The Black Madonna (The Mystique Trilogy)

ASHLEE GRANVILLE-DEVERE—SOLARIAN

  The staff members were particularly chipper after a rest period in Amenti’s magnificent accommodation, built and designed by our ultra-terrestrial selves to cater for the very few occasions our mortal selves were able to relax and recoup our vitality. Still, after eight hours of surface Earth standard time, play break was over and we all reported for duty.

  While Polaris transported Meridan, Talori and Vespera to New York in the Klieo, I accompanied Arcturus to the recovery area, where Castor was keeping an eye on Mathu and Kali, in separate rooms for the present.

  To our delight, when we entered the observation area between the two recovery rooms, we found Mathu sitting upright on the edge of his bed. Levi was visiting him, having a chat. They were old friends from way back.

  ‘We did it!’ Mathu was groggy, but his voice was full of relief and excitement. ‘I knew you would find me,’ he looked from Levi to the rest of us, ‘all of you! You have all been my star pupil at one time or another.’

  He nodded at Castor with great affection. ‘Arthur, my master shaman, the saviour of the Rod of Power. How are you coping with the consciousness shifts from that time junction we created off Land’s End at the end of your reign?’

  ‘Dear Myrddin, how I have missed your conversation.’ Castor returned the fond sentiment. ‘I’m doing just fine, thank you.’

  ‘Aleka.’ Mathu’s sights turned to me; I too had spent a few lifetimes in the company of the master scribe. ‘When you saved the plan with your bravery during the demise of Poseidonis, I was so very proud of you…and look how far you have come!’

  I was flattered. Mathu was far more charming than I remembered, but of course he had never fully occupied a human body before and so now he had an emotional side.

  ‘I could say the same of you, Master Hermes.’

  He waved off my adulation and looked to Arcturus. ‘Vishtaspa, my greatest patron,’ he said, and Arcturus smiled. ‘I wrote hymns about you and the Kavi, you know.’

  The Kavi were a semi-mythological dynasty of ancient Persia and Central Asia.

  ‘Yes, Zoroaster, I know and I am very honoured,’ Arcturus replied. Noticing my interest, he added to me in an aside, ‘Persia, sixth century BCE.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve read the Gathas,’ I replied, for the ancient doctrine of Zoroastrianism had formed part of my studies within my lifetime as Ashlee Granville-Devere. ‘You were one of the legendary kings of the Kavi dynasty then?’

  ‘Indeed, or so the third hall of Amenti revealed to me.’

  In the other recovery room, Tamar gave a groan of what sounded like pleasure.

  ‘Tamar is waking up,’ Castor informed Levi and Mathu through the intercom.

  Arcturus was in the lab faster than anyone could deny him access. Mathu followed at a slower pace, staggering into the room with Levi’s aid.

  ‘Come closer,’ Tamar whispered in a sultry tone, her hands caressing her thighs.

  Arcturus and Mathu looked at each other across the bed, neither man sure who had precedence in this instance. Was it her father or her lover-to-be she needed most right now? Arcturus stepped back and motioned for Mathu to take a seat beside his sleeping daughter.

  ‘Yes,’ Tamar gasped, as if overwhelmed by desire. ‘I am yours.’ Her hands slid over her gown to clutch her breasts.

  Arcturus looked alarmed and very uncomfortable.

  ‘My queen.’ Mathu leaned over to caress Tamar’s cheek and wake her. ‘My love.’

  Tamar’s arm came up forcefully and held Mathu at bay. ‘Killian?’ she said.

  ‘No. It is I, Mathu.’

  ‘Deceiver!’ Tamar yelled, sitting up, and the force of her anger sent Mathu flying into the far wall. Although she was upright, her eyelids were still closed. ‘Go back to your whores!’

  Arcturus stepped in. Sitting down next to her, he gripped her shoulders to attempt to shake her to consciousness. ‘Sweetheart, wake up.’

  ‘Leave me alone!’ she yelled in his face. ‘I hate you!’

  ‘Tamar? It’s Daddy, sweetheart.’

  ‘I don’t want you here!’

  Arcturus went flying across the room to join Mathu on the floor. Tamar threw herself backwards and, gripping her head, went into a screaming fit.

