The Black Madonna (The Mystique Trilogy) Read online

  ‘The cave contains a passage leading up inside the mountain. We suspect it was used by the Cathars to get supplies into their besieged fortress and their treasures out,’ André told us as we flew around the mount, past the tunnel excavation and towards the remains of the medieval village, alongside which the site house and helipad were located.

  ‘I suspect you may be right,’ Albray agreed, with a knowing grin in my direction.

  ‘Is that the hole you’ve been working in?’ Tamar referred to the newly exposed cave.

  ‘Ah, no…’ André was amused. ‘We have discovered a much larger cavity to get lost in.’

  The helipad was on high ground and gave an excellent view of the camp site and dig beyond.

  ‘In the village we discovered an ancient labyrinth of tunnels, accessed via the basement of one of the previously buried structures,’ André informed us as we descended the stairs towards the camp. ‘We’ll just drop off your bags and I’ll take you straight down.’

  The site comprised several large structures that accommodated a canteen, preservation rooms, a large office and an amenities block. There were smaller individual units that served as sleeping quarters. Tamar had been given her own living module next to ours.

  ‘Are you coming, Tamar?’ I asked as André set off towards the excavation.

  ‘You go ahead.’ She waved me on. ‘I’m going to check out the camp facilities…maybe find some lunch?’

  I knew the last thing on her mind was food.

  ‘Be good,’ I cautioned, then my husband and I followed André towards the dig that led to the unearthed labyrinth.

  CHAPTER 2

  KALI’S MISSION

  TAMAR DEVERE—KALI

  I did look a little out of place wandering through the camp dressed as I was, but apart from a few friendly hellos from passing males and some repressed smiles of envious approval from females, no one was confident enough to try and engage my attention for long. The kind of souls I was seeking would always be attracted to a thing of beauty and would never doubt their ability to acquire it for themselves.

  ‘Are you lost?’

  The accent was American. The query came from the site office and I turned to find a young fellow standing at the door. He struck me as the studious, intellectual type, no doubt due to the heavy dark-rimmed glasses he wore.

  ‘Never,’ I replied, heading over to introduce myself.

  My psychic impression was of a good and helpful soul. His straight dark-blond hair was neatly trimmed and he was shorter than your average human male, but perhaps he would grow taller as he was still young. His youth was emphasised by his college-style shirt, trousers and sweater-vest.

  ‘Do you need a jacket or something, Miss—’

  ‘Tamar Devere.’ I held out my slender, perfectly manicured hand.

  He shook it very briefly, a little flustered by my attention. ‘You’re Mia Devere’s little girl?’ He was stunned, as he’d obviously been told how old I was.

  ‘We mature fast in my family.’

  I eased past him to enter the office, finding it all but deserted. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Emmett, Dr Rich’s son,’ he said. I was none the wiser so he explained further. ‘Dr Colin Rich, the anthropologist who’s project manager here.’

  ‘Ah. Do you work for your father?’

  ‘I work with him sometimes, yeah.’ Emmett returned to his desk. ‘I’m still a student, but I run the site office while Dad is down the hole.’

  He took a seat, and became immediately engrossed in what he was reading on his computer. Either he was overwhelmed by my beauty and very shy, or he did not find me the slightest bit attractive.

  ‘Are you gay?’

  Emmett nearly choked on the drink he was slurping through a straw. ‘What? No…no.’

  ‘How old are you?’ My guess was around sixteen.

  ‘Do you always ask such personal questions of perfect strangers?’ he said indignantly.

  ‘I was just wondering why you don’t find me attractive.’

  He looked back to his computer, which annoyed me. ‘Legally, I’m not permitted to find you attractive for at least another three years.’

  Since my merger with Kali, I was used to bowling people over, inspiring awe and desire. What could he be reading that was so all-absorbing? I strolled behind him to find out.

  It was an article titled ‘The Circles of Power Behind UFO Secrecy’, written by the founder of CSETI—the Center for the Study of Extraterrestrial Intelligence.

  ‘So you’re a believer?’ I said.

  He jumped, clearly oblivious to the fact that I had moved. ‘Absolutely,’ he said, his eyes still pinned to the screen. ‘I’m a regular A to Z directory on anything remotely relating to a cover-up.’

