again, or to go into snoring mode.
‘You’re a beautiful man, do you know that?’
Sabir turned towards Lamia, a quizzical expression on his face.
‘Your profile. It is very beautiful. Like Gary Cooper’s. That is the actor whose name I was trying to remember. That is who you look like from the side.’
Sabir was at a loss for words. No woman had ever spoken to him in that way before.
Lamia looked out of the window. The lights from the Cuota road played across her features, alternately darkening and lightening them every fifty metres. ‘I have never let a man kiss me. Did you know that also?’
Sabir gave a silent shake of the head. He didn’t want to break Lamia’s train of thought.
She turned to him. ‘Would you like to kiss me?’
Sabir nodded.
‘Then, when you wish it, I will not push you away.’
Sabir stared at her. Without even realizing he was doing it, he let the car slow down to a crawl.
He stretched out his right hand. Lamia snuggled herself towards him and rested her head on his shoulder. He kissed her hair, and squeezed her tightly against him. He was speechless. Quite incapable of uttering a word. His chest felt as if it were about to burst apart.
He drove like that for some time, with Lamia curled against him. He was aware that she was watching him. Aware that her eyes were playing over his face.
‘How did you know?’ he said at last.
She shook her head.
‘I wouldn’t have said anything. You knew that too?’
She nodded. Then she tensed inside the circle of his arm. ‘My face. It doesn’t disgust you?’
‘I like your face.’
‘You know what I mean.’
He raised his hand to touch her, but she shied away from him.
‘You promised you wouldn’t push me away.’
Lamia gave a deep sigh. Then she nodded, and let him touch her. Let him cup her face with his hand.
‘I’m going to stop the car and kiss you.’
Lamia glanced behind her. ‘And Calque?’
‘Fuck Calque.’
Calque was watching them from the shadows in the back of the car, a half-smile on his face.
50
‘I think you need to tell us about the names, Lamia.’
It was three o’clock in the morning and they were thirty miles from Kabah, at the Hopelchen intersection. Sabir was still driving, and Calque had chosen that moment to pretend to wake up.
Lamia glanced back at him. Her pupils seemed unnaturally large in the car’s interior gloom. There were no street lights any more, and for some time now they had been cutting through a seemingly endless section of wood and scrub, interspersed with the occasional plantation of blue agave and maize, and the odd slash-and-burn clearing intended for assarting or swidden farming.
‘What names do you mean?’
‘I’m talking about the names given to your brothers and sisters. There’s something odd there. Dakini, for instance? What sort of a name is that?’
In the last few hours Sabir had become so hyper aware of everything that concerned Lamia that now he even fancied he picked up a momentary hesitation he might not have noticed otherwise – a sort of physical stutter, as though, walking along an otherwise smooth pavement, she had inadvertently caught the toe of her shoe on a protruding paving stone.
Lamia tried to conceal her hesitation behind a sudden play of turning down the interior visor, opening the courtesy mirror, and then checking her hair and face. Seemingly satisfied, she snapped the mirror back into place. ‘The name is Tibetan. It means “she who traverses the sky”. Also a “sky dancer” or “sky walker”. A Dakini appears to a magician during his rituals. She carries a cup of menstrual blood in one hand, and a curved knife in the other. She wears a garland of human skulls, and against her shoulder, a trident. She has long wild hair and an angry face. When my mother first saw dakini’s face, she called her this. Dakinis dance on top of corpses, to show that they hold power over ignorance and vainglory.’
Sabir shot her a look. ‘You can’t be serious?’
‘Madame, my mother, is always perfectly serious in everything she does, Adam.’
‘Then the other names. What are they?’
‘A nawal is a Central American witch who can transform herself into whatever animal she chooses. She can be either male or female. Nobody can harm her, because whatever is aimed against her rebounds on the perpetrator. She can use her powers for either good or evil, depending on her whim. According to the Nahuatl, all of us are given familiar animals at birth. Certain nawal s or nagual choose at this time to transform themselves into jaguars or vampire bats. Then they can suck the blood from innocent victims at night, while they are asleep. The Jakaltek Maya believe that a nawal will punish any of their number who transgresses from their society and marry mestizos. That is a person of mixed blood. Not pure Indio.’
‘Your mother certainly has a way with her. You can believe that.’
‘Oni, my youngest brother, who is both a giant and an albino, is named after a Japanese demon, with claws, and wild hair, and of an enormous size. These demons have horns growing out of their heads. Their skin is always an odd colour. Red. Blue. In my brother’s case, an unnatural white. An oni has strength beyond strength and cannot be beaten. He is like a ghost. In European folklore, he would be likened to a troll.’
‘And the others?’
‘Asson is named after a sacred voodoo rattle. This rattle would be used by the Hougan priests and the Mambo priestesses during a vodoun ceremony. It will be decorated with beads and the bones of snakes. Alastor, his brother in real life, is named after the Chief executioner of Hades. He is the avenger of evil deeds – Zeus sometimes used him as an amanuensis. He can be the personification of a curse, similar, in some forms, to Nemesis. His name can also mean a scoundrel.’
‘Neat. Great names. Must be nice to be saddled with that all one’s life.’
‘My brother/sister Aldinach is a true hermaphrodite – Aldinach was originally an Egyptian demon who caused violent tempests, earthquakes, and natural catastrophes. He always appeared in the shape of a woman when he did these things. He was a ship-sinker, too.’
‘Well, they had to blame somebody.’
Lamia refused to be bated. She could see the men’s embarrassment at what she was telling them, and the manner in which she was telling it, but she was not about to let them off the hook now. ‘My brother Rudra was named after an Indian demon god. This god used arrows to spread disease. He could also summon up storms and natural disasters. His name can be translated to mean the “roarer”, or the “howler”, or the “wild one”, or simply the “terrible”. Rudra can also mean the “red one” – Nostradamus uses this nomenclature in some of his quatrains, if you remember. It was the equivalent for him of the Devil, or maybe of one of the Antichrists. Rudra might reasonably be viewed as a storm god by people who did not understand his true function.’
‘Which was?’
‘To cleanse things.’
‘Christ. Any more?’
‘Berith was an evil duke in the annals of demonology. He wears red clothing and has a golden crown on his head. He is the alchemist’s demon, because it is said that he can turn any metal into gold. He is also a notorious liar. Athame, the favourite sister I told you about, is named after the sword, or dagger, usually with a black or obsidian handle, used by priests and priestesses. The blade has a double-edge – both a positive and a negative if you like. There are also symbols on the knife. Curiously, though, the athame was not used for cutting but for channelling energy. Such a knife is mentioned in the Key of Solomon. My sister Athame is a dwarf. She is a good
