by D B Nielsen
He’d finally managed to get my attention back on the zodiac.
Somehow regaining my scattered wits, I questioned, ‘Uh, sorry? My bad. Did you say a cosmic tree?’
‘Yes, a cosmic tree,’ Finn confirmed, his expression serious, ‘It unites three planes of existence; the Heavens through its branches, the Earth through its trunk, and the Underworld through its roots.’
I gaped at him. ‘Like the Tree of Life?’
He nodded, explaining in melting honeyed tones, ‘The fact that the ancient Egyptians placed the stars of the Ursa Major in the sole hind of a bull is highly significant – it suggests a relationship between that constellation and the Pleiades in Taurus. The celestial relationship between these stars is tied to the notion of the axis mundi whose unhinging destabilises the universe and causes a variety of catastrophes; cataclysms which destroy the world. It is unclear whether this will lead to a new age, a rebirth of the universe, or not. But if you look closely you’ll see Draco the Serpent entwined around a tree that is anchored by the heavenly bull.’
‘Serpent? Like in the Garden of Eden?’ I demanded.
Finn’s face was inscrutable, he merely shrugged in response. ‘Perhaps. Who can tell? It is said to symbolise how the Pleiades, together with Ursa Major, govern the cycles of time, including the cyclical destruction and rebirth of the universe.’
My mouth felt suddenly dry and I swallowed hard. ‘But it’s just a myth, right?’
He fixed me with a solemn look. ‘Common to many cultures and religions is the link between the Pleiades and the cyclical death and rebirth of the cosmos. It is more than simply a myth for those who believe. This can be seen in Judaism where a passage in the Talmud connects the Pleiades with the Great Flood; when Yahweh wished to create the flood, he simply removed two stars from the Pleiades.’
‘So what does the Round Zodiac represent? And what does it have to do with me?’ I asked again, looking past him up at the ceiling.
‘Look closely at the Round Zodiac. Feast your eyes upon it,’ he commanded, his voice low and alluring as he stepped closer and leant into me, ‘Try to see that which is simultaneously both visible and invisible, there and not there.’
Almost hypnotised, I complied, waiting expectantly for what would come next. I strained my eyes, looking beyond. As with Satis House, I imagined stripping away the veneer to see what lay hidden beneath. And soon, delicate details on the sandstone slab sharpened, while other images began to shift and blur. Shimmering behind the glamour like iridescent light, symbols began to take shape.
And suddenly I was plunged into a world of sound.
The cosmos emitted a pure musical tone. Harmonious. Lyrical. The universe was set vibrating, resonating. Every noise, uttered word, and conversation was slowly turned to perfect pitch as if I were holding a tuning fork. The tuning of perfection. A symphony complete that made the heart want to weep, to bleed. It was as if I had been deaf my entire life and now was filled with sweet, concordant music.
But it was all too much.
Everyone was speaking all at once – a cacophony of sound. I could understand every language spoken in my vicinity as if I were a native speaker. My senses were overwhelmed. The ground unexpectedly heaved up from under my feet, rising to greet me.
‘Finn,’ I said, hand outstretched imploringly as I crumpled into him.
He caught me in his arms as before, on the night of the Akitu festival, as if he made a habit of catching girls falling into his arms on a regular basis. He swung me up into a fast embrace, cradling me against his chest, and murmured something beneath his breath which sounded very much like “Rest now”.
My head tipped back, eyelids fluttering heavily, long chestnut hair spilling over his forearm, as I felt the darkness close in around me. I tried to resist, tried to focus on his angelic face, his pale beauty – but his eyes seemed to burn so brightly they engulfed everything; the blackness of his pupils against the intense blue of his irises, hypnotic and unfathomable. Above Finn’s head, the zodiac spun out of control – silver-violet symbols and stars cartwheeling across the now dark ceiling of the Louvre.
Then the bottom dropped out and everything slid into chaos – spiralling, whirling, falling.
And I was falling too. Even with Finn’s arms around me, I couldn’t stop myself from plummeting into the dark abyss that greedily pulled me under.
