leaned over her, put his cool fingers against her temples, and the pain diminished, as if it was being sucked back into a black hole deep within her. She heard the echoes of lamenting cries inside her mind.

I'm sorry,' Othman said. I hope you weren't hurt.'

Barbara had begun to cry, and was powerless to stop herself. What happened? What happened?'

The atmosphere here, it's very powerful. I didn't mean to do that.' He helped Barbara sit up. Come on. We should go now.'

Barbara pulled a handkerchief from her jacket pocket, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She managed a shaky laugh. I don't know why I'm crying. That was... unbelievable. How did it happen?' She didn't know whether Othman was aware of how his stare had actually affected her. Maybe he thought she'd just got a headache from it.

Just echoes,' he answered. You must be quite psychic.'

Oh, I don't know about that.' Barbara tried to inject some normality back into her voice. Where are the dogs? Amber! Lester!' She heard barking from some distance away.

They're back in the field,' Othman said. He offered his arm, which Barbara took, and they began to walk back towards the garden boundary.

Barbara still felt dazed. She was wondering whether she'd just been unfaithful to Barney or not. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before. Her underwear felt uncomfortably wet. How long had it been since she'd felt pleasure like that? G.o.d, did this man realise what he'd done to her? She risked a sneaky glance. Othman was tall and silent at her side. She hadn't really thought about how tall he was before. In fact, it seemed he was taller now than he had been. She must be going mad. This was all too bizarre.

Did you pick up much about the place?' Barbara asked.

Othman shrugged. A little.' He patted her hand where it was hooked through his elbow. Thanks for helping me.'

I feel I should be thanking you,' she ventured, boldly.

Othman smiled at her. He knew she was waiting for him to say something about what had happened, was looking for some sign he returned her interest. He couldn't be bothered to deal with that now. All he was concerned about was that the house had witnessed what he'd done, watched his transformation and the transfer of power. In return, he had caught a glimpse of the guardian, an immense bird-like creature, essentially Grigori in origin.

When Grigori felt the need to emplace guardians, they generally employed two: one physical, one spiritual. Othman had picked up no sense of a physical guardian, but he'd seen the shadow of a spiritual presence. These psychically conjured creatures were always birdlike, reflecting the ancient myths of the simurgh, the anzu bird and the roc. The simurgh was an ancient Persian king of the birds, a giver of prophecies to mankind and reputedly possessed of the knowledge of all the ages. The roc, another Persian mythical creature, was the fabulous bird of the sun, of enormous size and strength, and the anzu bird-demon of the Sumerians was remembered for stealing the Tablets of Destiny from the G.o.d Ellil. All of these mythical birds had their roots in symbols of death and transformation, as well as flight into the realms of Heaven. Thousands of years ago, the early shamans had entered a state known as the death trance and, like the enormous birds of their folk tales, had soared along the Milky Way, the river of the stars.

Because of their ancient affinity with bird shamanism, the Grigori often worked with bird-like symbols: the peac.o.c.k, the vulture, and more mythical avian creatures. Often, the guardians drawn from these symbols were aggressive, but then they had to be, in order to defend effectively whatever property or site they had been created to protect.

Othman had certainly not been offered an invitation to enter the house, but the manifestation of the guardian could be interpreted as an acknowledgement. He felt highly excited, but the pleasure of this sensation was to prolong the moment before he allowed himself release. As for Barbara, he knew he'd awoken something within her, of which she was not yet fully aware. He would enjoy watching her discover this thing.