The Grigori: Stalking Tender Prey Part 16

Wednesday 21st - Friday 23rd October: High Crag House, Cornwall Enniel knew that Aninka would be divulging the end of her story during their next interview. As she made herself comfortable, as usual, on the sofa in his office, Aninka noticed a covered trolley beside the drinks cabinet. She recognised the outlines of plates heaped with food; more comforts than usual were to be provided, then. Enniel had no doubt guessed this last session would be the most traumatic for her. Already, her mouth felt dry at the prospect.

You will speak plainly, won't you?' Enniel said gently, placing a globe of brandy into her hands. Normally, he reserved the administering of liquor until the end of the session.

Aninka nodded. Yes. I've already made up my mind about that.' She glanced at him. It will not be easy, but I'll do it.'

Enniel smiled tightly and sat down behind his desk, creating the distance between them Aninka always needed to begin resuming her story. Shall we start?' His fingers hovered over the tape recorder.

Not yet.' Aninka took a drink. Enniel, I need to know why all this is so important to you. I get the feeling I was involved in something much bigger than I realised. I wonder how you're going to use the information I'm giving you.'

Enniel withdrew his hand from the tape recorder. His expression was quizzical. I don't really know until I've heard the whole story. I have only suspicions, at present. I'm sorry, my dear, but I can't say more than that. Not yet. Now, can we begin?'

Aninka's Story: Cresterfield, October The last Friday night Aninka spent with Othman began like any other. Aninka drove over to Grey Gables early, after Othman had called her to tell her he'd be late and would see her at the Marks' later on. She parked her car at the bottom of the drive. The smell of cooking m.u.f.fins wafted from Wendy's kitchen window, a scent which mingled pleasingly with the fruity, smoky late summer aromas that filled the air. Aninka hadn't seen Wendy since the previous weekend as she'd had to go to Birmingham to organise a new exhibition of her work. Aninka had only been away for three days, but the enforced separation from Othman had been almost unendurable. She'd returned to the flat in the early hours of Friday morning, and had almost wept to find him there waiting for her. She'd wanted to devour him with love, and consequently had had very little sleep.

As she walked up the sloping driveway to Wendy's house, Aninka remembered thinking how contented she was. Perhaps that had been tempting fate.

Ivan let Aninka in, greeting her with a brief hug and kiss. No-one else had yet arrived.

Wendy was busy preparing an ornate salad in the kitchen. Mmm, garlic!' Aninka said as she took off her soft wool jacket and slung it over a high stool.

Wendy seemed effervescent, bustling around in an almost manic manner. Wait till you taste it!'

Oh, a new recipe?'

Variation on an old favourite. Pev has given me some ingredients to try.'

Othman had not struck Aninka as being interested in cookery before. She couldn't help smiling. Really! This is a side of the man I've never seen!'

Wendy picked up a little crock bowl full of what looked like raw incense: herbs, small twigs, chopped root. Here it is. I think it has an unp.r.o.nounceable name, can't remember it.'

Aninka took the bowl and sniffed. It was sweet, like a flowery perfume, but also acrid when it hit the back of her throat. She pulled a face. I'm not sure I want to eat this!'

Oh, don't worry. It tastes divine. Ivan and I have had some already.' Wendy giggled in an uncharacteristic manner. Aninka felt slightly unnerved: Wendy didn't seem herself. I told Pev last week about... well, he came round one evening to see Ivan, and arrived before Ivan got home from work. I don't know quite how it happened, but I ended up telling him about...' She lowered her voice, her eyes flicking briefly to the kitchen door. ...Misty.'

It was news to Aninka that Othman had visited the Marks without her. Still, should she be surprised? She knew so little about his movements when he wasn't with her, and she only spent a few nights a week with him. No doubt hearing about the domestic problems of the Marks would have amused him; more ant behaviour to observe. Was he a sympathetic listener?' Her voice, she noticed, was sharp.

