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    The Black Madonna (The Mystique Trilogy)


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      To Chez,

      Thanks for providing a sanctuary

      for my well-being and creativity.

      I could never have completed this trilogy

      without you.

      Table of Contents

      Cover Page

      Dedication

      List of Characters

      A Note from the Author, Mia Devere

      Part 1 The Absent Prince

      Chapter 1 Triogenes—Montségur

      Chapter 2 Kali’s Mission

      Chapter 3 Soul Trade

      Chapter 4 The Time Lord

      Chapter 5 Compromised

      Chapter 6 Thoth—Giza

      Chapter 7 Strange Aura

      Chapter 8 Inter-Dimensional Terrorism

      Chapter 9 Arlis-Cochizel—Land’s End

      Chapter 10 Blindsided

      Chapter 11 Crafty Women

      Chapter 12 Two Princes

      Chapter 13 Ill Will

      Part 2 Timewalkers

      Chapter 14 Sophia-Hokhmat—Nova Scotia

      Chapter 15 The Dreamkeeper—Australia

      Chapter 16 Descent Into the Underworld

      Chapter 17 Hathor—Mount Shasta

      Chapter 18 Deceiving Appearances

      Chapter 19 Irkalla

      Chapter 20 Montauk—Long Island

      Chapter 21 Points of Interface

      Chapter 22 The Recruit

      Chapter 23 Enoch—New Mexico

      Chapter 24 Hell Of Eternal Sleep And Darkness

      Chapter 25 Xerthaneus—Antarctica

      Chapter 26 Taming The Shrew

      Part 3 Quantum Warfare

      Chapter 27 Sphere Of The Blue Flame

      Chapter 28 Psychosis

      Chapter 29 The Peace Project

      Chapter 30 Covert Operations

      Chapter 31 Rainbow Round Table

      Chapter 32 Defeating Fate

      Chapter 33 The Descending Spiral—2976 AD

      Chapter 34 Sleeping Beauty

      Chapter 35 Ice Breaking

      Chapter 36 Meltdown

      Chapter 37 The Ascending Spiral—2017 AD

      Chapter 38 Star-Crossed Lover?

      Chapter 39 The Draconesses

      Chapter 40 Passive Force

      Chapter 41 Unity

      Chapter 42 Micro-Death

      Chapter 43 Macro-Life

      Chapter 44 End of the Rift

      Epilogue

      Glossary

      Bibliography

      Internet References

      Acknowledgements

      About the Author

      Books by Traci Harding

      Copyright

      About the Publisher

      LIST OF CHARACTERS

      The Staff of Amenti

      DEXTER aka Taylor

      VESPERA aka Ajalae Koriche

      ARCTURUS aka Albray Devere

      MERIDAN aka Mia Devere (Montrose)

      POLARIS aka Captain Sinclair; Earnest Devere

      SOLARIAN aka Ashlee Granville-Devere

      LEVI aka Levi Granville-Devere

      THANA aka Lillet du Lac

      CASTOR aka King Arthur; James Devere

      TALORI aka Susan Devere

      ZALMAN aka Akbar

      DENERA aka Lillith; Lady Charlotte Cavandish

      KALI aka Tamar Devere

      MATHU aka Thoth; Hermes

      The Nefilim

      ILL aka Enlil—Lord of the Nefilim

      ERRAGAL aka Jeb Savage—Lord of the Underworld

      NAMTAR aka Morell Labontè—Viceroy of the Underworld

      ERESHKIGAL aka Co-co Yamamoto—Queen of the Underworld

      ISHTAR aka Sabine Labontè—Goddess of Desire

      ISHKUR aka ‘Wildcat’ Steve Marx—Storm God

      The Smiter

      The Anu

      Lugh Lamhfada

      Ki aka En Ki, the Sanat Kumara

      Sud aka Ninlil

      The Dracon

      Taejax

      Pax

      Jinx

      Rattus

      Ruffinnic

      Jezabel

      Angelica

      Site Crew—Montségur

      André Pierre, site chief

      Dr Colin Rich, project anthropologist

      Emmett Rich, Dr Rich’s son

      Killian Labontè, project benefactor

      The Guardians of the Seven Gates of Hell

      Shock

      Denial

      Anger

      Unfinished Business

      Depression

      Acceptance

      Death

      Additional Character

      Sharon, Killian’s assistant

      A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR, MIA DEVERE

      Time has no meaning for me any more. I have been backwards and forwards through history so often that past and future have melded into an all-consuming now.

