The Black Madonna (The Mystique Trilogy)

by Traci Harding

  A massive demon manifested before me, taking the form of the Grim Reaper. His facial features could not be seen beneath his hooded cloak that fell to the ground, but his hands were skeletal.

  Toll, he demanded.

  ‘Name it,’ I replied.

  Your singing voice, he said gravely.

  Emmett wondered if this was a joke. ‘Is Death thinking of going into the entertainment business?’ he asked.

  ‘The high resonance of my song drives low-frequency beings insane,’ I explained.

  With this toll, the Nefilim would feel confident that they had stripped me of all my weapons. Due to the lack of cosmic light in Irkalla, my psychic skills were useless. However, I had a secret weapon that my adversaries had overlooked; it was hidden in the last place the Nefilim would ever consider—my heart.

  ‘Take it,’ I replied.

  Emmett gripped my arm. ‘That will be a sacred gift lost,’ he whispered, imploring me to reconsider.

  ‘A small price to pay for a paradise found.’

  The demon gave a wave of his huge hand and Emmett was cast aside. Death lowered his sickle around me and encouraged me closer. Sing your last note, angel.

  I breathed in deeply, almost retching at Death’s stench, then released the highest, purest note I could reach.

  With a howl of agony, Death snatched the sonic from me. The beautiful note ended abruptly and my enlightening song was forever silenced. The demon gave a menacing laugh of victory as he released me.

  I moved to join Emmett and was touched to find tears streaming down his face. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked.

  ‘That note.’ He shook his head, unable to express himself fully. ‘I know it—’

  Irkalla welcomes you, Death said, cutting Emmett short, O self-proclaimed saviour of the Nefilim—

  ‘I have come for the Anunnaki!’ I corrected. ‘So save your prophetic speeches for someone who cares and open the gates.’

  Death vanished in an infernal huff, and the huge glowing gates to the seventh plane of hell ignited before us in a fiery blaze.

  ‘Awesome,’ muttered Emmett, trailing behind me as I headed for the dark tunnel that led into Irkalla’s courtroom.

  ‘My relatives like to put on a good show,’ I replied.

  ‘I was referring to you.’

  The comment made me smile, but I didn’t look back. I had cleared a path to my objective; it was time to focus.

  ‘Stay close,’ I advised.

  ‘My very thought.’ He took hold of my hand; his own was freezing.

  ‘You’re so warm.’ Considering my naked state he found this surprising. ‘How come?’

  I looked at him as we passed through the gateway, noticing the mist on his breath and that he was wearing his jacket. ‘I can’t say.’

  ‘I thought hell was supposed to be hot?’

  ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read,’ I said. ‘Hell is a state of living without cosmic light, without which there is no warmth, no love and no illumination.’

  ‘Now that makes sense,’ Emmett conceded, his teeth chattering as we entered an area of deepest shadow. Not even the golden glow of the walls and floor made this entranceway inviting; a foreboding sense of death, oppression and danger hung in the dank air, urging every molecule of one’s being to retreat. Then the cries of the lost souls that inhabited this realm began to filter through to us. Help us, they begged, screamed, wept.

  ‘Look.’ Emmett was drawn to look more closely at the Orme wall glowing alongside of us, the surface of which had become transparent to reveal large holding tanks crammed with lost souls. Many of them were tiny newborns, wailing in torment.

  ‘So many babies,’ he said in an anguished tone. ‘What could they have possibly done to be stuck here with the damned?’

  ‘These souls are not the damned,’ I explained. ‘The damned fragment upon death, leaving nothing to be tortured. These are the souls of the human sacrifices carried out by the Nefilim, the Dracon and the Illuminati through the ages in order to summon demons to do their bidding and give them power over mortals. All these babies did was to be born to women who sacrificed them to the dark arts in exchange for worldly power. Because these souls were murdered, they are not damned, for they have not sinned; rather, they are cursed, and as all curses can be lifted, they may yet be released from this eternal darkness. Until then, the demons of the subplanes thrive on their suffering.’

  Emmett brushed tears from his eyes. ‘Our world sucks!’ he said. ‘How could we let this happen?’