Wendy appeared to be oblivious of Aninka's tone. Oh, very. Our discussion was quite frank. He told me I needed a tonic, and Ivan too. Our lives have become... very routine. This herbal mixture has been very beneficial. I feel wonderful!'

Aninka picked up the crock bowl again, and stirred its contents with her finger. A suspicion came to her. Grigori rituals sometimes involved the use of haoma, a concoction of hallucinogenic herbs which could be eaten or smoked to induce ecstasy. Haoma was a highly secret substance. Would Othman dare to give some to the Marks? Aninka herself had never taken it. Once she'd been old enough to make a choice, she'd refused to become involved in magical work with her family. Children, naturally, weren't ever given haoma.

What's in it?' Aninka asked.

Wendy shrugged. Oh, just herbs and stuff. It's all harmless, and none of the ingredients are illegal. Pev a.s.sured us of that. He said we could grow them all in our garden, if we wanted to.'

And you're going to feed it to everyone tonight?'

Wendy frowned. Why not? There's no harm in cheering everyone up.'

I thought you all abstained from intoxicating substances until you'd performed your ritual.' Aninka knew she sounded accusatory, but didn't care. In her opinion, Othman was undermining the group, but perhaps he didn't know Wendy planned to use the mixture in her meal tonight.

These are natural herbs,' Wendy said. It's not the same. Pev said the ancient Sumerians used to use them. It's a very old recipe.'

Aninka realised then that her suspicions concerning haoma were probably correct. What on earth was Othman playing at? Wendy was behaving differently tonight; there was an unfamiliar brittleness about her. Aninka could sense an edgy distance between herself and her friend. Had Othman said anything to cause that?

Pev has been very helpful to us recently,' Wendy said. He's been having a few chats with Ivan about the rituals.'

Has he?' Aninka interrupted sharply.

Yes. Didn't he tell you? Well, he and Ivan have written something between them. Ivan says it's splendid. We'll have to use scripts, of course, because it's so new, and no-one's seen it yet, but we're going to enact it tonight...'

Let me see it,' Aninka said. She tried to keep the urgency from her voice. I mean, can I see it?'

Wendy frowned. I don't think Ivan wants anyone to see it yet. It's to be a surprise...'

Since when have you performed a ritual without everyone reading it first? Aninka asked. I think we should see it, Wend'.'

Wendy had paused in the act of slicing a cuc.u.mber. What's the matter?' she asked. It sounds as if you don't trust Pev.' She smiled. I hope you're not jealous!'

Aninka shook her head. Oh, please! Of course not. I'm just surprised Pev has done this. He's mentioned nothing to me.'

He probably just wants to surprise you too,' Wendy said, resuming her slicing. She clearly had no suspicions. I don't think he's actually written any of the ritual himself, but he's lent Ivan some wonderful old books he's found.'

What kind of books?'

Well, I suppose they'd be archaeological. Some scholar writing about ancient rites.'

Aninka's flesh froze. What kind of rites? Different to what you've been doing?'

Wendy laughed. Oh, don't look so alarmed! They're not that different, apparently, but just a little more... authentic.' She paused, and directed a look of appeal at Aninka. Look, Ninka, you've been an enormous help to me, recently. Please don't think I don't appreciate that. I value our friendship. But it's been good to see more of Pev, too. He's helped me get a new perspective on things, a man's view, I suppose. You know how worried I was about my marriage.'

I understand that,' Aninka said, but why didn't you tell me about it? What did you think I'd say? I must admit I'm disappointed that you felt you had to keep Pev's visits secret from me. He is my partner, after all.' It unnerved Aninka to think Peverel Othman might have been paying visits to the Marks without her. Even more so that he seemed to be influencing their activities.

Wendy dropped her eyes. Well, there didn't seem that much to tell you! I... I really didn't think to mention it, and anyway, I've only seen you a couple of times since it began, and then never alone.' She sighed. Look, Pev has just been here to see Ivan once or twice during the past two weeks. And while you've been away, he's come for dinner every night. I think he was missing you.' She looked up at Aninka and smiled hopefully. We do enjoy his company, Ninka. Please don't be cross about this. Pev's so knowledgeable about the past.'

