Scenting Hallowed Blood (5 page)

The side street, which led to
the wider road, where the bright hoardings stood and garishly
lit-shops, was dark and narrow: an effective camouflage. Who would
expect to find the square with its Garden beyond it? But at its end
was a small cafe, which opened very early in the morning. Sitting
in the Garden on occasions, Daniel had been able to watch the
side-door of the cafe and had seen people hurrying out of it to
march swiftly across the square to several of the office buildings.
Smartly-dressed people, whose minds were a blur of hurrying and
worrying. The cafe was like a door to the outside.

Daniel had a pound’s worth of
change in his pocket. Unconsciously, he slipped his hand into it
and fingered the coins. He could go down to the cafe, buy tea, sit
among people who lived real, mundane lives, and bask in their
frenetic warmth. It might be the first step to leaving the square.
He did not want to stay there forever.

Inside, the cafe was full of
people reading newspapers and eating breakfast. Some talked
together while others sat alone. The smell of frying bacon and
ketchup made Daniel salivate. He was hungry, properly hungry,
almost as if his body had been on shutdown for the three weeks he’d
been in the square and merely taking the step of entering the cafe
had woken up his system. Daniel sat down on a stool by the window,
where a shelf acted as a table. An empty plate smeared with red
sauce lay beside an over-flowing ashtray. The smell of stale
tobacco and fried food did not combine pleasantly. Someone had left
a newspaper, folded up, next to the plate. Daniel opened it out. It
felt as if he hadn’t seen a paper for years for he shied away from
looking at those which Emma brought back to the Rooms, in case he
found some mention of their disappearance. Now, after several
weeks, and away from the oppressive air of the Rooms, he dared to
confront the news. Had the world moved on without him?

As he began to turn the pages a
middle-aged woman in an overall came up to him. She had permed hair
and red lipstick, and her scarlet nails were long and looked hard.
She held a note-pad. ‘What’ll it be?’

Daniel stared at her for a
moment, wondering what significance her words held for him. Then he
came to his senses and said, ‘A cup of tea.’

The woman pulled a rueful face.
‘Sorry, love, it’s breakfast only at this time. You’ll have to
order something to eat.’ Her pen, a nibbled Biro, was poised over
the pad.

‘I’ve only got a quid,’ Daniel
said, realising the words were inadequate, but what else could he
say?

‘Toast is one pound, fifty.
That’s the cheapest on the menu.’ The woman put her pen into a
pocket of her overall. Her face became harder. Presently, she would
ask him to leave.

Daniel opened his mouth
helplessly. He didn’t want to leave yet. He wanted to remain in the
warmth, amid the sense of life. He wanted to read the paper and
listen to the conversations of the other patrons. ‘Could I have
half
a slice of toast?’ He smiled hopefully.

He could see the woman was
considering it, probably because he was young and pretty. He was
glad he’d bothered to keep himself clean. At least he didn’t look
like a vagrant.

‘Sorry, love.’ She took a step
back to give him room to stand up.

Daniel gave her a wistful smile
and slipped off the stool. Perhaps he could go back to the Rooms
and ask Emma for money. He knew she still had some cash left, even
though she had forbidden the rest of them from trying to use
cash-points, in case they left traces of their presence in the
city. She was careful with her money, but Daniel knew she had a
soft spot for him, and might give him a few pounds. Then Daniel
realised that once he was back in the Rooms, the freedom spell
would be broken and the idea of sitting in the cafe would no longer
seem attractive. Maybe he could come back another day. Even as he
was thinking this, he knew it wouldn’t happen. Today, the time had
been right, but something had blocked his plans. Something was
blocking all of their plans, he was sure.

Just as he was about to leave,
he heard a low-pitched woman’s voice say, ‘Excuse me.’ And
something made him pause.

The waitress turned round,
dismissing Daniel from her attention, and reached for her pen
again. Daniel saw an immaculately dressed young woman sitting at
one of the tables smiling up at the waitress. Her voice,
well-modulated and smooth as dark liquor, indicated she knew she
was attractive. She said, ‘Give the boy toast and tea. I don’t mind
paying.’

‘You sure?’ The waitress seemed
to doubt the stranger’s altruism.

The young woman nodded. ‘Yes.’
She turned her attention to Daniel. ‘Would you mind if I bought you
breakfast?’

Daniel shrugged, bemused.
‘Er... no.’ Something had slipped; one of the blocks had shifted.
He could feel it in his mind; huge dark slabs of impenetrable stone
grinding out of place.

