The Dragon Queens (The Mystique Trilogy) (45 page)

‘Go fuck yourself!’ Pintar snarled.

‘You are so predictable.’

The captain fired a few more darts into one of Pintar’s arms and the demon cried out as it too froze. Curiously, despite his frozen body parts, Pintar was sweating; I suspected he was drawing fire elementals to himself and ordering them to defrost him—just as Charlotte had summoned them to aid her to combust. Captain Sinclair knew he was pushed for time.

‘You had targeted Ashlee and Earnest Devere as Ceres operatives long before Taejax gave the rings to Ashlee and Charlotte, hadn’t you? I know Taejax didn’t tell you, and as he has severed
himself from your control, you could not have read his mind.’

‘You want to know how I tracked Solarian?’ Pintar queried. The captain nodded. ‘Go fuck yourself!’

Sinclair wasn’t surprised by the answer. He fired another round of darts at the demon’s limbs. ‘I can do this all day,’ he said. ‘I have plenty of ammunition.’

‘Solarian has made many enemies in the underworld,’ Pintar snarled. ‘She gave herself away by exposing the extent of her power to her enemies.’

‘Molier!’ Albray and I both came up with the name of the culprit.

The captain saw the truth of it, realising that Molier must still be on the loose, for he had escaped Ashlee’s wrath thirty years ago and no one had seen him since. This in turn explained a mystery from Sinclair’s life as Earnest Devere. ‘You tried to discover Ashlee’s whereabouts from Lord Malory, and when he wouldn’t tell you, you killed him,’ he accused the Dracon.

‘I obliterated him,’ Pintar gloated.

It was clear to me that the captain was having difficulty suppressing his urge to finish off Pintar once and for all. ‘Where is Molier now?’ he demanded.

‘Go f—’

Sinclair filled the beast full of darts until he was so frozen he could no longer respond.

‘Oops.’ The captain realised his trigger finger had been a little over-zealous. ‘Now we’re going to have to wait for his elementals to thaw him out a bit.’

As the crisis seemed to have passed, Albray sat me down in a chair and departed my form.

‘Are you all right, Talori?’ the captain asked me, then nodded to acknowledge the ghost who now stood beside me. ‘Arcturus.’

I was not used to the name Talori, but it resonated with my being. ‘I’m fine,’ I assured him; my only hurt was grief at the loss of Charlotte. ‘But where did that monster come from? My understanding is that the leader of the Dracon is Lillian’s misbegotten child, so how is it that Pintar claims to be your shadow, Mathu?’

Mathu turned from comforting Taejax to explain. ‘After I witnessed Kali’s suicide and then was visited by her spirit, I was so remorseful of my own heartless acts towards humanity and my Nefilim relations that I immediately wanted to start righting all the wrongs I had done or encouraged. However, I was so crippled by guilt and pain that I could do nothing. So I employed the dark arts I had perfected one last time, to draw out all that was bad from my being. I placed all this evil into a Dracon drone, which I intended to kill afterwards and thereby rid myself of my most horrid memories and feelings.’

‘But once your darkness was gone, you no longer had the wish to kill,’ Captain Sinclair guessed.

‘Not until today.’ Mathu’s intense gaze turned to Pintar, who was slowly defrosting.

‘Let me guess…’ I felt I had figured out the connection to Lillian. ‘The Dracon you let go was the same warrior who raped Lillian, and when he impregnated her the evil thought-form transferred to her child.’

Mathu nodded. ‘And once a demon has escaped the vessel of its containment, there is only one hope
of destroying it. It must be returned to its original source for processing.’

Mathu relieved the captain of his dart gun and began firing at Pintar, until the reptilian’s entire form was petrified. Then he focused on his disabled adversary…slowly a whirlwind built around the beastly abomination, yet we felt barely a breath of its presence. Mathu returned the dart gun to Captain Sinclair in exchange for a regular handgun.

‘What do you have in mind, old friend?’ Sinclair asked, clearly concerned.

‘Something I should have done tens of thousands of years ago,’ Mathu replied.

He fired at Pintar and the creature’s form shattered into icy splinters. The dark, angry thought-form was released, but it and the ice splinters were held contained by the whirlwind. When we saw that Mathu intended walking into the eye of this maelstrom, we tried to prevent him, but were repelled by the elemental forces under his command.