  ‘Have you been abducted?’ I asked directly.

  ‘Not that I recall. I’m just a good researcher.’ His tone implied I was being predictable. ‘You’re a sceptic, I take it?’

  ‘Not at all. I know quite a bit about the Old World Order…or the New World Order as it’s now known.’ I’d finally secured his attention. ‘Why so surprised?’

  ‘Why am I surprised that a girl like you would spare a thought for conspiracy theories?’ Emmett thought the answer was obvious. ‘Hell, I’m surprised you even read!’

  I took offence. ‘Excuse me! I’ve just co-authored a book, so I write as well.’

  ‘Good for you.’ He seemed more interested in his article. ‘What’s your book about?’

  ‘The Grail bloodline,’ I said, and his attention shot back to me. ‘It’s just a fantasy story.’

  Disappointed, he went back to his screen. ‘Then you should have a lot in common with our sponsor, Mr La-bent…most of the time,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Otherwise known as “I have the money and can afford to have an eccentric interest in digging up half the country while chasing an ancient myth”.’

  Emmett’s resentful humour amused me. ‘You mean the myth that the Grail is buried beneath this mountain?’

  He arrowed down the page on his screen. ‘My personal opinion is that the Grail hunt is just a smokescreen for what La-bent is truly seeking down there.’

  How interesting, I thought. ‘And what might that be?’

  He shook his head and chuckled quietly. ‘I’m not going to tell you, in case what I heard is a fabrication and I look a fool for repeating it. But fear not, I’m sure he’ll confide in you presently.’ ‘Really. Why?’

  He laughed again. ‘He is going to love you. Legal constraints have never been a major concern of the rich and shameless.’

  A tall fellow came into the site office, his dark hair flowing in the breeze. He strode towards one of the private offices, engrossed in a conversation he was having on his remote headset.

  ‘Speak of the devil,’ said Emmett without looking up.

  Killian Labontè was wearing a filthy pair of shredded jeans and a T-shirt so soiled its true colour was no longer determinable; it was difficult to recognise him from the celebrity pictures I’d seen of him. He sounded American rather than French, but I’d read that he’d spent most of his youth in the US and had been educated there.

  ‘It speaks of the location of the lance,’ he said, then frowned as he entered the largest of the offices. ‘Of course I’m fucking sure!’ The door slammed closed.

  ‘Lovely,’ I commented, referring to Killian’s phone manner rather than his person. I looked at Emmett. ‘What lance does he mean?’

  ‘The all-powerful lance, staff, rod, sword that appears over and over again in Arthurian legends, and is supposedly the weapon that pierced the side of Christ at the crucifixion, yadda, yadda, blah, blah.’ Emmett sounded terribly bored as he rattled off the theory.

  ‘You think otherwise?’

  ‘The lance, or rather, the rod of ancient myth, didn’t make its first appearance at the crucifixion of Christ. Moses, the Levites and Solomon all had possession of the Rod and Ring of Power. It took an adept soul to wield either treasure, and t
hey were creative tools more than implements of destruction. I believe that together the ring and rod might have formed a key.’

  I smiled. Emmett was right on the money. ‘A key to what?’

  ‘No one knows.’

  I knew. The rod and ring in question, when united by the Black Madonna, formed the key that would allow me and my missing prince to open the Halls of Amenti.

  ‘Then what leads you to believe they form a key?’ I asked.

  He shrugged and shied away from answering. ‘Whether they do or not, I’d still query how a mere Roman foot soldier came to possess one of the most powerful weapons on Earth, only to inflict harm upon one of Earth’s most adept souls with it.’

  I mulled over his theory. ‘Perhaps the foot soldier was in league with Christ, and used the weapon to secretly heal and not harm him?’

  Emmett was amused by the premise. ‘I can see why you write fiction.’ He returned to his computer.

  ‘Fact can be stranger than fiction,’ I teased, ignoring his insult.

  Killian Labontè opened his office door and, ripping the phone set from his head, threw it onto his desk. ‘Imbecile.’ Then he spied me standing by Emmett’s desk and his temper immediately dispersed.

  ‘Killian Labontè.’ He held his hand out and walked over to introduce himself.