THE SECRET CHAMBER
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Seven are they! Seven are they!
In the Ocean Deep, seven are they!
Battening in Heaven, seven are they...
Nor male nor female are they,
But are as the roaming windblast...
Knowing neither mercy nor pity,
They hearken not to prayer or supplication.
They are as horses reared amongst the hills...
They are the Children of the Underworld!”
Breaking the surface like a deep sea diver coming up for air from the inky depths below, swimming against the pressure of the surrounding fog as it tightly enclosed me, I tried to open my eyes; my lids feeling like they had been permanently glued together.
I became aware first of the stillness. The harsh clamour of voices had receded, giving way to sepulchral silence, and I felt the pervasive chill of marble seep through my woollen overcoat as I lay on the cold, hard floor. I could have been placed in my grave for all I knew – the hushed, wintry atmosphere like that of a tomb or the nave of a chapel – as my eyelids slowly fluttered open.
Looming above me was a colossal human-headed winged bull.
‘Don’t be frightened.’ A strong masculine voice said, hovering close by.
Struggling to sit up, I asked, ‘Where am I?’
Finn, who had been crouching down beside me, in one graceful motion swiftly leapt to his feet to offer me a hand up. ‘You’re in the Richelieu Wing of the Louvre. In Near Eastern Antiquities.’
‘What happened?’ I demanded, seeing that we were alone in the empty gallery except for the ancient relics and monuments that stood sentinel like the winged-bull which towered over me.
‘Not surprisingly, you passed out on me. I brought you here rather than having well-intentioned but interfering busybodies offering their assistance,’ his voice held a hint of amusement. ‘How are you feeling now?’
‘Like hell,’ I said, accepting his outstretched hand and rising to my feet, ‘In fact, I thought I was in hell. It’s freezing in here.’
‘Ancient Mesopotamian artefacts don’t seem to attract as much attention from tourists as those from Ancient Egypt for some reason. These halls always seem to be empty,’ Finn mused, his expression one of contemplation, as if he couldn’t fathom why this would be the case, ‘And you’re wrong, by the way.’
I gave him an appraising look. ‘Wrong about what?’
Finn smiled enigmatically. ‘Wrong about it being like hell in here.’
I had been in the process of brushing myself off, deliberately ignoring the spark of attraction that flowed between Finn and me at the touch of his hand, but at his words I froze.
Taking several long, cleansing breaths, I asked cautiously, ‘You’ve been to hell? Like Buffy when she rescued Angel?’
The intensity of Finn’s blue eyes belied the calm in his voice. ‘No, I have not been to hell. And I do not know who this Buffy is, but I doubt that she has been there either – especially to rescue an angel. Only the Fallen are condemned to Tartaros and they are beyond rescuing.’
‘She’s a vampire slayer and Angel isn’t an angel but a vampire whom she falls in love with – they’re characters from a classic TV series,’ I reflexively murmured in response, aware of how foolish I must have sounded to him.
Then, pausing for a moment to collect myself under his cool blue scrutiny, recollecting what Sage had told me about Semyaza’s escape from Tartaros, I added accusingly, ‘How do I know you’re not from hell? Your “brother” certainly is! He’s totally damaged! And, besides, I know nothing about you! You
could kill me here and dispose of the body! There are enough mummies in this place that no one would ever know the difference!’
Finn’s smile was bittersweet. ‘Because the Shedu would protect you from me if that were the case.’
‘What? Who are they?’ I asked in bewilderment, reflexively looking over my shoulder, wondering if I had missed something or someone, some other Nephilim spying on me.
Finn arched his brows in surprise. ‘The Shedu. For the daughter of an eminent historian, you’re very ill-informed.’
I felt my face flame in anger and humiliation but the arrogant Emim was not finished. ‘Look up and you will see the Shedu, your guardians.’
My guardians?
My lips parted in surprise as, immediately forgetting my embarrassment, I looked up at the monumental sculptures towering above me.