The evil entity was absorbed into Mathu’s form, the whirlwind died away and Mathu was left struggling with himself. It seemed the clash of forces would drive him to madness; he cried out in agony and stumbled about the room, struggling to digest not only his long-forgotten nightmares, but all the horrors that Pintar had committed since. Then, suddenly, he cried, ‘Out of the way,’ and took a running jump at the great bay window, vanishing before he broke through the glass.

What the hell was that all about?
said Albray in the stunned silence that followed.
What is going on?

‘I’ll read you all that Charlotte and I recorded on Ashlee’s behalf,’ I promised him. ‘That will explain a great deal.’

Sinclair crouched down by the grieving Dracon. ‘Come, Taejax, we should depart.’ Then he spied the ring lying in the ash that had been Charlotte Devere’s body. He retrieved it and looked to me, the only living being remaining. ‘Can you take care of things here?’

I shall remain as long as I am needed,
Albray added, pointing out that he was not entirely useless, just because he was dead.
I know what must be done.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I assured the time pirate and his alien friend. ‘You should both go before you are spotted and I have to try and explain you.’

And thus it fell to me to complete the journals of Ashlee Granville-Devere and Charlotte Devere.

What became of Mathu, how his struggle ended, remains a mystery to me. I have not seen or heard from Captain Sinclair or Taejax, and I do not expect to, not in this lifetime. I miss Ashlee a great deal; I miss her stories, her friendship, and all the mayhem and mystery that followed her wherever she went. I have read all of her journals now and have been enlightened and challenged by her adventures, just as I suspect future generations will be. It was my greatest honour to know Ashlee Granville-Devere and to preserve these writings in her name.

Albray has stayed with me as promised, but now my task is near complete I must dismiss him and return his ringstone to the back of Ashlee’s red journal, where she always hid it for safekeeping. I will miss him too. All these journals I am committing
into a large chest that I shall personally see delivered to Rebecca, Ashlee’s eldest daughter, for all the first daughters of her family line to inherit.

As for myself, life will go on, but it will never be the sheltered experience it was before I agreed to help chronicle Ashlee’s journey through Amenti. For now I know that the blood in my veins is not entirely human, and I have been awakened to a perception of things not always of this world. There is a war being waged outside the time frame of this planet, and somewhere in the future I am a fully aware Ceres operative, striving with the other Staff of Amenti to further the cause of human evolution in this dimension and beyond.

With a great sigh—partly of satisfaction and partly of disappointment for having finished the journal—I closed the book on the life of the great Lady Ashlee Granville-Devere. Even though I was thrilled to have absorbed an abundance of information about mysteries I would never have known existed, tears welled in my eyes. I was upset by Charlotte’s death, and I wondered what had become of the enchanting Mathu and his struggle with his emotional baggage. I wanted to know more about him and was sad that my wish could not be fulfilled. There was nothing more to read.

I went down to the kitchen for something to eat and was pleased to see Mum there, drinking a cup of coffee. I gave her a hug and sat down at the table next to her. ‘I finished the journal,’ I said.

‘So what did you think?’ Her tone was casual, but I felt it was time for us to be straight with one another.

‘I’m not sure what I am supposed to make of it,’ I said, folding my arms. ‘I think that the reason you’re not really that concerned by my sudden growth spurt is because you were expecting it.’

‘I know, I know.’ Mum held up a hand to assure me she understood my annoyance. ‘You’re not stupid, and you’re not a child any more, and it’s high time I levelled with you.’

‘About Giza?’ I prompted. I had no idea what vital import this had on my current situation, but Mum had mentioned that someone had made predictions about me during her stint in Giza, shortly after my conception.

She looked shocked. ‘You were listening in on my phone—’

‘Giza,’ I repeated, not to be sidetracked by a lecture.

Mum calmed, realising that, for once, I had right of way. ‘Here.’ She pulled a small notebook out of her bag and handed it over to me.

I read the title on the front aloud: ‘
Project Alkazar
. What is this? It doesn’t look like one of your regular work journals.’

‘That’s because it isn’t,’ Mum said. ‘It’s kind of a sequel to Ashlee’s journey through Amenti.’

I couldn’t believe it: my hope to learn more was about to be realised. ‘Really?’

Mum nodded.