Wendy, I don't think...' Aninka began, but couldn't think how to voice her suspicions without sounding as if she was being possessive about Othman. It was obvious the Marks thought highly of him, and believed he genuinely liked them and had an interest in their ceremonies. Aninka, having heard his scornful tirades against the group, knew otherwise. Or did she? To whom was Othman actually lying?

What is he up to? Aninka thought. Were his true motives for becoming a.s.sociated with the group about to be revealed?

When Othman arrived, he was in a cheerful humour. As he greeted Aninka with a brief kiss to the cheek, she asked him in an undertone, So, you've taken on the role of director, then?'

There's nothing wrong with a little direction, surely?' Othman responded lightly, and then avoided her eyes, moving away to greet the others, who were all waiting for his attention.

Aninka felt uneasy, but was unable to say anything more to Othman without being heard. Presumably, that was deliberate on Othman's part. She sensed he was off' with her. What had she done to upset him since this morning?

Wendy emerged, beaming, from the kitchen. Pev!' She hurried forwards to embrace him, hanging onto him for just a little too long.

Aninka felt faintly sick. Were Wendy and Othman being awkward with her because something had happened between them while she'd been away? She felt as if the ground was shifting beneath her feet.

Othman handed Wendy a carrier bag, which clinked as it moved. A rare vintage for my lady!' he said.

Wendy cooed and batted her eyelashes - a reaction Aninka would have expected from Misty Kennedy rather than her friend. The bag contained three bottles of what appeared to be wine, which Aninka presumed were expensive. Nick Emmett apparently noticed her uneven temper. He appeared at her shoulder as everyone went to take their seats in the dining room. Are you all right, Aninka? You look very frowny tonight.'

Mm? Oh, I'm fine. Fine.' Aninka made an effort to smother her misgivings. It appeared she was the only one who could sense an unfamiliar tension in the air.

The wine was opened as Wendy brought the main course through from the kitchen. Aninka wanted to remind everyone that they usually abstained from alcohol until later, but realised the observation would not be appreciated tonight. Things were different.

Othman, sitting opposite Aninka, filled her gla.s.s. Try it,' he said.

Aninka eyed the liquid suspiciously; it was bright green in colour, like absinthe. You are full of unexpected delights,' she said smoothly, but did not take the gla.s.s he offered. First salad condiments, now expensive liquor.'

Do try it,' Othman said again. His eyes, she thought, were utterly cold. A thread of feeling, which contained both panic and misery, wove down her spine. Pev, what is happening?

Holding his eyes with her own, Aninka sipped the wine. She felt as if he'd offered her a cup of poison, and she was demonstrating her love for him by accepting it. The drink was unexpectedly sweet, almost honeyed, with the ghost of tart herbs in its flavour. She realised its perfume was similar to that of the herb mixture Wendy had put in the salad. Haoma, Aninka thought, now sure of it. What is this?' she asked lightly. A vintage untombed from the vaults of Ur, or something?'

Don't be ridiculous!' Othman answered with a wide grin. Can't you see the bottles are only three hundred years old?'

Aninka put down her gla.s.s. She felt estranged from her lover, as if she'd only just met him. This might as well be the first night he'd brought her to this house.

Wendy was heaping Aninka's plate with moussaka and salad. The red and white cabbage was speckled with the dust of Othman's mystery condiment. Aninka resolved not to touch it. She wanted, at that moment, to leave the house. Nick Emmett seemed a hot and unwelcome presence at her left side while, across from her, the ghoulish Serafina looked like a malevolent imp. For once, Serafina had managed to grab the seat next to Othman before Misty Kennedy had claimed it, and was now sitting there with a smug air of conquest. Let her have him, Aninka thought. She's welcome. Sadly, she wished this could be true. How much power a person has over you when you love them. The thought was frightening.