  Castor sprang from his chair. ‘She’s having a psychotic episode. We’re going to have to sedate her.’ He sought my assistance and I nodded.

  We entered the lab stealthily; thankfully our subject appeared too engrossed in her own suffering to notice us. I moved to one side of the bed, ready to restrain her if required, whilst Castor approached from the other side, holding the gun containing the sedative dart.

  As soon as Kali felt the metal implement against her skin, her eyes shot open and Castor, too, was sent flying across the room. She looked at me and I shook my head to let her know she’d better not try the same stunt. There was intense hatred in her wild violet eyes, yet I maintained my defiant glare as I willed the sedative gun into my hand.

  Fuck you.

  I heard her thought and pre-empted her strike with my own will to restrain her.

  Her will impacted on me, but I was only cast off balance a second before I was able to impose my will upon her. As my intent was pure and genuine, it won out—Kali was pinned to her bed.

  I placed the device against her shoulder.

  ‘Yes, send me back to him,’ she invited as I squeezed the trigger.

  ‘To who?’ I asked, too late, for she smiled as the sedative took hold, and then groaned again with pleasure just before she blacked out.

  ‘Goddamn it,’ said Levi, ‘they really got to her. We should never have let her go her own way.’

  I’d forgotten he was in the room. Now that I looked at him closely, I could see that he was traumatised by the change in Kali.

  ‘We didn’t let her go,’ Arcturus argued, picking himself up off the floor. ‘Kali insisted. We just shouldn’t have listened.’ I could hear in his voice the tears he was holding back. ‘Is the damage permanent?’ he asked Castor, helping him to his feet, then giving Mathu a hand up too.

  ‘Even in the most ideal brainwashing conditions, the effects of the process are most often short term,’ Castor was pleased to be able to inform us. ‘The victim’s old identity isn’t eradicated by the process, it’s just in hiding, and once the “new identity” is no longer reinforced, the person’s previous attitudes and beliefs will start to return. We discovered that with Levi.’

  ‘If the Nefilim have imprinted her psyche with negative beliefs about you two, it might be best if you don’t see her until she’s recovered some of her true self,’ Levi suggested. ‘You’re both negative triggers for her just now,’ he explained further when Tamar’s father and partner objected strongly. ‘Until we can get her to remember otherwise, she’s going to see you as evil, which will retrigger the false memories and perpetuate the problem. We’re going to have to move her to the top-security holding cell for the time being anyway.’

  Arcturus winced; he’d spent some time himself in the gold Orme-reinforced cell. ‘Is that really necessary?’

  Levi frowned. ‘Considering what you’ve just seen, do you really have to ask?’

  Who is the HE she wanted me to send her back to? I wondered quietly. I placed my fingertips to her neck and extracted the answer. Killian. ‘I thought so,’ I said aloud.

  ‘What did you think?’ Arcturus asked.

  ‘That Ill is fiendishly clever.’

  What better way to foil our plan than to set Kali and Mathu against each other and place Killian right in the middle?

  ‘How long until Tamar starts to remember her old identity?’ I asked Castor.

  ‘Levi took the better part of a season to recover, and even then he still had flashbacks.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, taking a deep breath, ‘we still have eight months up our sleeve. Let’s hope it will be enough.’

  Mathu was shaking with remorse and anger. ‘Our enemies got to her before I did again! I have failed
her, over and over.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ I told him. ‘If you hadn’t defeated Pintar, she wouldn’t be here at all. She will recover, and when she does we will end this war and go home. Understand, Mathu, you have an underdeveloped emotional body and at first it will cause you to doubt yourself.’ I placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘But you must believe in the power of love; it truly will conquer all.’

  ‘You’ve been through a huge ordeal yourself,’ Castor added. ‘You may be a demi-god but that doesn’t mean you don’t need to rest and recuperate after having your consciousness bounced about through time for aeons.’

  Mathu was dumbstruck a moment and slightly discomforted. ‘Why do I suddenly feel like a novice among masters?’

  I laughed at the role reversal. ‘Well, we’ve been human a hell of a lot longer.’