  This was exactly the kind of confidence I would expect from one of the Nefilim, yet oddly enough his light-body appeared perfectly normal. There were a few muddy patches in his aura and light centres, but he had no major hang-ups and was very self-confident for a human of his age—not really surprising considering his cushy upbringing. Killian Labontè came off as a kind of happy-go-lucky rebel in the tabloids; they couldn’t get enough of him. His intense blue eyes, handsome features and good physique did make him rather easy on the eye.

  ‘Tamar Devere.’ I held out my hand and Killian held it fast in his as he became fixated by my eyes.

  ‘I’ve never seen violet eyes before…’ His attention shifted downward. ‘Or legs that long.’

  It was clear that Killian, like me, was used to inspiring awe in the opposite sex. Such an admiring gaze from the heir to a multi-billion-dollar fortune might have made some women feel uncomfortable and nervous, but I was confident.

  ‘And all in one neat package,’ I said flirtatiously.

  ‘Indeed.’ Killian raised my hand, intending to kiss it, but was interrupted by Emmett crushing his drink can and tossing it into the empty metal bin. Labontè closed his eyes briefly to suppress his annoyance, as Emmett got up and headed for the kitchenette, then resumed his friendly demeanour. ‘I was just on my way to get changed for a function. A friend of mine is opening a nightclub. Would you care to accompany me?’

  ‘Do you think I’ll pass for eighteen?’ I said. I had to let him know I was a minor.

  ‘As long as you’re with me, no one will ask any questions,’ he said arrogantly. ‘Unless, of course, you think your parents might object?’

  ‘Not at all.’ I smiled. ‘They encourage me to get out and meet others.’

  ‘It’s a date then.’ He slapped his hands together, pleased, then checked his watch. ‘Meet you back here in half an hour?’

  I nodded. ‘That’ll give me time to change into something more inappropriate.’

  Labontè looked discomfited for a second, then smiled. ‘I like you already.’ And with a wave he was gone.

  ‘Guess I’ll be reading about you in the social pages tomorrow,’ said Emmett when he returned from the kitchenette and saw me leaving.

  I sensed a warning beneath the comment, which was rather sweet. ‘Why read the news when you can be the news,’ I replied flippantly.

  Emmett shook his head, clearly taking me for a social climber, and I decided it was safer to perpetuate that illusion. As I headed back to my sleeping quarters to raid my luggage for a change of attire, I decided I rather liked Emmett Rich.

  ‘Are you insane?’ My mother was displeased by my decision to date her employer. ‘Your father and I have gone to great lengths to keep you hidden from undesirables, and you decide to date the guy who’s been hailed as the world’s most eligible bachelor for three years running! The press go ballistic every time he glances sideways at a woman. You’ll be world news by tomorrow morning!’

  ‘Exactly,’ I said, zipping up my pleated, checked mini-skirt. I reached for my little white shirt, pulled it on and tied it up around my midriff. ‘I don’t have time to chase up all the Nefilim. We need them to come to me. And they can only do that if they know where I am—not to mention Mathu.’

  ‘Everyone will know where you are, that’s the point!’ Mother frowned as she watched me pull my long white socks up over my knees. ‘You can’t go out dressed like that. You look like a schoolgirl.’ Nevertheless, she couldn’t help grinning at my blatant cheek.

  ‘I am a schoolgirl.’ I was quite prepared to promote that little fantasy among my prospective enemies and admirers. I pulled on my chunky black platform shoes, and my slim-fit black mohair cardigan. ‘The good news is that Killian isn’t one of my fallen kin.’

  ‘Yes, I realise that,’ Mother said. ‘So it would be best if we didn’t attract any of the Nefilim to this particular area of the world right now.’

  A vehicle pulling into the site camp drew our attention to the window—it was a long gold limousine. A handsome young chauffeur opened the rear door and Morell Labontè and his wife, Sabine, stepped into view. They each had an aura of sparkling gold and a light-body devoid of light centres. Physically, their true stature could be seen looming over the smaller human bodies they sported; they were Nefilim masquerading as humans.

  ‘Too late.’ I returned to view myself in the mirror. ‘Should I put my hair in pigtails, do you think?’ I grabbed my long, silky dark hair and pulled it into high bunches on either side of my head, then turned to my mother for an opinion.

  She was horrified. ‘Please don’t do this.’