      The time lines of the physical world are precarious and liable to change at the slightest provocation. We, the staff of Amenti—designers of Earth’s evolutionary scheme—knew this before we agreed to take part in the Amenti Project. What we did not anticipate was this: that our antagonists here on Earth would devise their own means to move through time and alter history.

      Hence, the staff of Amenti have become humanity’s mercenaries in the resulting inter-time war. Ancient time zones, and those in the distant future, are no longer accessible to us or to our adversaries, as time is collapsing from both the alpha and omega ends of its flimsy existence.

      A crisis point will be reached at midnight on 21 December of this year, 2017—the moment of judgement that psychics and prophets have been predicting for aeons. For the majority of people living on this planet, it will pass unnoticed. It will not be marked by fire and brimstone falling from the sky, or plagues, or the hand of God crushing us all from on high—all that will come, but later.

      That crisis point moment is humanity’s last chance to open the gateway home to the multi-dimensional universe from whence we originally came and were so unfairly torn. The fate of all rests upon the vibrational frequency of humanity’s combined consciousness at this time and, despite our ignorance, we will be judged.

      Our Earth is dying. It is being murdered by the hidden enemies of humanity who hope to enslave us. All they have to do is keep us preoccupied, greedy and self-obsessed until the current Stellar Activation Cycle ends. This Stellar Activation Cycle (SAC), which began on 21 December 2012—the end of the Mayan calendar—is when Earth aligns with its higher planetary bodies in the harmonic universes and the stargates to these universes open. It is an ascension event that only happens for five years in every twenty-five thousand. If we do not succeed in opening the Halls of Amenti then, our last chance to escape this dying planet will be lost. All life on Earth—including those of us who volunteered to be guardians of this project—shall perish.

      With only eight months remaining, the staff of Amenti have several concerns, but none so pressing as the full reactivation of all twelve stations in the Earth’s Signet Grid. It is hoped that the combined energy and inspiration of the fully functional Signet Grid will be enough to raise the planetary consciousness of the Earth to a level where it might again host the Sphere of Amenti.

      All but one of the fourteen soul minds of Amenti’s staff are now fully aware and have taken up their positions on the Amenti Project. Naturally the disappearance of one of our staff members, Mathu, is another grave concern. For without all fourteen members of our team there shall be no going home for any of us.

      The thirteen souls with whom I share my destiny—Polaris and Solarian, Talori and Castor, Vespera and Dexter, Levi and Thana, Denera and Zalman, Kali and Mathu, and my partner, Arcturus—have been my dearest friends, my family, my lovers and children throughout every major incarnation I have en
    dured in Earth’s evolutionary scheme.

      It is no accident that I am the sixth and last of the Dragon Queens to have been born, or that it has fallen to me to compile and record our secret history. For I am the key-holder to Signet Station Twelve, named Triogenes, which resonates with the frequency of ‘the storyteller’.

      Due to the constant time-hopping activities of my fellow Amenti members and myself, it will be near impossible to form a straight time line of events. But I shall endeavour to do so with a little help from my daughter, Tamar, now better known to the staff of Amenti as Kali, and my sisters: Solarian, the once prolific Ashlee Granville-Devere; and Talori, who has also contributed to our family histories in her lifetime as Lady Susan Devere.

      Since taking up my position on the staff of Amenti, I have been telepathically linked to the other six females on the staff, known in legend as the Dragon Queens. And so it is that my Dragon sisters can lend to me their perspective of events so that I may set pen to paper again to record this final chapter in the history of the Grail bloodline.