‘Sit down,’ said the young
woman, and gestured elegantly at a free space on her table. Two of
the other places were taken by other young women, but both were
intent on reading magazines. They were not with his benefactress,
Daniel could tell. They were drab and empty, while she was alight
with energy. Her dark tailored suit looked expensive and she
smelled strongly of perfume, a sweet, exotic scent. She was very
beautiful, with a long, pale, well-sculpted face and dark brows.
Her hair hung straight and glossy down her back, very black.

Daniel sat down. ‘Thanks,’ he
said. ‘I do have money at home, but it was a bit of an impulse
thing coming in here.’

‘On your way to work?’ the
woman asked.

Daniel could tell by the tone
of her voice that she did not believe he had a job. Indignation
made him reply, ‘Yes.’

The woman raised her brows and
sipped from a mug of tea. She had an empty plate before her, on
which reposed a knife and toast crumbs. A blob of marmalade
remained on the edge of the plate. She was immaculate and feline,
which suggested aloofness, but her crumbs and her unused marmalade
warmed Daniel to her, made her seem human and approachable. ‘What’s
your line of business?’ she enquired.

‘I work in a conference hall.’
Daniel didn’t feel that was absolutely untrue. At one time the
Assembly Rooms must have been used as such.

‘And where’s that?’

Daniel wondered whether the
woman was simply making conversation or had some kind of sinister
interest in him. He recalled lurid stories of people who preyed on
those they considered runaways, turning them into drug addicts and
prostitutes. ‘Nearby,’ he answered vaguely.

The woman seemed to sense he
objected to her questions. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not prying. I just fancy
some company today.’

‘Oh.’ Daniel looked round
himself, unsure of what to say. Eventually, he thought of, ‘do you
work round here too?’

‘At the moment,’ she replied,
nodding, the tea mug held in two hands before her face. ‘But I
don’t know how long for.’

‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a researcher.’ The woman
smiled widely, a smile that seemed to invite Daniel in, while
excluding the rest of the world. Her friendliness and openness were
quite at odds with her rather forbidding appearance. Perhaps she
was a bit peculiar.

‘Oh, you must work in reference
libraries and places like that, then,’ Daniel said, hoping to sound
as if he knew what he was talking about. Why, over the past three
weeks, did he seem to be growing younger rather than older? At the
moment, he felt about twelve; gangly and wordless, rather than
eighteen, a newly matured young man.

‘That’s right,’ said the
woman.

The waitress came over with
Daniel’s tea and toast, and handed his benefactress a bill. ‘Thank
you,’ she said politely, putting it on top of her own next to her
plate. ‘Might I have another round of toast myself?’

As the waitress went back
behind the counter, Daniel’s new friend took out a cigarette. ‘Do
you mind?’ She had already lit up.

Daniel smiled and shook his
head. ‘No.’ It reminded him of Emma, who smoked as and when she
felt like it, with little regard for whether it was permitted or
not, or what other people might think.

‘My name’s Eve,’ said the
woman.

‘Daniel.’

For a split second, a strange
expression crossed the woman’s face. It was almost as if Daniel had
just confirmed his identity in her mind, and that she’d suspected
who he was. That, surely, was impossible. He bit into his toast,
and then felt his stomach churn. She must have seen the colour drop
from his face.

Hadn’t Emma drummed into
them a thousand times that other Grigori would undoubtedly have
pursued Shemyaza? Could Eve be one of his pursuers, lying in wait
here, day after day, hoping one of Shem’s companions might drop
in?
The implications were terrifying, suggesting that they knew
already where Shem and his companions were.

‘Are you all right?’

Daniel glanced at Eve, noticing
how her brows were creased in what seemed to be genuine concern.
‘What?’

‘You look like you just had a
hideous realisation!’ She laughed. ‘Are you thinking of how it’s
not very wise to get into conversations with strangers in the big,
bad city?’ She seemed to find it highly amusing that she might be
considered a threat. Daniel attempted to extend his senses to see
if he could pick up anything that smelled of danger, but he felt
too confused and hectic to concentrate.

‘It’s nothing. I — er — just
remembered something I’ve forgotten to do.’ Perhaps he should have
given a false name, just to be on the safe side.