  ‘Don’t let the negativity of this place get to you,’ I advised. ‘You’ve been doing so well.’

  He was becoming angry now, wanting to make someone pay. ‘But—’

  ‘Just know that the time when this behaviour will no longer be tolerated is fast approaching,’ I said confidently. ‘I am the herald of their salvation.’

  ‘How, Kali?’ he appealed. ‘How can you fight such pure evil?’

  I smiled, sympathetic to his grief and doubt. ‘With pure love, of course. And now you must summon all the love inside you and wear it as a shield, for pure unconditional love for all beings, good and evil, is your only chance of salvation in Irkalla. Don’t lose faith.’

  He obviously saw the truth in what I was saying, for he shook off his negativity and found a smile. ‘I have faith in you, Kali.’

  I placed a hand on his shoulder, proud of him. ‘And I have faith in you, Emmett Rich.’

  ‘I’m touched,’ added a third voice. It was Erragal, Lord of the Underworld.

  I looked up to see that the passage of lost souls was morphing into the great courtroom of Irkalla. Its perimeters could not be seen as the walls and ceiling were consumed by darkness. Emmett and I were standing on a raised platform above an abyss that dropped into nothingness. The space around us was alive with demon activity; we couldn’t see the Underworld inhabitants but could sense their ominous mass circling. Across the void, on a much larger raised platform, were the thrones of Irkalla, upon which sat Erragal and Ereshkigal, today wearing their youthful human personas of Jeb Savage and Co-co Yamamoto.

  These forms had been rendered useless by my recent deeds in the physical world, but the staff of Amenti were in the process of altering time, which meant history would change and these human forms would once again be of value to the Nefilim. If they had realised this, then they must know what my fellow staff members were up to. How they knew was another question.

  Suspended above the two thrones, secured to a metal cross by metal wrist and ankle bands, was Killian Labontè.

  ‘They want to use you as bait for someone named Castor,’ he yelled to me. ‘Something to do with Montauk and expanding a wormhole sy—’

  Erragal waved his hand and Killian fell silent. I could see his mouth moving still, but could not hear a word.

  ‘You’ll have plenty of time to chew the fat once our business is concluded,’ Erragal told me.

  Why Castor in particular? I wondered, then realised the answer was simple. The Rod of Power. For the rod had the power to create paths through time, provided you knew exactly where you wished to go. But none of the Nefilim would be able to wield the mighty tool of the Elohim; only the Black Madonna had the twelve-strand DNA required to fully control the rod’s awesome power. So what could my lost kindred possibly hope to do with the treasure once they had obtained it?

  ‘My business in Irkalla is with Ill,’ I said aloud. ‘If he has the guts to come forth and stand before me himself.’ I would not expose my secret weapon until I had the Nefilim ruler within my sights.

  ‘My Lord Ill could do as you ask,’ Erragal proffered, ‘but as your friend here,’ he motioned to Killian, ‘is his next embodiment, my lord would have to drain the mortal’s vital fluids to obtain his life force. Instead, in his great generosity, Ill has decided to give you the chance to negotiate for this man’s eternal soul.’

  I attempted to show indifference. ‘And why should I place this man’s soul above all the other souls
on Earth?’

  Erragal and his consort began to laugh, highly amused by my response. ‘She doesn’t know,’ he managed amid his hysteria.

  ‘You suspect that my prince lies dormant in this human,’ I observed. ‘Why would you think so?’

  ‘He has the marker.’ Erragal waved his hand again, and a mass of demons ripped open Killian’s shirt to reveal the pendant identical to the one Emmett wore.

  But how could the Nefilim have known about the pendant at the time Killian was kidnapped? My concern grew; that information had come directly from Levi’s unconscious to me—was it possible we had a traitor on staff? How were the Nefilim obtaining such inside information?

  I turned back to Emmett, experiencing déjà vu from my encounter with the demon of Denial.

  Emmett offered up the first explanation that came into his head. ‘Killian must have had it copied…he got me stoned, I crashed out…he could have done anything.’

  Erragal removed the silencing spell in time for us to hear Killian’s vehement reply.

  ‘That’s bullshit!’ he insisted. ‘This pendant has been in my family for generations! What do you think initially sparked my curiosity in my bloodline?’