A whoop of laughter came from down the table. Misty Kennedy had dropped a forkful of moussaka down her cleavage. Ivan, red-faced and grinning, was using his own fork to retrieve it. Aninka glanced at Wendy and was shocked by what she saw. Instead of wearing the tight expression of disapproval and defeat that Aninka would have expected, Wendy was smiling benignly at the tableau. Aninka felt totally disorientated. Was it possible she was sitting among strangers who had replaced the people she knew? She ate a small forkful of her moussaka.

You're not eating much,' Nick said, with apparent concern. It's really very good, too. Are you sure you're all right?'

Absolutely,' Aninka responded sharply. She took a drink of wine instead, forcing down the acid, sweet liquid. She felt she'd have to get drunk now to cope with the strange mood of the night, the suggestion of cold indifference from her lover, and Wendy's bizarre behaviour. He's going to get them all drunk or stoned she thought. The rite will be a travesty, or perhaps it's necessary to be intoxicated to perform it. She glanced again at Misty and Ivan flirting unashamedly down the table. She drank more wine, and ate more moussaka. Perhaps the drink had stimulated her appet.i.te, for now she felt ravenous. But she would not touch the salad.

She realised the pressure she'd thought was Nick's thigh against her own was actually his hand. She flicked a discrete glance down at her lap, prompting Nick to squeeze her flesh, just below the groin. She stared at his fingers. There was no impulse to push him away. Encouraged, he pressed his hand against her crotch. Aninka looked him in the eye. He appeared to be very drunk. She wondered, vaguely, why she didn't feel angry or disgusted at his importunity. Nick's tongue shot out to lick his lips in a suggestive manner. Aninka felt herself grow hot and recognised the undeniable stab of l.u.s.t that pushed through her belly.

By the end of the main course, the group were all laughing and talking loudly. Inhibitions were clearly lowered, if not cast away. Aninka sat in a daze, an observer, while Nick Emmett continued to caress her thigh. Wendy looked as if she was about to slip off her chair and disappear beneath the table. Serafina's black eye makeup had begun to slide down her face, and her red lipstick was smeared around her mouth, giving her a totally dissipated appearance. Once Othman's wine was finished, Ivan had produced some bottle of his own: a young, dry red. Aninka noticed that Othman continually filled Serafina's gla.s.s with wine for her. It looked as if the girl might be sick at any moment. Down the table, Misty was inserting lettuce fragments down the front of her dress, and Ivan, cheered on by the other men, was retrieving them with his mouth. Wendy watched with a pa.s.sive smile as her husband came up for air and then plunged his face into Misty's bosom again. Aninka could not speak. She felt apart from the proceedings, yet tranquil.

There was no carefully produced dessert to end the meal that night.

Othman got to his feet, and cried, Let the rite begin!' He looked feral, powerful, the very image of a Fallen One, his hair tumbling over his shoulders, his eyes wide and dark, yet shining with an inner light.

The group all cheered and followed Othman in a shambling, giggling line to the garage. Aninka and Nick came last. Before they left the dining room, Nick virtually threw Aninka up against the wall. Her body felt liquid; she did not resist, nor did she want to. She felt his hand slide beneath the silk of her underwear, a sudden invasion of her body. His fingers rubbed her furiously for a few seconds, further igniting her desire. She realised, dimly, she must be affected by Othman's wine, yet was so intoxicated, she did not care. Someone called her name from the corridor that led to the garage, and Nick released her. They stared at one another for a couple of seconds, each aware that soon they would be slaking their l.u.s.t with one another.

Nick smiled. Come on.' Aninka followed him to the garage.

The candles and incense were already lit, and Ivan had put a tape on the hi-fi system, which was concealed behind one of the wall hangings. The sound of rhythmic chanting pumped softly in the background. The group arranged themselves in a circle. Aninka realised none of them had bothered getting changed into regalia tonight. Was that an oversight because of their drunkenness? Othman stood with his back to the group, before the altar. He had stripped to the waist, his hair hanging down like a flag of dusty, pale rags, its longest locks brushing the waistband of his leather trousers. Aninka's heart turned over in her chest at the sight of him, then Nick Emmett took her hand in his own. She knew that Othman would not be with her this night, and that he would not care that another man was claiming the privilege.

