Part 13 (2/2)

Wandering back into the centre of the yard, Othman threw back his head to take in the ma.s.sive vista of Long Eden. The blind eyes of its windows seemed to regard him, as if they could see by an extra sense, or could smell his presence. Let me in,' he said, under his breath. You know you want to.'

The house remained impa.s.sive.

Othman had the curious feeling that there were people hiding within it, listening with suspended breath, waiting for him to leave. He sensed fear. Was it possible there really were people left inside? Knowing his people as he did, that was not as incredible as it sounded. He would have to find out exactly why they'd left the village, abandoned their family seat. His enquiries could begin with the old ones in the community. He would give them what they wanted, for a price. He felt nothing would be gained from lingering in this spot just now. Other visits were long overdue; a return to the Winters' cottage, for example. He had been acutely aware of Lily's confusion earlier. It was perhaps time to tweak a few nerves.

A ragged shape suddenly launched itself upon him from the shadows as he walked beneath the stable arch. Othman cried out in surprise, thinking of feathers and claws. He was not prepared to engage in combat with the guardian, preferring less violent and more subtle methods of persuasion. But no shadowy, winged ent.i.ty hovered behind him. Another surge of annoyance crested through him. It was only Emilia Manden.

Thought I'd find you here.' Her voice was cracked, a hideous parody of a seductive tone.

What do you want?' Othman asked coldly. The woman was supposed to dance to his tune, and he was in no mood for music at the moment.

Emilia laughed in an imitation of girlish glee. Oh, come now, Peverel Othman. You know exactly what I want. I've waited long enough for it.'

Not from me, you haven't.' He made to walk past her, but the crone grabbed his arm. There was still strength in her grip, but then it was common for the cosmetic effects of quickening to be the first to disappear.

You're all one and the same,' Emilia said. You've done this to me. Now put it right.' She indicated her shrunken body. Her loathing for it was clear in her eyes, those strangely bright, youthful eyes. Othman loathed it too. He did not want to touch it.

I have other things to attend to - first,' Othman said, and smiled, lightly patting the old woman's fingers where they dug into his arm. You can wait. As you said, you've waited a long time already.'

Emilia shook her head. Oh no. There is the pact, and you are all party to it. I've kept my side - my silence. I've been patient. Now, you must give me my reward, the fruit of healing and of life.' She paused, put her head on one side. I know what you people are like. You need followers: people to do this for you and that for you. You're lazy. Give me life and I'll work for you. You know I'll have no choice.' Her voice became provocative. In the half light beneath the arch, it was easy to believe she was a lot younger than she appeared. You have come for the house, haven't you, but you can't get in. Maybe I can help you.'

You know a way in?' Othman's voice was sharp. He realised he'd made a mistake, let her see his eagerness.

Emilia took a few steps away from him. They lied to us, you know. Told us we'd be fine. We had no idea how quickly the dissolution would come. They didn't care. They just left. We were nothing to them. Nothing...'

Why did they leave?' Othman asked. He realised that Emilia was determined to make herself useful, and was succeeding.

No more, not yet,' she replied. You know what I want. After that, we can talk.' She glanced around herself. But not here. You never know who might be listening.'

It was true the atmosphere around them was that of intense concentration. Where?' Othman asked.

Not the woods,' Emilia said. They're neither safe nor free. The village is patchy, but the safest places are where the new houses are.'

Is there anywhere near there we can have privacy?'

We'll have to see, won't we...'

Emilia walked unevenly towards the drive, and Othman followed her. He felt faintly nauseous, knowing what he'd have to do. But it was perhaps expedient.

Emilia took his arm as they walked down the lane. I was very beautiful once,' she said. And I will be so again.'

Othman remained silent. He sensed unseen eyes at the cottage windows, from the shadowed gardens. People knew what was happening, he was sure.

They turned onto Endark Lane, and walked past the looming portico of the Murkasters' hall. Here, Emilia seemed to want to hurry. Cruelly, Othman hung back. What about here?'

Emilia did not answer, but stuck out her lower jaw and dragged him on. Othman laughed softly. They can't hurt you. How can they?' He paused. But aren't you worried that I can?'

Emilia did not slow her pace. I've got things you need. You need me. You'll not harm me.' She glanced at him. You are not like them.'

If you say so.' He smiled to himself. He thought he must be much worse than the Murkasters, who had fled.

The new bungalows all stood precisely in a row on the right side of the road. They had names like Sunnyside, with long drives sweeping round to porticoed front doors where electric lanterns hung, festooned with wreaths of moths. There seemed to be a large amount of moths about. Othman felt another memory tickle his mind, just below consciousness, but swiftly suppressed it. Strange feelings and moods were coming upon him more frequently now.