      PART 1

      THE ABSENT PRINCE

      CHAPTER 1

      TRIOGENES—MONTSÉGUR

      In cycles the legends come forth,

      each with its own cast of characters,

      incorporated into a work without beginning or end,

      but forever perpetuating new stories.

      In myth, they are the keys to the creation process,

      to the great mysteries of creation and humanity.

      Imagination flows from the Triogenes,

      not bound by space or time,

      to be entered as desired

      by any soul mind with the patience to listen

      to the flow of creation.

      For in truth,

      all is myth,

      myth is all.

      I was lost in contemplation out the window of the private aircraft that was carrying me towards my Signet station at Montségur.

      It felt rather surreal to be embarking on my first official mission as an Amenti staff member, along with my husband, Albray—Amenti code name Arcturus—and our thirteen-year-old daughter, Tamar. Our task was to secure and open my Signet station, for an archaeological excavation had broken through to its outer labyrinth and, although there was no chance of anyone finding the station hidden within, we did not wish to attract any attention to the area. It was our job to keep any discoveries made beneath Montségur under wraps.

      As fate would have it, the head excavator at Montségur, André Pierre, was an old friend and admirer of my translation skills of ancient languages. So when the project leaders broke through to the labyrinth and discovered ancient text therein, their first call was to me, to assist with translation. The excavation project had found symbols associated with the Knights Templar, side by side with well-known emblems of the Cathars—much like those found nearby in the grottoes of Sabarthez. Hence my husband had also been invited to join the excavation project due to his expertise on the period that had seen the demise of the Cathars. Of course, the fact that Albray had actually been there to witness the burning fields of Montségur in the thirteenth century had a bit to do with his knowledge.

      Dangerous circumstances lay ahead of us, hardly the kind of situation that most parents would choose to lead their teenage daughter into—but then Tamar was no ordinary teenager.

      On Tamar’s thirteenth birthday, her biological clock triggered the integration of her consciousness with the advanced extraterrestrial soul mind of the Anunnaki Queen Kali, who had been lying dormant in our daughter’s non-coding DNA since her conception. In less than a week Tamar developed into a mature woman, more beautiful, more intelligent and infinitely more powerful than any other being on Earth.

      This would have been truly horrifying for me to witness had a prophetess not given me prior warning of the event, and still I was finding the adjustment far more difficult than my daughter was. The part of me that was Mia Devere, Tamar’s human biological mother, was compelled to question, challenge and teach her. The part of me that was my higher self, Meridan, mistrusted the Anunnaki race, of which Kali was queen, for their offences against humanity both in this universal dimension and the next.

      Few traces of my little girl were still apparent in the woman I now saw when I looked at Tamar. Her long, straight, near-black hair she had inherited from her father, but her once brown eyes had now turned a deep shade of violet and her skin was darker, more akin to the Anunnaki. Her tall, slender form made her appear a little fragile, and her outer beauty stopped traffic, yet she had the psychic power and physical capability to destroy the most hardened and skilled warriors.

      Our fellow staff members suspected that the Montségur project was being secretly backed by our foe, the Nefilim, or their Illuminati operatives, and Tamar’s purpose on this mission was to sniff out any Nefilim involvement. Albray and I had been given very strict instructions to give her a free rein; despite any parental instinct we might feel, we were not to question her methods.

      I was a little perturbed about the black mini-dress and high heels Tamar had decided to wear today—André Pierre was a renowned womaniser, and the outfit made her look as if she’d just stepped off a catwalk in Milan. When I mentioned this, Tamar only grinned.

      ‘All the easier for me to siphon information from him. The majority of human males are easily manipulated by their desires, and this is doubly true of Nefilim males,’ she said.

      ‘Am I supposed to find that reassuring?’ Albray lowered his paper to have a quiet word. ‘This body is my daughter’s temple, so do try to be a little selective about who worships it. Please, Kali,’ he added, realising that she was no longer bound to listen to him or follow his advice.