  ‘Your father’s one of them!’ Emmett said, pointing to the Underworld rulers.

  ‘He wasn’t always one of them,’ Killian replied, tears spurting from his eyes. ‘Please believe me, Tamar, you’re being deceived.’

  ‘By him!’ Emmett was quick to point the finger back at Killian. ‘Up until a few days ago, these two, ‘ he indicated our hosts, ‘were his best friends!’

  ‘These creatures aren’t my friends!’ Killian spat back. ‘They devoured my friends!’ He hung his head and began to weep.

  The true pendant held a small fragment of Mathu’s form and thus would radiate with his life essence; once I held both pendants in my hand I would know which one was authentic, no psychic skill required. However, if I attempted to discover the truth now, it would expose my prince to our enemies. Whichever of these young men was not the lucky incubator would be immediately disposed of. Until the Nefilim knew the truth, both Emmett and Killian were safe.

  ‘Well, princess, it seems one of your suitors is lying to you,’ Erragal taunted. ‘And with no cosmic light in Irkalla to support your psychic powers of deduction, I can’t imagine how you plan to figure out which one. However, as I’m feeling benevolent today, I’m going to allow the three of you some time alone to figure out which of these mortals will be Ill’s new persona, and which will get served to our Dracon for supper. Fair enough?’

  ‘Don’t you dare leave!’ I demanded, so tempted to use a show of force to support my will.

  ‘You’re not really in a position to negotiate, Your Worshipfulness!’ Erragal laughed as his demons, bearing huge Orme blocks, closed in from every side.

  Don’t allow them to force your hand, I cautioned myself, as Killian was released from his cross and thrown in the impenetrable golden room with us. A huge Orme block crashed down above us to enclose us completely.

  ‘You lying sack of shit!’ Emmett took a flying jump at Killian and the fists started flying.

  These two had been dying to rip into each other for so long that I thought it best to let them expend some of their frustration before I attempted to get any sense out of them.

  When they had exhausted themselves and were taking a breather to nurse their wounds, I asked for their pendants, which they both willingly handed over.

  ‘Why are you naked?’ Killian asked at last. ‘Not that I’m complaining.’ Despite his banter, he attempted to keep his eyes from straying below my shoulders, as did Emmett.

  ‘In the attempt to save your worthless arse, the demons that guard the seven gates of Irkalla stripped her of more than just her clothes,’ Emmett informed his rival.

  ‘So I see.’ Killian brushed a hand over my bald scalp, sorry for my loss. ‘You did this for me, Tamar?’

  ‘Ha,’ Emmett laughed, ‘you wish!’

  ‘I have other business in Irkalla,’ I advised, before turning my attention to the pendants. As I focused on the separate pieces I was enthralled to feel Mathu’s essence so close; the only trouble was, I was detecting an equal amount within each of the pendants. ‘That’s odd,’ I said.

  ‘What is?’ Killian and Emmett demanded at the same time.

  I flipped the pendants over and, sure enough, there was a very faint join through the centre of each. ‘The pendant has been split in two and then fused with half of a replica,’ I deduced.

  Both my suitors yelled in outrage then laid into each other anew.

  ‘Stop!’ I shouted. Their fighting was beginning to annoy me. ‘This separation could have occurred any time within the last two hundred years! So until solid evidence proves otherwise, could we please run with the premise that you’re both telling the truth?’

  They looked completely stunned by my reasoning, but were still hesitant to submit to my suggestion.

  ‘If we’re all to make it out of Irkalla alive, then we’re going to have to work together,’ I said.

  ‘Who’s this prince Erragal was talking about?’ Killian asked, to avoid having to agree to trust Emmett.

  ‘How about you tell me why the Nefilim are seeking Castor?’ I responded, feeling that was more important right now.

  ‘I don’t know that much about the Montauk Project, so I didn’t understand a lot of what I heard,’ Killian explained.

  ‘I’m fairly well read on the subject,’ Emmett offered, urging Killian to spit out what he knew.

  ‘Well, they said the Montauk wormholes could be extended further back in time by using a time rift created in 1923 as a bridge between the wormholes of the past and those more recently created.’