The human-headed winged bulls, more than four metres high and equally wide, were carved from a single stone block. The head of the sculpture, the only human element that I could see, had a man’s bearded face with very precisely modelled features. The wide, slightly slanted eyes were quite expressive, framed by thick eyebrows meeting above a prominent nose. The mouth, surmounted by a thin moustache, was curved upward in a kindly smile. Even its carved stone body – depicting that of a bull with the wings of a bird of prey – had been precisely rendered by the sculptor.
The Shedu wore a starred tiara which was flanked by horns and topped by feathers. It was a mystical beast, having not four but five legs – so that it looked as if standing still when seen from the front, and as if walking when seen from the side. It was an awesome sight to behold, these two stone sculptures dwarfing me with their imposing proportions.
‘Quite something, aren’t they?’ Finn remarked, following my gaze, ‘Though, of course, they’re not nearly as impressive as the Cherubim.’
I wished that I was still lying down or, at least, seated on the solid marble floor because I felt like my legs had suddenly turned to jelly.
‘What do you know about the Cherubim?’ My voice was almost inaudible.
‘The Guardians of the Garden?’ he responded, his voice strong and self-assured, ‘I know a bit. Every Nephilim does, of course. I know that the Shedu originate from the Cherubim. The Shedu protected the kings of Mesopotamia and the Wise One. They’re related to the other carved deities, the Lamassu. Perhaps, to be more accurate, the Lamassu are second only in the angelic hierarchy to the Seraphim, said to have a king’s head, a lion’s body, and eagle’s wings.’
‘Wait a minute!’ I demanded anxiously, my voice shrill even to my own ears, ‘You’re saying that these Shedu are like divine beings or angels or something? So there really is an angel hierarchy? I thought that was just a myth.’
‘Oh, there’s an angel hierarchy, all right,’ Finn assured me, ‘They’re members of a divine army after all, and each has an appointed role to play. Take the Lamassu, for example. You may have seen the Lamassu depicted on the Megiddo Ivories, which are described in Ezekial’s dream of the Chariot of Yahweh. According to the stories of the Israelites, they also sat facing each other, guarding the Atonement Cover or, as it’s sometimes called, the Mercy Seat on the Ark of the Covenant.’
I shook my head as if to clear it. ‘And these Shedu are here to protect me?’
Finn merely bowed his head in affirmation.
‘No way!’ I denied in disbelief. ‘That’s not possible!’
‘You must, of course, believe what you will,’ he said, his beautiful face impassive, as if it too was carved in stone, ‘but that does not make it any less the truth.’
‘But they’re like inanimate objects, carved by humans thousands of years ago! They’re only a depiction of the real thing, right?’ I protested childishly, refusing to yield.
His eyes narrowed a little, turning darker, like a storm coming across the clear blue of the ocean.
‘Saffron, you do not see because you do not choose to see. That is why I am assisting you. You must open your eyes to the world around you.’
Finn was virtually accusing me of being little better than a Muggle!
‘The Round Zodiac is but merely one path. There are other places, other paths,’ he said softly.
‘What the hell? Other places? Do you mean there’s a world within our world – my world – that I never knew about?’ I stared at him.
‘That’s exactly what I am trying to tell you. Heaven, Earth and the Underworld are joined together.’
Finn was almost restating what Gabriel had told me in the myths of the Seven Sages and the Mesopotamian view of the world. But I hadn’t really taken it seriously for hard fact.
‘When you are ready, you will see. There are pathways. Gates. Portals. Places providing passage. In time these will be known to you.’ He extended one pale, slender, long-fingered hand towards the monumental sculptures. ‘In this world, the Shedu are condemned to myth. In this world, their presence is not missed.’
A thousand questions filled my mind but I didn’t pursue them. I didn’t want to be even more confused than I already was. There was so much to take in. My thoughts were spiralling erratically and I felt suddenly chilled again.
‘I heard everything when I looked closely at the Round Zodiac. Just like you said I would,’ I began nervously, clasping my hands together to stop myself from reaching out to Finn to brush back the lock of dark hair falling into his eyes.