  ‘And some of us still can’t get it right,’ Arcturus said, forcing a grin. He couldn’t stop his gaze drifting back to his daughter.

  ‘Don’t you start believing the negative rubbish Ill put in that girl’s head!’ I gave my old friend a shake. ‘I know you’re worried, but have a little faith in your daughter’s abilities. She will come through this.’

  He nodded and put on a brave face, but I knew deep down he also felt he’d let her down. ‘What should I tell Meridan?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s going to lose her focus if she knows we have problems here,’ Castor advised. ‘Wait a week or so and see if Tamar’s condition improves any, then the news you deliver may not be so bad.’

  Arcturus was unsure. ‘I think she has the right to know that our daughter now hates us!’ His hurt began bubbling to the surface. ‘Goddess knows what kind of perverse vision of us the Nefilim have pumped into her head!’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Levi grabbed hold of Arcturus by the shirtfront to get his full attention. ‘It’s false!’

  I separated the two men, who were glaring at each other, although Levi appeared to have got his point across. ‘If you like, I can work with Castor during her recovery and find out exactly what falsehoods Ill has filled her mind with,’ I offered.

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ Arcturus said gratefully. He knew I rarely used my psychic skill to probe the minds of others, but in this case I thought it justified. ‘But won’t you experience all that she has?’ he went on, concerned.

  ‘I need see only fragments, not enough to be harmful,’ I assured him, although inside I was dreading the process. Still, we Dragon Queens had been so focused on getting the grid up and running that we had lost sight of our primary objective—to protect the key to Amenti, Kali. I felt I had much to make amends for and so any pain I might suffer as I tried to right this tragic oversight would be a small price to pay.

  CHAPTER 29

  THE PEACE PROJECT

  MIA DEVERE—MERIDAN

  I hadn’t walked the streets of New York since my university days at NYU, and it felt strangely surreal to be back in the real world again. We strutted through Central Park, my two Dragon sisters and I, getting hit on by every group of males that passed us. Spring was in the air, the sun shone overhead and the park was abloom with beautiful pink tulips, cherry blossoms and myriad other fragrant flowers. This natural oasis was a world away from the crowded streets of the city that bordered its environs and the atmosphere seemed alive with positive frequency—whatever Killian was doing to the people down here it was certainly working!

  ‘Feel that energy!’ Vespera commented, breathing in deeply as we approached the area of the park that the Peace Project had taken over. There were people chanting, singing, meditating, doing yoga and other disciplines involving mind, body and spirit coordination, and yet they were all in harmony with each other.

  The man we had come to find, now known as Chris Molier, was seated on a low-rise stage doing an interview with a famous night-show host.

  ‘This has nothing to do with religion,’ Chris was insisting with a cheeky smile. ‘This is pure science.’

  ‘That our intention affects everything around us?’ The interviewer sounded sceptical.

  ‘Before we say or do anything,’ Chris explained, ‘our intention is already doing the good or the damage that we intend to do.’

  ‘And you can prove this?’

  ‘I can.’ Chris motioned the interviewer to follow him to another part of the stage where some machinery was set up.

  ‘That looks like a lie detector,’ the interviewer said.

  ‘It is,’ Chris confirmed, raising his eyebrows a couple of times to heighten the suspense. The crowd laughed.

  ‘Well, I hope you don’t plan on hooking me up to that,’ the interviewer said, looking alarmed. He’d been privy to more than a few scandals during his career.

  ‘Fear not,’ Chris said, playing up the joke, ‘this test requires a subject that’s a little more innocent.’ He called to one of his assistants. ‘Sharon, could you bring over the unsuspecting rubber tree, please?’

  This brought a great laugh from the crowd and the interviewer.

  ‘You intend to hook that plant up to the lie detector?’ he said. ‘Is that legal? Could we be sued by the greenies?’

  ‘I want to stress that the plant will not be permanently harmed in any way,’ Chris said with mock seriousness.

  The interviewer was almost in tears of laughter as Chris went about connecting the electrodes to the plant.

  ‘The waxy insulation between the cells in plants causes an electrical discharge that mimics a human stress reaction,’ he explained. ‘A polygraph reading offers evidence of those stress levels. I’d like to point out that this wasn’t my brilliant discovery, but that of Cleve Backster, this country’s greatest expert in lie detectors and a refiner of the polygraph.’

