Scenting Hallowed Blood by Storm Constantine Page A

be half human, half Grigori. Lily could not
answer with any great honesty, for she had no comparisons to make,
but she made up twisted feelings and dark angst, which seemed to
satisfy her friend.
    Johcasta’s hair looked like
gold wire, and glinted metallically in artificial light. She wore
it tossed up on the top of her head, where it was loosely confined
with tortoise-shell combs. This abundant shining mass reminded Lily
of the hair on a doll she’d possessed as a child; unreal. She’d
always wished it could be possible to have hair like that.
    Johcasta made divining tools
from many different materials. Once, in the green darkness of her
room, where the windows were occluded by coloured blinds, Johcasta
had held out her white hand to Lily. A spill of semi-precious
stones lay there in the dry palm, gleaming dully. Johcasta cast
them onto the floor, where a fringed cloth lay.
    ‘This,’ said Johcasta, picking
up a dark stone, ‘is Mevanya. See her green veins. She has great
power, but her plans are always sabotaged by her jealousy, which is
insane.’ She placed the stone in Lily’s hand.
    ‘And this pink crystal is
Marmoset, the child of love. When he touches the red flank of
Garibaster, the angry, he bleeds and love turns to hate.’
    Lily handled Marmoset; the
stone felt warm to the touch.
    ‘And here,’ said Johcasta,
lifting a smooth tablet of turquoise, ‘is Fairuzi, a lady of
protection. Evil eyes close in her presence and she drains the
poison of Aglax, the black stone. Falling next to him, she drives
his negative influence to sleep.
    ‘Now look at this,’ said
Johcasta, and put a piece of cold green stone into Lily’s hand.
‘Mark her well, for it is the guardian, Zahtumuzgi, the Serpent
Lady. Scorpions, snakes and bees do her bidding, as do the spider
and the lizard, for good or ill.’
    Lily let the stones run through
her fingers.
    ‘There are more,’ said
Johcasta, indicating the fringed cloth. ‘I will tell you their
stories another time. Now gather them all and cast them, and I’ll
read you their messages.’
    Lily felt nervous of doing so.
She was sure Garibaster, Aglax and the less clement aspect of
Zahtumuzgi would gang up against her and pronounce evil omens.
Still, she was equally nervous of Johcasta’s displeasure, so threw
the stones onto the cloth.
    ‘Ah,’ said Johcasta, peering.
She rested her hand on one raised knee and leaned forward to
inspect the falling. ‘Zahtumuzgi stands alone, although her eyes
are directed towards the Maiden stone, Melandra, the lapiz lazuli,
which represents yourself. But the sick lover, the androgynous
pearl, rolls close behind you. He is Tarturophane, and his still,
stagnant waters can drag you down.’
    Lily had a sinking feeling. ‘Is
there anything good there?’
    Johcasta laughed. ‘But of
course, Aglax the black gives you his power of dark manipulation,
while Marmoset lingers back, wondering whether Tarturophane will
wither his feathers of love. But he will wait until the androgyne
swims away on a river of tears. What seems to be drained of all
hope will be restored.’
    ‘Oh,’ said Lily. She wasn’t
sure how good that sounded.
    Johcasta carelessly gathered up
the stones and jingled them loosely in her hand. ‘Each day brings a
new falling. Don’t be depressed. You’re probably affected by some
crisis within your group.’
    ‘Mm,’ Lily said, nodding
glumly. She was thinking of her twin brother, Owen. Ever since
they’d left Little Moor, he’d spoken little. The bright spark of
his being was eclipsed by memories so dark they could only be
repressed by catatonia. Peverel Othman had destroyed Owen and
ruined his relationship with Daniel. Guilt afflicted Lily, because
she knew she had assisted Othman. He had seduced her and she had
loved him, but that was no excuse. His dextrous love-making had
concealed the message ‘give me your brother’, and she had willingly
held Owen out to Othman, saying, ‘take him, take him, but still