‘I can tell you’re not a native
Londoner,’ Eve said, smiling, ‘but then neither am I. I’ve become
very adept at spotting foreigners to the city. If you live here
long enough, you change, and become like all the others.’ She
glanced at the other women sitting opposite and lowered her voice.
‘
They
would never talk to strangers. Only mad people talk to
one another in London if they’re not already friends.’

Eve’s second helping of toast
arrived and for a couple of minutes both of them ate in silence.
Then Eve poured herself another mug of tea from the
battered-looking stainless steel teapot that stood in the centre of
the table. Without asking, she topped up Daniel’s mug and said, ‘I
live alone in a flat, which is on the third floor of a building,
overlooking the river. There are birds living in the eaves. They
never go to sleep but bicker among themselves all night. Perhaps
they are starlings. I don’t know much about birds.’

Daniel shrugged. ‘Nor me.’

Eve smiled. ‘Still, it adds
character.’

Perhaps she wanted Daniel to
offer information about his own life. He was wary of doing that
because he still did not trust her. He realised he could not remain
in the cafe for much longer. He was beginning to feel uneasy.
Quickly, he drained his tea. ‘Thanks for helping me out. It was
kind of you.’ He stood up.

Eve tilted her head up at him.
‘Such good manners! Don’t worry, it was a pleasure. Perhaps some
time you could buy me breakfast too. I’m here most mornings.’

Daniel nodded. ‘OK.’ She was
becoming an oppressive presence; he was sure she wanted something
from him. There was a light emanating from her eyes, which
suggested she wanted him to stay, tell her things. ‘I must go,’ he
said awkwardly.

Eve blinked slowly and inclined
her head. ‘Of course. Have a nice day.’

Daniel grinned and, with
shrinking flesh, fled the cafe. Hurriedly, he immersed himself in
the shadows of the narrow street and had to force himself not to
run back to the square. At the same time, he felt strangely
buoyant. Contact with someone other than the bizarre occupants of
the Rooms and his damaged companions had been good for him. Perhaps
he
would
return to the cafe some other morning, but part of
the magic of this certain day would no doubt mean he would never
see strange Eve again. He hoped his meeting with her could be seen
as an omen and that, as the hours rolled out, other things might
happen which would enhance the uniqueness of the day.

Daniel walked up the alley beside the
Assembly Rooms and used his keys to open the two locks of the side
door. Inside, the atmosphere enveloped him like an amorous monster,
as if the oppressive air was thick with unseen strands of fur.
Already, it was more difficult to draw breath. A four-paned window
beside the door provided the only light, and it was heavily barred,
as well as not having been cleaned for years. Therefore the light
was bleak and dim, and stillness reigned. There were no sounds, and
even the noises of the city seemed to have disappeared.

A short narrow corridor led
into the house, its right side flanked by stairs. Daniel had to
walk down the corridor before he could double back on himself and
mount the stairs. The stairs were uncarpeted, so that Daniel’s
boots made a heavy sound on the rough, bare wood. The banister was
sticky, as if exuding a moist, sick ichor.

When he reached the first
floor, Daniel increased his pace. This was the area where he was
most likely to run into someone. On the second floor, he and his
companions had been given rooms to use; bare, dismal spaces that
ached with old regrets. Shem’s room was at the end of a dark,
narrow corridor, where all the light bulbs had blown. Daniel went
to see him every morning with the hope that one day, Shem might
respond to him in a positive way, and say something about the
future. Daniel knew that Emma had a similar ritual, but she was
more likely to exhort and complain, while Daniel was content simply
to sit and wait.

Reaching Shem’s door, Daniel
knocked politely. As usual, there was no response, so he opened the
door and walked into the room. Shem never locked himself in, and
did not seem to want to keep anyone out. The room was large, too
large, the bare boards of the floor inadequately covered by an
ancient carpet, colourless now. There was little furniture. In a
dark corner reposed a sagging double bed, on which the new,
paisley-covered duvet that Emma had bought lay scrunched up in a
marshmallowy pile. Before the vast empty fireplace stood a sofa
with broken legs, supported by old books and bricks. In front of it
there was a coffee table from the ‘Seventies — chipped — and an
enormous TV, which had been manufactured in the days when colour
transmission was still quite an innovative thing. The television
was on, but the sound was turned down; its picture veered
distinctly towards purple tones. Magazines and newspapers lay
scattered around, the bright colour photographs of the glossies
incongruous against the drab deadness of the room. Daniel knew Shem
sent Emma out to buy them for him. Was he really interested in what
went on in the world?