  ‘I told you not to come here!’ It was Killian, yelling abuse at his parents, which sent Mother and me racing back to the window. ‘This business venture has nothing to do with you!’

  ‘You can only call an enterprise a business venture if you expect it to make money,’ Morell scoffed. ‘If you simply want to drill holes in the ground, I’ll give you an oil well.’

  ‘This has nothing to do with the money,’ Sabine cut in. ‘You’ll get yourself killed crawling around underground. Please forget this foolishness and come home.’ She moved to hug her son, but he backed away.

  ‘We wouldn’t want to damage this perfect specimen you’ve grown,’ Killian said harshly. ‘You’re not my parents.’

  ‘Your blood is thicker than that skull of yours, boy,’ Morell hissed before returning to the car. ‘You will assume your rightful place in society one way or another.’

  ‘Leave! Or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.’ Killian stormed off, leaving his parents loitering or lingering around their luxury car.

  ‘Curious,’ I commented. ‘If the Nefilim know, or even suspect, there’s a Signet station buried beneath Montségur, then why would they want Killian to stop working here? Even if he’s not an ally, he’s still doing their dirty work for them. So either the Nefilim don’t know about the Signet station or, for reasons unknown, they don’t want Killian to find it.’

  ‘Do you think Killian’s adopted?’ My mother was wondering how Killian’s parents could be Nefilim when he clearly wasn’t.

  ‘The Nefilim ceased to wear their true physical forms aeons ago, as they grew too hideous from their addictions,’ I explained. ‘Instead, they murder and then assume the forms of human beings who have fallen by the wayside—those seduced by power, money, and who have a complete disregard for their fellow man. It’s easier for the emotionless Nefilim to assume the lives of such people.’

  My mother recalled the practice from her readings of the journals of our foremother, Ashlee Granville-Devere. ‘Those of the blood can be vessels for angels or demons,’ she said.
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  ‘They suck the life from the human vessel they desire, then don its identity like a brand-new suit of clothes. And guess who their next conquest is going to be?’

  Mother looked shocked when she realised I was talking about her boss.

  ‘Although if Killian is indeed of the blood, he could just as easily be a vessel for Mathu as one of the Nefilim,’ I added, and my heart skipped a beat at the possibility. I took a deep breath to dispel the rush of joy and gathered my wits. ‘I should go.’

  ‘But what shall we do about them?’ My mother pointed out the window at the two impostors posing as Killian’s parents.

  ‘They must be left at liberty,’ I instructed. ‘They will lead us to others of their kind.’

  ‘You be careful,’ Mother said awkwardly—out of habit.

  I reached into my luggage and pulled out a tiny handgun. ‘You know how cautious I am.’

  ‘Where did you get that?’ Mia was shocked and then enchanted by the tiny gun with its clear chamber filled with liquid light.

  ‘It’s something Levi has been developing,’ I replied.

  Levi was the Council of Amenti’s key technologist, along with his partner, Thana.

  ‘Is it safe?’ Mother asked, concerned about me wielding experimental weaponry.

  ‘It’s completely harmless…to the uncorrupt.’

  I tucked the tiny weapon into the top of my skirt at the back, where it was covered by my cardigan. Mia looked as if she was in pain.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I told her. ‘Focus on your mission.’ I kissed her forehead and left.

  Outside I ran into my father, and kissed him on the cheek too. ‘Later, Dad,’ I said, and strode off before he started a re-run of my mother’s protests.

  ‘You’re not letting her go out looking like that?’ I heard him protest to my mother.

  I didn’t look back, just walked on to my date with notoriety.

  CHAPTER 3

  SOUL TRADE

  As I passed the gold limousine, I saw that Morell Labontè had retired to the back seat and was absorbed in a video conference call. There was no sign of Sabine. I continued to the site office, where I’d arranged to meet my date, but it appeared empty. I sensed, however, that I wasn’t alone and so moved stealthily across the communal workspace towards the private offices on the other side of the room. The sound of whispering drew my attention to the kitchenette at the back of the common room. I turned away from the private offices and crept towards my target, but as I passed the doorway to Killian’s office I was grabbed around the waist and mouth and pulled inside. I broke free and turned to defend myself—my open-handed strike stopping only centimetres from Emmett Rich’s Adam’s apple.