      ‘As there is only one being in this entire evolutionary scheme that I hold the slightest desire for, you need have no fear on that count,’ Tamar assured him. ‘You must trust that I know what I’m doing. No one knows the Nefilim like I do.’

      I sensed my husband felt a little silly at having pulled her up.

      ‘In that case…go get ‘em, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘Let me know if you need a hand at any time.’

      ‘I will,’ she promised, with a huge adoring smile, and Albray returned to his reading and I turned my gaze back out the window to the runway below.

      André Pierre met us at Toulouse airport in the project chopper. He was the best excavation manager in the business—if he couldn’t unearth an archaeological find intact, then no one could.

      My French friend removed his sunglasses when he saw my daughter coming. ‘Who is this beauty?’ he said with a smile, then recognised Tamar and burst out laughing. ‘Tamar! Could it have been so long? I thought you were still a…’ he searched for the word, ‘adolescent. You look fantastique!’

      He kissed both her cheeks and held her closer than usual.

      ‘Just celebrated her thirteenth birthday a couple of weeks ago,’ my husband informed him, and the embrace abruptly ended.

      ‘How cruel life is.’ André turned down the charm a little, but desire was in his eyes. He greeted Albray briefly before turning his attention my way.

      ‘Mia, my goddess, you look beyond fantastique.’ He held both my shoulders, kissed each of my cheeks in turn and then held me at arm’s length to admire my form. ‘I swear you look younger every time I see you.’

      I was perpetually thirty since I had walked the Halls of Amenti thirteen years ago; thus I appeared barely older than my rapidly maturing daughter.

      ‘And you are more in need of a wife every time I see you, mon ami.’ I held André’s face between my hands and shook it. ‘You look a mess.’

      I was referring to his unshaven, unkempt appearance. Tamar and Albray had a quiet chuckle at how quickly I’d brought André’s amorous advances under control.

      ‘I’ve been down a hole for weeks,’ he said defensively, backing away. He ran one hand over his unpressed clothes, and with the other combed his shoulder-length, unwashed, mousy-brown hair behind his ears.

      ‘You’re n
    ot eating properly either.’ My mothering tone served to remind the Frenchman that I was married with a child, whilst assuring him that I did still care about his welfare.

      ‘I’ve been busy.’ He smiled. ‘You know how it is. I get distracted.’

      ‘It must be exciting for you to be working in France for a change.’ I began fishing for information as we waited for our baggage to be loaded on board the chopper by the ground crew. ‘Is the project funded by the French as well?’

      ‘This project was the brainchild of a man by the name of Labontè,’ André said. ‘You may have heard of—’

      ‘The mining and media magnate Morell Labontè?’ I queried. I’d never heard anything about the wealthy tycoon’s interest in archaeology; goldmining was what he was known for.

      ‘No,’ André corrected, ‘his son, Killian—’

      ‘The thrill-seeking, socialite playboy?’ Tamar butted in, having read about Killian Labontè’s exploits in teen mags.

      ‘En effet,’ André confirmed. ‘He has a very keen interest in the occult and in the Holy Grail in particular.’

      ‘He’s following Otto Rahn’s theory that the Grail was hidden beneath Montségur by the Cathars,’ I guessed, and glanced at Albray. He looked amused, for he had been the knight who had helped in sneaking Montségur’s sacred treasures from the mount.

      ‘The Grail itself may not be hidden beneath the mount of Montségur,’ André said, ‘but it is certainly an area where the Grail legends converge and our employer is paying us to discover why.’

      ‘Hey, if there’s a good pay cheque in it…’ My husband shrugged, playing up his scepticism.

      ‘Labontè’s hunches have proven excellent so far,’ André said, suggesting we not pass judgement until we had seen the find for ourselves.

      The excavation site was rather larger than I had expected. Labontè’s team had unearthed the remains of a thirteenth-century village at the base of the mountain and re-opened a secret cave, the entrance to which had collapsed centuries ago.

     

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