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given her a
prophecy. He spoke of a great serpent that slumbered beneath the
land of her father, and that in its sleep, it dreamed of her. He
spoke of a great sun chief who would come to her. As priestess of
the sea, she must lead him to his destiny. But he warned her that
her heart must be true, for only the light of love would lead the
sun chief to the great serpent.
    Listening to these words, in
the dark, before the sparking fire that burned for her day of
birth, Tamara had been filled with a sense of purpose and resolve.
As soon as she was able, she left her parents and moved back across
the ocean to Cornwall.
    It had taken her very little
time to discover the legends of the ancient land, and how they
aligned with the prophecy she had been given. The serpent had
chosen her. At night, she felt it stir in its sleep, and its dream
voice called out to her. Her passion and her sincerity enabled her
to infiltrate the Pelleth, and she had spoken openly about her
experiences, sure that the women would recognise her as the sea
priestess, the chosen one who would guide Shemyaza to the serpent.
But while the Pelleth had been happy to initiate her into their
group, they felt her passion was the misguided zeal of youth. The
Pelleth were all chosen ones, and would guide the Hanged One
together. Tamara had been bitterly disillusioned at first, and it
had hardened her. She realised she’d have to play the game their
way until the time came when they’d be forced to recognise what she
was. Her powers as a scryer and as a shamaness far outranked that
of any of her Pelleth sisters. In her mind, she was clearly
destined to be Meggie’s successor. But Meggie refused to
acknowledge Tamara’s abilities, and would not promise her
succession. Tamara felt this was not because Meggie doubted her
powers, but that she was, in Meggie’s eyes, a foreigner. Tamara
considered this discrimination small-minded and inexcusable.
Surely, the welfare of the Pelleth overcame such considerations?
Meggie would never admit that Tamara’s upbringing in America was
behind her decisions, however. She would talk about the need for
experience, and point out that if Tamara’s childhood absence from
Cornwall was really seen as a problem by the Pelleth, she wouldn’t
have been initiated into their ranks at all, never mind reach the
Conclave. Tamara did not believe these excuses.
    Now, Meggie’s opinions no
longer seemed to matter. Another had come into Tamara’s life, who
recognised the power within her. A dark sister had come, and in her
veins ran the royal blood of angels.
    Two days before, Tamara had
been outside her cottage, tidying autumn debris from her garden. A
woman had stopped at the gate, a tall woman wearing a pale raincoat
and a headscarf, her eyes hidden by dark glasses. Tamara had felt
the scrutiny before turning round, a prickle on the skin at the
back of her neck. She saw the long, ungloved fingers resting on the
gatepost, the red smile splitting the attenuated, white face. She
had known immediately: Grigori! And her heart had convulsed within
her. Like all of the Pelleth, Tamara knew where the Grigori
families lived around the area, and had watched the limousines with
darkened windows gliding in and out of the gates of their estates.
Sometimes, she had seen tall, charismatic men and women in shops or
pubs, whom she’d been sure had been Grigori. As a rule, they tended
to avoid the local community, for the native Cornish were attuned
to their frequency, and would undoubtedly recognise them, if not
for exactly what they were, then as being unusual or fey. Quietly,
Tamara had been calling out to the Grigori for some months. She’d
never been truly convinced they would heed her call, but she’d had
no doubt at least some of them had heard it. And now: the response.
The woman at the gate knew her measure. She was a powerful
creature, a daughter of a powerful family, yet here she was, in the
flesh, cool and seductive as a ghost of desire. Tamara