After a few moments of shuffling and whispering, the group fell silent. Othman raised his arms. He began to speak in a tongue unfamiliar to the group, but which Aninka recognised as a dialect of ancient Persia. She herself was not fluent in it, because it was used only in high ceremonial rites among her people, but she had heard it occasionally at weddings and funerals. Even then, it was used only sparingly, to describe the inner secrets of love and death. Now Othman began the elemental invocations to create the inner temple. At each of the four quarters around the circle, he paused and uttered an incantation, his long fingers describing intricate gestures through the smoke of incense. In the east, he cried Yazatas Vayu!' Aninka experienced a feeling of mild shock. He was uttering the hidden names, which were kept secret from the majority of humans, other than those who had miraculously held onto vestiges of the old ways, and who had their own esoteric societies. The names themselves possessed great power. As Othman called to the angel of the wind, a ghost of a breeze lifted the hangings around the temple. In the south, he cried Yazatas Anam Nanat!' and the air became moist with the presence of water. In the west, he called, Yazatas Atar Neryosang!' and the candles blazed more brightly. In the north, Othman called, Yazatas Zam!' and a smell of ripe earth filled the air.

Aninka felt as if her hair was crackling with static; her heart was beating hard. This was Grigori magic, performed here in this suburban house, among people whom she could not imagine possessed the spiritual strength to cope with it. She hoped they would be safe, and spoke a brief prayer to Anahita, a benign G.o.ddess-form: Protect them!'

Othman turned to face the group. His countenance looked sensuously demonic. Aninka doubted he would recognise her now if she spoke to him. Why Pev? she asked silently. Why this? What is it you're looking for? She felt immeasurably sorrowful.

He began a whispered chant and presently the rest of the group joined in: Armaity, druj, marezehdika.'

Aninka would not speak the words. They would, she felt, turn her tongue black: words of hatred and falsehood. An insistent, gentle voice in her mind, perhaps even the presence of Anahita herself, urged Aninka to break away from the group and run from the house without looking back once. The voice was not strong enough. Aninka was held immobile in the web of the chanted words.

She turned to Nick to say something, utter some warning if she could, but found she could not make herself understood. She was speaking the same language as Othman. Nick laughed at her, clearly delighted. Aninka shut her mouth, tried to begin again, her lips twisting around the words. She had lost the ability to speak in English. It felt as if she'd split into two people: one was the silent Aninka, who was appalled by what was happening, the other was a woman who could speak in an ancient tongue and who welcomed the ceremony to come. This woman beat the silent Aninka back, and soon there was only She, a creature stripped of contemporary restraints, an archetype of her people.

The other members of the group were still swaying and chanting the words. They turned to one another and began to remove each other's clothes. Othman presided over them like a flame, approving their actions. Aninka caught his eye, and dropped her jaw to hiss and snarl at him. His eyes burned back at her. She dropped to all fours, and Nick Emmett was tearing her clothes from her back. Turning round, she lashed out at him, her clawed fingers ripping his shirt. She lunged up to rend the fabric with her teeth. Nick laughed, holding onto her wrists to keep her from mauling him. There was no sense whatever that what they were doing was either irregular or debauched. The rest of the group, now whispering their chant, had gathered round Aninka and Nick in a tight circle. Their hot breath misted on the air. Aninka lay naked upon the richly coloured rugs. Nick removed the rest of his clothes. He knelt between Aninka's parted thighs and entered her slowly. No detail was spared for the on-lookers, yet it did not disturb Aninka that people were watching. No part of herself was aghast or ashamed.

What followed was a surreal spectacle of heaving bodies and bizarre cries. At one point, Aninka closed her eyes, and opened them to find Ernie Brock's scarlet face behind Nick's shoulder. The weight of two men was upon her. She wrapped her legs around both of them, as if her limbs were suddenly twice their normal length. The pleasure experienced by her body was intense, unlike anything she'd felt before. It was s.e.x without emotion, purely physical, as if the commerce of bodies was delicious food and she was starving for it.