‘It isn’t the first time you’ve heard the voices call to you,’ he said, ‘but you haven’t been listening properly. All I did was to help you focus, like tuning a radio to find the right station.’
‘But how do I control it?’ I asked, ‘When I walk out of here will I hear a million voices clamouring for my attention? I think I’d go mad!’
His voice seemed to come from a place far away, almost as if it was carried to me on the winds. ‘The Children of the Underworld call you, Saffron. It is a great gift and one you should not hesitate to answer.’
I took a step back from him, hazel eyes narrowing dangerously. ‘The strange, foreign voices? Is that where they come from? The Underworld?’ I took a deep, shuddering breath forcing myself to remain calm before continuing, ‘Is that what you meant by claiming that I was a Daughter of Ishtar? Did you know, even then, that this would happen?’
Finn ignored my question, asking several of his own. ‘Did you not want for it to happen? Can you tell me honestly that you have not envied your sister her connection to the Seed? Or with its Keeper?’
With this last question, his voice fell softer, deeper, becoming sinister.
My head reared back sharply as if I’d been struck and I gave a slight shiver – but one of rage not of fear. I had been about to agree with him, recognising an element of truth in his words, a degree of jealousy in my sister’s involvement in the quest to see the Seed safely back to its origin. But now I was furiously angry with Finn’s misguided assumptions that I had some secret infatuation and longing for St. John, throwing him a look that could have stripped the paint from the walls.
‘What the hell! How dare you!’ I said fuming, feeling like doing some damage to that “pretty boy” face of his. ‘You know what? I don’t need your help! For your information, I happen to love my sister. And I certainly don’t envy Sage her fiancé.’
Finn went quite still then. I could tell from his reaction that I had shocked him. I could have sworn that even his heart failed to beat in that moment.
‘Her fiancé?’ he asked finally, his voice dropping low.
‘That’s what I said, didn’t I? Oh, is there finally something you didn’t know?’ I responded acerbically, throwing up my hands in a gesture of frustration. ‘What a tragedy! Such an epic fail!’
He barely seemed to notice me. Instead, he passed a hand over his eyes where darkening shadows had gathered, turning them a turbulent blue.
‘Her fiancé,’ he murmured to himself incredulously.
Finally becoming aware that I was still standing before him, his gaze narrowed and focus
ed upon me – tightly on my face, my swollen lips, my eyes – and I began to feel slightly flustered under the intensity of his regard.
I had intended to leave in anger. But, as always, the force of his personality and his angelic beauty persuaded me to a different course of action.
‘So you’re not in love with the Keeper of the Seed?’
I felt a spasm of irritation. First my mother with Gabriel. Now Finn.
‘What are you – daft? Mental? A total bonehead?’ I demanded, ‘Of course I’m not in love with St. John. I just told you that St. John is Sage’s fiancé. As in engaged. As in about to be married. What part of that don’t you understand?’
He leant forward, his eyes now so dark a blue that they were almost black in the emptiness of the shadowy gallery.
‘Oh, I understand perfectly,’ he said, his tone now mildly amused. ‘But do you?’
I scowled up at him as I took a step back. ‘Do I what?’
‘Do you understand what it is that you want?’
He stepped closer to me as he spoke, forcing me to retreat until I found my back pressed up against the stone monument that I had admired only moments before, ironically mirroring the event of the previous night.
I shook my head hesitantly. ‘What are you talking about? You’ve lost me. You constantly speak in riddles and I don’t understand you.’
‘Again, you do not see, because you do not choose to see, Saffron.’
This time when he said my name it was like a caress that tingled through me, electrifying every nerve ending in my body.
‘You make me forget, Saffron...’ His voice drifted off.
Staring up at him, I asked, ‘Forget what?’
But he ignored my question.
‘Is it so wrong?’ he mused again, speaking more to himself than to me.
I frowned in dismay. ‘What?’
‘Is it so terrible to want what you should not? To crave what you cannot have? Do you fear to seize what you desire? What is forbidden?’
I found the very breath strangled in my throat. Somehow our conversation had wandered down a different path and I was alarmed by the direction which it was now taking.
