Free Scenting Hallowed Blood by Storm Constantine

we should claim it for our own.’
    Meggie smiled, but it was clear
the smile did not come easily. ‘No.’ The word was final. Around the
table, other members of the Conclave murmured agreement.
    Tamara made a gesture. ‘It was
just a thought.’ She took a sip of tea, feeling absolved. Her
sisters had refused to listen to her ideas, but at least she’d made
the suggestion.
    After the Conclave had all gone
home, Betsy and Meggie remained seated at the table. Tom came in
and made them a fresh brew, before withdrawing discreetly to his
parlour.
    ‘I am concerned about Tamara,’
Meggie said. She wanted her sister’s opinions.
    ‘Hot and fiery,’ Betsy
conceded. ‘She has a thirst on her.’
    ‘A thirst for power. I can’t
keep a rein on her.’
    Betsy heaved her rounded
shoulders in a shrug. ‘Time will wear the edges off. The young ones
are excited by the Fallen One, and his frequency affects them all.
They’ll be high-spirited nags for a while.’
    Meggie smiled. ‘I’m almost sad
such feelings no longer affect me.’
    Betsy shook her head with a
frown. ‘I’m not.’ She took a sip of tea.
    Barbelo was waiting in Tamara’s
cottage, as Tamara had expected. She was sitting at the kitchen
table reading a magazine. Next to her hand lay a talisman carved
from serpentine; a double-headed serpent coiled around a staff.
Even before she took off her coat, Tamara felt drawn to pick it up.
Energy thrummed up her arms and she dropped the talisman
quickly.
    Barbelo directed a swift glance
at her. ‘You must learn to hold it, for you will use it
shortly.’
    Tamara rubbed her hands
together. ‘What for?’
    ‘To overcome the guardians at
Mermaid’s Cove.’
    Tamara felt a chill course
through her belly. She wondered whether Barbelo was already aware
of the conversation that had taken place at Meggie’s house. A
thread of unease wriggled through her, but she banished it firmly.
‘Why would I want to do that?’
    Barbelo smiled up at her. ‘We
must construct a thought-form there, which will attract the Shining
One. A thought-form of a woman.’
    You know! Tamara
thought. You know everything already! ‘I hardly think it’s
worth me telling you what happened tonight,’ she said, ‘seeing as
you seem to be aware of everything I saw or said!’
    Barbelo laughed. ‘Not
everything,’ she replied.
    ‘Who is the woman I saw in the
pool?’
    ‘Her name, I suspect, is
Ishtahar,’ Barbelo answered. ‘Sit down, Tamara. You have much to
learn this night.’

Chapter
Five
Stone-Scrying
    Emma stood in the doorway, looking, as
ever like a ‘Forties film star. Her pose — elegant, one hand held
up beside her chin holding a cigarette, her rolls of dark hair, her
red lips. She could have been anything between thirty and forty
years old. She was nearly one hundred and fifty — a Grigori
dependent, once left to rot by mentors who abandoned her, now
restored to vitality by Shemyaza.
    ‘If you’re not going to do
anything about yourself, at least do something about the boy,’ she
said.
    Shem was lazing on the sagging
sofa, staring listlessly at the TV. If the set had possessed a
remote control, Emma had no doubt he’d spend the entire day just
flicking from channel to channel, absorbing nothing. She was
beginning to feel out of her depth, what with trying to look out
for the kids and keeping her senses alert for pursuit. She feared
it greatly, having seen the shadowy figures who’d emerged onto the
High Place back in Little Moor, just at the time she’d managed to
drag Shemyaza away. Shem dismissed her anxieties. She had guessed
he simply did not care what happened to him now.
    ‘Which boy?’ he asked her,
without looking away from the screen.
    ‘You know very well which boy,’
Emma responded. She marched into the room and positioned herself
before the TV, forcing Shem to look at her. She didn’t like what
she saw in his face. He looked burned out. Perhaps she’d been mad
to flee Little Moor with him. There were