  Killian shrugged, perplexed, but Emmett and I both nodded, greatly interested.

  ‘What happened in 1923?’ I probed.

  ‘Some Nazis apparently tried to create a time hole back to the time of King Arthur. They were seeking the Grail for Hitler—’

  ‘Project Phisummum,’ Emmett broke in. ‘It’s said they harnessed all natural and supernatural forces, from modern technology to medieval black magic, from the teachings of Pythagoras to the pentagram incantation, to create a wormhole back to the time of King Arthur’s final battle.’

  This confirmed my belief that the Nefilim were seeking the Rod of Power, for it had made its final appearance in the physical world at the battle of Badon Hill.

  I was deep in thought when Killian spoke up again. ‘Now can I know who this prince is?’

  ‘He is my soul mate in the next dimension above Earth’s evolution,’ I explained. ‘We consented to come to Earth together with the sole purpose of redeeming our lost kindred. However, as with all the lost souls banished to this lowest dimension after the catastrophe on Tara, only by evolving through many lifetimes did we remember our soul quest and our connection to each other. As punishment for the sins of our fallen brethren, Mathu and I were only permitted to incarnate together twice. Once, when we first incarnated into the dying line of the Anunnaki here on Earth, and the second time in this, our final lifetime as human beings. The only problem is…I’m yet to find him in this lifetime.’

  Killian appeared enchanted by the tale and smiled winningly to realise he was suspected of being my prince.

  I glanced at Emmett and was surprised to find him in tears. ‘No, that’s not right,’ he said.

  ‘What’s not right?’ I asked, but he was engrossed in his own contemplation.

  ‘That note,’ he muttered, ‘I’ve heard you sing it before.’

  ‘You think you’re her prince?’ Killian scoffed.

  Emmett’s gaze suddenly became focused on me and I saw the truth in his eyes. ‘In a cathedral filled with great works of art—’ he began.

  ‘Oh, come on!’ Killian rolled his eyes but I hushed him.

  ‘The Hall of Time Codes,’ I said, completely transfixed by Emmett’s words.

  ‘—you sang that note,’ he wen
t on, tears flowing down his cheeks, ‘and the sonic drove me to my knees.’

  I gasped as I too recalled the event he described, for indeed he spoke a truth that even I had forgotten. Mathu’s spirit had been present the day we took down Pintar, leader of the Dracon, for Pintar was the embodiment of Mathu’s alter ego—all that was evil about him from his time as one of the Nefilim. Mathu had used an incantation of the dark arts to separate this evil alter ego from himself and had transferred it into one of the Dracon. He planned to kill the Dracon once the purge was complete, thus destroying his dark side forever. But after the purge, Mathu had no bad will left in him at all and let the Dracon go, and the evil thought form, Pintar, became Mathu’s nemesis throughout the ages. Until, in the Hall of Time Codes, as I sang my enlightening song, Mathu’s spirit bonded itself to Pintar and, in claiming his dark half and forgiving himself, Mathu finally defeated his adversary.

  Emmett was shaking violently, overwhelmed by the sudden waves of awareness. ‘What is happening?’ he stammered as I gripped his shoulders.

  ‘Sorry,’ I apologised in advance, ‘but I have to do this.’

  As our lips met, my heart exploded in my chest. I felt a stream of light energy burst forth from my heart centre into Emmett’s heaving chest, and vice versa. His kiss lost all its reserve and became as hungry as my own. I felt his young body transforming in my arms. The teenager matured into a being equal in stature and maturity to myself.

  ‘Hey, guys, there’s something going on,’ Killian called out.

  My eyes were closed but in my mind’s eye there was light everywhere. Being in Mathu’s arms felt like coming home after a long and perilous solo voyage, and I wasn’t prepared to cut short this sensation for anything!

  ‘I’m serious, folks!’ Killian’s tone was more desperate this time. ‘I think we’re being gassed!’

  I opened my eyes and saw my beloved standing before me. His eyes were deepest violet, and his hair was like snow cascading over his shoulders. I wanted to greet him, but a stinging chemical aroma invaded my nostrils and throat. My eyelids closed again, as heavy as lead, and my body collapsed beneath me.