‘And you wrote this?’

‘Yes,’ she smiled proudly, ‘I did. I’d like you to read it before—’

‘But, Mum—’ I opened my mouth to object to not getting my answers sooner, but Mum interrupted me in her turn.

‘I promise this journal will bring you up to speed,
and anything you want to know after that I’ll gladly tell you. Deal?’

‘Sure.’ I raced out of the kitchen and back up to my room, eager to discover if there was any news of Mathu in here. I was also curious to find out just how well informed about cosmic affairs my mother and father truly were.

I hadn’t long arrived back in Australia following my misadventure in the Sinai with Christian Molier and company, when an archaeological group contacted me—at least, at the time I assumed they were an archaeological organisation. They called themselves the Alkazar Project and said they had discovered a way to unlock the legendary Hall of Records fabled to be hidden beneath the rear paws of the Sphinx on the Giza plateau in Egypt. They anticipated needing a translator to decipher the texts they expected to find there, and I was their first and only choice for the job. The project certainly seemed right up my alley and the money they were offering made the prospect very attractive. However, I had only just married my dear husband and was not yet ready to leave him for months on end. The project leader was very understanding and insisted that I bring Albray along—little did I realise that my husband was as integral to the opening of the Hall of Records as I was.

It was on the plane en route to Giza that my nausea and vomiting started. I was normally a very good traveller and so my first conclusion was that I was coming down with something. When Albray and I arrived at the hotel in Giza, which had the most spectacular views of the Pyramids, we were advised that the Alkazar Project leader, Jamila Paki, wished to have a private meeting with us in our suite that evening. As I was still feeling rather poorly, this arrangement suited me just fine.

After a sleep, a swim and a meal, I felt much improved. By the time reception rang to advise that Miss Paki and her associate were on their way up, I was well enough to be excited about the pending meeting.

When I opened the door to greet my new employers I nearly died of shock, for accompanying Miss Paki was a treasured friend from my Sinai adventure.

‘I told you that we’d meet again,’ the tall Arab, dressed all in black, said to me with a smile.

‘Akbar!’ I threw myself into his embrace—a mode of greeting we were both comfortable with after all that we had been through together. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Inside,’ he advised, indicating that we should not speak in the hall.

‘I’m so sorry.’ I remembered my manners and invited Akbar and his tiny associate inside. Our guests entered and I closed the door behind them. ‘You must be Miss Paki.’ I held out my hand to shake hers.

‘Call me Jamila, please,’ the woman implored.

Jamila was not at all what I’d expected. She had a very jovial, friendly face that beamed with vitality
despite her age—I was guessing she was a good twenty years older than I. She was dressed in brightly patterned flowing robes and looked more like a holy woman than an archaeologist. What was more, she held my hand as a dear old friend might.

‘And you are Mia,’ she said. ‘I have heard
so
much about you.’

Well, at least now I knew who her source was, and perhaps why I had been her only choice for the job.

Akbar’s attention turned to my husband. He bowed. ‘Albe-Ra, what an honour it is to meet you again.’

Albray was taken aback, for he had not gone by that name since the thirteenth century. ‘I think you are mistaken,’ he said.

Akbar smiled and looked to Jamila, who backed up his assumption. ‘There is no mistaking you, Shining One, these eyes see all,’ she said, gesturing both to herself and Akbar.

It seemed my first impression of Jamila had been spot-on: she was a psychic not an archaeologist, and one of great merit if she was in the company of Akbar, who was a member of an ancient brotherhood known as the Melchi.

‘What is going on here?’ I said warily. ‘Why do I get the distinct feeling that we have been lured here under false pretences?’

‘Everything I told you on the phone is true,’ Jamila defended with a smile. ‘If you will allow us the opportunity, I shall be happy to clarify the situation for you.’

I looked to my husband to gauge his feelings on the matter. He smiled and motioned our guests to take a seat on the lounge.

‘You’re not an archaeologist, are you?’ I asked Jamila once we were all comfortable.

She appeared amused by the question and paused before responding. ‘I am what you might call a spiritual archaeologist. I am a seeker of ancient souls—souls such as you three—sent to Earth to fulfil a specific purpose in the great cosmic scheme of things.’

‘Three?’ I queried; was she including Akbar in this equation?