There came a moment of stillness, when she realised she was alone within the group. Rising unsteadily to her feet, she picked a weaving path among the writhing shapes around her. Othman had Serafina spreadeagled on the altar, and was f.u.c.king her with an expressionless face, standing between her dangling legs, staring at the wall. He noticed Aninka approaching and withdrew. You want her? It's good. Taste.' The girl's skinny, white body looked like something made from icing sugar, friable and sweet. Aninka licked the concave belly, then let Othman drag her by her hair to sample more secret flavours. There was a candle of pain inside her as he pierced her body from behind. His fingers dug into her breast like claws. She bit the girl, and the resulting scream sounded like a heavenly choir. Lifting her head, she bayed out a string of words. It was a guttural croak, like vomiting sound. Dushmata, Dushhakta, Dush Ahu!'. And there was a greater foreign presence in the room with them, enveloping them all in a mist of ancient hungry l.u.s.t and excitement.

Othman thrust Aninka away, and raising his arms, began to shout out the words of an invocation. Angra Mainyu! Dushhavarshta!'

Serafina's thin body wriggled and jerked upon the altar.

It's coming down, Aninka thought, the first coherent thought she'd had for what seemed like hours. She sensed something forming around them, enveloping the house. It was like a swirling black hole, a void, the gateway to the abyss.

Why, Pev? she thought sadly, and his voice answered her, the voice she knew, from before this terrible night.

The gate. I have to go beyond the gate. Cannot stop. Have to... The pain, the sorrow of grief, the love, my love, There was more, but a sudden movement eclipsed the words from Aninka's mind.

Wendy had leapt to her feet, and was bursting out of the melee of struggling bodies, her body shaking with hysterical laughter. She began to extinguish all the candles in the room, her voluptuous body an amorphous white shape flitting in slow motion from quarter to quarter. Soon, everything was in darkness, but for the muted glow of the incense bowls. Serafina began to howl, to sing, to chatter. She squeaked like a rodent, barked like a b.i.t.c.h. Aninka's head was suffused with an excruciating pain. I have to get out! She sensed then, in a shining moment of clarity, exactly what was happening. Othman was about to sacrifice Serafina to the being whose essence was beginning to envelop the temple. Was he truly so greedy for power?

Why, Pev, why?' Aninka's voice was a hoa.r.s.e scream.

It is the only way,' he answered, his voice like a coil of thick smoke through the dark. The gate is closed to me, but there are others who are stronger, who can open it for me.'

But not this! You can't summon this..!' Aninka's voice tailed off. She had no idea what Othman meant about gates. All she knew was that something terrible was about to happen. A string of words whispered through her mind, felt rather than thought. The False One, he's coming... Deep within her, an instinct screamed out in a desperate voice: Flee, or it will suck in your soul!'

Somehow, she found the strength to pull herself away from Othman and the binding power he was creating. She fell heavily to the floor, uttering a cry of pain as she twisted her ankle. Crawling, she hauled her body, which suddenly felt too heavy to move, towards the door of the garage, visible only as a darker rectangle in the dim light. It seemed a thousand clawing fingers sought to hold her back, snagging her hair, raking the skin of her back and b.u.t.tocks. The door didn't seem to be getting any closer, and Aninka began to weep in fear and frustration. Oh Great Shem, help me! Help me!' Then, the door was in front of her and with stiff, unwieldy fingers, she managed to turn the handle and push it open. With a final burst of effort, she threw herself across the threshold. She wanted to curl up and sleep, cover her head, but knew she needed more distance between herself and what was happening behind her. With her limbs shrieking in agony, she dragged herself up the short corridor that led back to the main body of the house. She could see a light ahead, too bright. She could hear the hum of kitchen appliances. Eventually, she reached the sanctuary of the kitchen, which was filled with the comforting aromas of cooking. Here, Aninka lay down, gibbering, upon the tiled floor, curling into a foetal position in an attempt to protect herself from what she knew was coming down to the house. Her throat was dry, and it hurt her to sob. She put her hands hard against her ears, screwed up her eyes. No sound. No light. Only darkness.