  Chris turned the apparatus on and directed the interviewer’s attention to the monitor, which was being projected onto a bigger screen so the crowd could also see what was going on. The polygraph pen was swinging very mildly on the paper.

  ‘As you can see, we have mild stress levels at the moment,’ Chris said.

  ‘The poor little fellow probably has stage fright,’ the interviewer joked.

  Chris laughed, agreeing that he was most likely right.

  ‘Now see what happens when I say something nice.’ Chris walked over and placed his hands on the leaves of the plant. ‘My, but you are the most exquisite rubber tree I have ever seen. You’re just gorgeous!’

  The crowd applauded as the pen on the polygraph swung lower.

  ‘No, you’re not,’ Chris said, changing his tune and ruffling the leaves, ‘you’re hideous! I don’t know why you ever bothered germinating! I hate you!’

  There wasn’t much of a swing in the stress level of the plant at all and everyone looked confused.

  ‘My words and actions didn’t make much difference to the plant’s state of being,’ Chris said. ‘But what happens if I really intend it harm?’

  He held out his hands in plain view of everyone, without touching the plant, and closed his eyes. Within seconds the recording pen swung to the top of the polygraph chart and nearly jumped off.

  The crowd gasped, as did the reporter. To all appearances, Chris hadn’t said or done anything. ‘What just happened?’ the interviewer asked.

  ‘All I had to do was think about burning one of its leaves with a match,’ Chris explained. Everyone was gobsmacked by the implications. ‘It wasn’t my action but my intention that caused this plant harm. But,’ he held up a finger to let everyone know he wasn’t done yet, ‘what I find even more interesting is this.’

  He waved his assistant forward once more and this time she brought with her a piece of slimy pipe, which she handed gingerly to Chris, an expression of disgust on her face.

  Chris held the pipe up. ‘This is your average piece of old sink pipe, the type you’d find in your own home, filled with years of grime and slimy build-up. In other words, bacteria, some of the tiniest living organisms known to man.’

  As Chris spoke the polygraph did a little stress jump. ?
??I haven’t done anything yet,’ he said to the plant and the crowd giggled.

  ‘My assistant has a jug of boiling water…’ Again the pen did a little jump. ‘Stop that,’ he joked and then appealed to the crowd. ‘Please don’t send me hate mail for harassing plants.’

  He certainly hasn’t lost any of his charm, I thought; he had the entire crowd hanging on his every word and laughing at all his jokes.

  ‘Now, I’m taking my hot water and my microbe-filled pipe all the way over here, where the plant can’t see,’ Chris said, causing a riot in the crowd as he moved across the stage to hide the proceedings from the plant.

  As soon as the water hit the pipe the polygraph began swinging around wildly.

  ‘The plant sensed you were going to hurt the bacteria,’ the interviewer concluded.

  ‘No, the plant felt the bacteria’s distress and, being empathetic towards it, became distressed itself,’ Chris corrected.

  ‘No wonder plants won’t survive in my kitchen,’ commented the interviewer as he applauded the display.

  ‘So, having discovered this and much more thanks to quantum science,’ Chris said, moving back towards the interviewer but really addressing the crowd, ‘I had to ask myself what would happen if we, as human beings of the twenty-first century, knowing what we know now, focused all our good intentions into the more tension-filled areas of our globe. Would it have a real impact on crime, health and well-being within that troubled area—And how could such a movement be organised? That’s how the Peace Project came into being, so that through pure science—not hearsay or faith—people could be made aware of the power of their intentions. We all use the excuse that as individuals we can’t make a huge difference to the troubles in the world, but I say that one person can make a difference. If I can send a plant into deep stress with the thought of a threat, just imagine the harm the sum total of human intention is doing to this planet. This project asks for nothing from anyone besides your best wishes for our continued success. Any involvement anyone wishes to have with us beyond that is entirely up to them.’

  ‘Chris Molier, thank you very much for speaking with us today live from Central Park,’ the interviewer said, then went into his closing spiel. Chris waved and left the platform.