‘You, Albe-Ra and your unborn child,’ she said, leaving my husband and me gobsmacked.

‘You think I’m pregnant?’ I asked, panicked and excited at once. Was that the reason I had been so ill?

‘You
are
pregnant,’ she assured me, ‘and the child you are carrying is of vital import to Earth’s evolution at this time.’

‘What!’ Too much information—I was overwhelmed.

‘Why are you surprised?’ Jamila reasoned. ‘Consider the extraordinary circumstances by which you and Albe-Ra have been brought together across time and space. Did you honestly think that the mighty Elohim had brought forth this greatest of Grail Princes from the Middle Ages and paired him with you, a Dragon Queen, for no good reason?’

I looked to Akbar, annoyed that he had told Jamila about my little family secret.

‘I said nothing,’ he defended, in response to my glare. ‘Jamila sought me out and she already knew all about you. It was Jamila who enlightened me as to the origins of your companion, as indeed she enlightened me to a great many truths about myself.’

If my memory served, I hadn’t told Akbar how I had met Albray, nor how it was that he had come to my aid in the Sinai last year, which seemed to indicate my friend was telling the truth.

‘How could you know about us?’ I asked Jamila, desperate for answers.

‘Your father told me about you,’ she said, and I near stopped breathing.

‘My father died before I was born, and my mother died before I was five,’ I said bitterly.

‘So you know little about your conception then?’ Jamila remained calm, knowing she was treading over what was very emotional ground for me.

I had recently been reading one of my foremother’s journals about her travels in Persia. In it, she had investigated her mother’s claim that she was seduced by an angel on her wedding night who possessed the body of her husband in order to mate with her and produce a human body capable of sustaining an angelic soul. If the child produced by the union was a girl, she would be a Dragon Queen. In all of the history of this planet, past and future, many were born into the Grail bloodline, but the Dragon Queens numbered only six and one—just as the true Grail Princes numbered only six and one. According to Ashlee’s account, twelve of these souls came from a race of advanced humans, the Ceres, who lived on our planet in the harmonic universe above our own. The other two souls were of a different race entirely, known as the Anunnaki.

‘Are you implying I am a daughter of Sama-El?’ I said.

Sama-El was the serpent in the Garden of Eden, which was why his progeny were known as Dragons. It was said that, through the bodies of human men,
he had fathered all of these queens and their princes; it was also he who reminded them of their mission here on Earth, once they had evolved sufficiently.

Jamila nodded. ‘It is he who instructed me to seek you out at this time and enlighten you as to the quest you are destined to perform.’

‘Why now?’ Naturally, I was suspicious.

‘Your destiny had to be given time to unfold,’ Jamila explained, ‘for your task requires three unique souls: Albe-Ra, the holder of the orangegold flame of Earth’s morphogenetic field; you, the bearer of the blue flame consciousness of Tara; and your daughter, the holder of the violet flame consciousness of Gaia.’

You could have scooped my jaw off the ground. Ashlee’s journal had predicted that her daughter Charlotte would reincarnate, and when she did she would carry the violet flame.

‘How can you know for sure that we are the three flame-bearers?’ Albray interrupted. ‘For it will mean certain death to the three of us if you are wrong.’

I turned to my husband. ‘Hold on…you know what this is all about?’

Albray nodded. ‘A very old prophecy…more ancient than I.’

I felt rather irked that my husband had never mentioned this. ‘Would you care to enlighten me?’

‘My love,’ he began, sensing my mood and thoughts, ‘it has never once occurred to me that we might have anything to do with the legend in question.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I changed my tone to one more accommodating. ‘This is all such a shock.’

‘For me too,’ he assured me.

Jamila offered me a more detailed explanation. ‘The Hall of Records is a fourth-dimensional porthole passage and storage area that connects the morphogenetic fields of Earth, Tara and Gaia—it is a conduit through which data from the Akashic record of the five harmonic universes can be downloaded. The Hall of Records can only be opened by three specific individuals—a man who holds the two-dimensional orange-gold flame, a female who holds the fifth-dimensional blue flame, and another female who holds the violet flame of dimension seven. Once opened, universal memory will come “online”, so to speak. The Sphere of Amenti will release this coded data into the Earth’s grid, where it can be picked up by the human bio-energetic field and translated into conscious information by any being who has managed to assemble the fourth DNA strand or higher.’