She must have awoken only a couple of hours later. Her head was astoundingly clear. For a brief moment, memories came hurtling back, but she dismissed them. With utter calm, she stood up and went naked to Wendy's bedroom, where she took a skirt and jumper from the wardrobe. Pausing only to retrieve her handbag from the dining room, she walked out of the house barefoot, closing the front door gently behind her, and went to her car. The clock on the dashboard told her it was three a.m. Her mind blank, Aninka drove carefully home. She turned on the radio, hummed along to vacuous pop songs.

Back at her flat, she took a long shower, then dried her hair and went to bed. It was impossible to sleep. Revolting images of what had happened a.s.sailed her mind, memories she had to banish with force. She did not want to think about it. At five o'clock, she glanced at her bedside alarm. Pev, where are you? She chided herself for the thought even as it formed in her brain. He had revealed himself as false, yet still some part of her felt it was something from the past, something too dreadful to be articulated, which impelled him to do the things he did. She loved him. She could not help it. There must be an explanation for why he needed to call upon the False One. She would listen without judging him, if he'd only come to her. Now!

He'll not come here, a cruel, cold voice whispered in her mind, You are nothing to him. You never were. You'll never see him again.

Aninka groaned and turned away from the clock. The voice, for all its cruelty, spoke the truth. She knew it did.

Aninka didn't get out of bed until three o'clock in the afternoon. She'd heard her ansaphone take a couple of calls from her agent and Noah. Had Noah somehow picked up on what had happened to her? She hadn't heard from him for weeks. Her body and mind felt numb, which allowed her to examine the previous night's events with a certain sang froid. Her people had a name for Othman's kind: Anakim. Users, berserkers, abusers. He was sick. People like the Marks and their friends were just playthings to such a man. Should she call Wendy? It was perhaps significant that no-one had bothered to get in touch with Aninka herself. Did they scorn her for walking out on their ritual antics, or did they feel ashamed? Was she regarded as Othman's ally or a traitor? Aninka stared at the phone by her bed. She repeated Othman's number in her head, but could not force herself to call him and leave a message. Yet still the thought plagued her, despite her earlier conviction she'd never see him again: would he call her soon?

At half past three, Aninka got out of bed and shrugged herself into the balm of a silk dressing-gown. She inspected her body for bruises, found a mark upon her hip. In the kitchen of her flat, she took a half-empty magnum of champagne from the fridge, found it flat, but drank it anyway, from the bottle. She wandered into her workroom, still swigging, and threw a rag over the painting on the easel. It looked like him. Then, she sat under the floor by the window and spent a few cleansing minutes crying. This, she told herself pa.s.sionlessly as she wept, was a purge. She had loved him, given him her heart, and he had only disgusted and disappointed her in return.

After the release of weeping, she phoned Noah back. As the line purred in her ear, she wondered whether she was going to tell him anything. This sort of thing should be reported, but she shrank from mentioning to any authorities her own involvement in the proceedings. Noah was out. His voice drawled out of the machine at the other end of the line.

Returned your call,' Aninka said, after the tone. I'm in. Where are you?'

The living room smelled stale. She opened a window, let in the city sounds. Then came a few minutes' recrimination. She should have realised Othman was off the rails. His behaviour had provided a casebook of warning signals. How stupid to be glamorised by his beauty. Stupid, stupid. Had she learned nothing from life? Irritated with herself, she flopped down onto the sofa and picked up the TV remote control. Blankly, she watched the news; wars here, famine there, political bickering. Was nothing good happening in the world, nowadays? She called Noah again, said, I need to speak to you,' to the machine. She would not contact any of her other cousins, because she didn't feel able to cope with their outbursts, and there was no way she could speak to anyone at the moment without saying something, something, about last night.