Few of the bungalows had net curtains or blinds. Othman saw huge televisions flickering, shadowy figures moving about in dim, comforting light. Sounds came from the houses: family sounds. He curled his lip in disgust. Only so much meat, he thought, nothing more.

Where the row of bungalows ended, there was a lane, leading to a small children's playing field, where a bright plastic slide glowed in the dusk, and swings moved restlessly. Othman looked back at the bungalows. Their gardens were long, but he felt he was still fairly visible from any of the kitchen windows. Here?' he asked. I'll get arrested!'

They won't see,' Emilia said. They are blind to most things. Anyway, it won't take long.'

Sighing, Othman rolled back his sleeve. His skin shone palely as if lit from within. You must let me concentrate for a moment,' he said.

Emilia made a whickering noise. Then he heard her swallow thickly. He turned his back on her. Holding onto his exposed wrist, he summoned his inner energy from the dark abyss: the void, which traversed s.p.a.ce and time, and from where essences of power could be called into the present. In some Grigori, this ability and its products were just memories. Othman could feel it now, rus.h.i.+ng down the tides of time towards him, cras.h.i.+ng into his body, electrifying its fibres. If he turned to the woman now, the sight of his face would burn her. He considered doing that for a moment, then, without turning, offered her his arm. Take it, then.'

Surely, anyone looking from a window at the back of the bungalows would see him. Light leaked from his clothes, his eyes, irradiating the hunched form of the old woman. He felt her grab his arm, fasten her loose old mouth upon it. She desired to bite, to suck his fluids, but lacked the teeth, fortunately. He did not want to bestow such favours. Instead, she sucked with as much power as her ruined facial muscles could muster: sucked the light from him, the life, from the place where the skin was thin. There were other places, but he would not give her access to them. In the event, she drew blood too, but not much.

Othman s.n.a.t.c.hed his arm away. It burned horribly, the burn of intense cold. He could hear Emilia gagging and gasping behind him. That's enough,' he said. He drew the life force back inside himself, sent it cras.h.i.+ng like a waning tide back through the centuries. Othman shook his head to clear his sight. Already, he felt drained, and his arm had begun to throb. It made him feel sick to think of the old woman gobbling away at him. He had never been that keen on providing sustenance, only taking it.

He turned and saw her wiping her mouth. There was little immediate outward change, although her mouth glowed slightly at the corners from the ether which had pa.s.sed through her lips. Her replenishment would take time, but already she seemed to stand straighter, hold herself with more confidence. Take me for a drink,' she said. Then we'll talk.'

Othman had no desire to take Emilia to The White House, and besides, his visit to the Winters' was overdue. Not tonight,' he said. I have a prior arrangement.'

Tonight,' Emilia insisted. We'll go to The Black Dog. Don't worry, I won't embarra.s.s you with your lady friend at the new place.'

He presumed she meant Barbara. Othman made a show of looking at his watch, which he wore only for effect. He knew exactly what time it was. Well, just for a short time,' he said.

Where The White House was light and airy, The Black Dog was dark and suffocating. The entrance was low and ancient; the plaque above the door said, Burchard Leonard' - no indication of his wife. Othman followed Emilia into the smoky, beery atmosphere of the bar. It was packed with locals: farm people, oldsters. The clientele consisted mainly of men, but for one or two women sitting on rickety stools against the bar. In time-honoured fas.h.i.+on, all went quiet when Othman and Emilia entered the room. Othman experienced the typical feeling of having entered someone's front room. It was madness to have agreed to accompany the old woman here.

Someone said, Evenin' Milia.'

Emilia acknowledged the greeting with a grunt, and shuffled up to the bar. Behind it, the tyrant of The Black Dog held sway, a fat man in a tatty looking s.h.i.+rt. One eyelid drooped over his missing eye. The other resembled the eye of a bird, direct, penetrating and soulless.

What'll it be missus?' he said.

A bottle of stout,' Emilia answered, and jerked her head at Othman. He's buying.'

Othman ordered himself a Scotch and soda. He could not imagine how Emilia could talk to him in this place without everyone listening in, but then that might have been her intention.

I'll be using the Snug,' Emilia announced.

Then you'll be needing the light,' said the landlord.

Emilia, carrying her bottle of stout with a gla.s.s over it, led the way to a gla.s.s-paned door at the back of the room. Here, she and Othman descended into a musty dimness. Leonard had put the lights on, but they did little to affect the overall dismal gloom of the room. Three steps led down to a small area where three battered tables stood. Leatherette benches lined two of the walls, and a few stools were tucked beneath the tables. It was very cold.

We can talk in here,' Emilia said, sitting down on one of the benches.

Othman opted for a stool. He felt ridiculous. Whatever the old woman could tell him couldn't possibly be worth this abysmal experience. So talk to me,' he said. I can't say I'm enjoying the surroundings and, in fact, must confess I'm eager to escape them.'

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