I was only more perplexed. ‘I still don’t understand what the term flame-bearer means.’

‘When I speak of the coloured flames, I am referring to the multiple bands of frequency that compose the morphogenetic fields,’ Jamila said. When she saw the frown on my face deepening, she tried to simplify. ‘Take your husband, for example: he holds the orange-gold flame, which is the standing wave pattern that composes the frequencies of dimensions one to three, which you may know as density, the etheric or underworld, and the physical world.’

‘Gotcha,’ I said, finally starting to understand.

‘The blue flame-bearer—you, Mia—holds the frequency patterns of dimensions four to six—’

‘The astral, mental and causal realms,’ I cut in,
showing off my newly acquired esoteric understanding.

‘Exactly. And the violet-flame holder, your daughter, holds the frequency pattern of dimension seven, through which Tara’s dimensions eight to twelve can be accessed—and this is the primary goal of evolution. Flame-bearers carry a specific magnetic base tone within their DNA—the Gene of Isis—that allows their bio-energetic system to become highly magnetic in order to activate this recessive gene. Without this gene, the human body would be ripped apart when attempting to fulfil the flamebearers’ essential role—to open the Hall of Records. Many have attempted this feat, but only the three flame-bearers combined possess the frequency codes that allow them to act as conduits for downloading the transmissions from the Akashic Record.’

‘But there must be thousands of people who have the Gene of Isis in their DNA,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ agreed Jamila, ‘I myself am a carrier. However, I am not the chosen bearer of the blue flame, nor am I pregnant with the violet flamebearer.’

I looked to Albray, who appeared as bewildered as I was.

‘You both need time to process this information,’ Jamila said, apparently reading our minds. ‘We shall return in the morning to speak more.’ She stood, as did Akbar.

‘Until tomorrow.’ Akbar smiled and bowed his head to us.

My Arab friend seemed happy and excited, quite unlike the serious, reserved person I’d met in the Sinai. This assignment obviously thrilled him. I could not say I felt the same. The news of my
pregnancy changed everything, for if it proved true, mine was no longer the only life at risk when I entered precarious ancient places.

Albray embraced me the second I closed the door on our guests. ‘We are with child,’ he said, and squeezed me, obviously delighted by the prospect.

‘My love, nobody speaks like that any more. And I don’t think we should celebrate being parents until I can confirm Jamila’s prediction.’ I didn’t want to get too excited by the possibility, yet I could not wipe the grin from my face.

‘How can we do that?’ he asked. Having been in the twenty-first century for only a few months, he was unaware of all it had to offer.

‘I’ll go down to the hotel chemist and buy a pregnancy test, I guess.’

‘I’ll go,’ Albray volunteered, eager to run off some of his excited energy. ‘You rest.’ He kissed my forehead and headed for the door.

‘Honey…’ I spied his wallet sitting on the table, and when he turned back I referred him to it.

‘Ah, right.’ He grinned at his own absentmindedness. ‘I might need that.’ He grabbed the wallet and kissed me again before heading out the door.

Less than a quarter of an hour later, my pregnancy was confirmed; if we were to believe Jamila’s prophecy, we were expecting a daughter. Albray was over the moon, having longed for centuries to start a family. I wanted to be excited, and was delighted by the prospect of parenthood, but the professional aspect of me regretted the fact that a child was going to curtail my professional commitments considerably. When I explained my
concerns to Albray, he understood, but pointed out that until such options were put to me, I was worrying about something that did not exist.

‘But what about the opening of the Hall of Records?’ I said. ‘You don’t think such a task is going to be risk-free, surely?’

‘For the true flame-bearers it will be risk-free,’ he replied. ‘Let us wait and hear Jamila out before we put a damper on the best chance for the advancement of planetary consciousness, hey?’

His attitude was so relaxed that it calmed me too.

‘I won’t allow any harm to befall you or our daughter,’ he went on, then grinned, highly amused by his own words. ‘Our daughter,’ he repeated, ‘that just sounds so peculiar coming out of
my
mouth.’

‘I know what you mean…
Dad
,’ I teased and my own face split in a huge grin again.

‘I like the sound of that,’ he said, placing his palm flat against my belly. ‘In here grows the key to a higher harmonic universe and we made her.’