Gene of Isis (51 page)

‘The storm has passed and they are eager to escort us back to the Suez.’ The gypsy was hoisted to his feet by two large Arabs.

‘No! I refuse to leave!’ I tore myself away from my captor and, to my horror, I also wrested from him his large curved sword, which was extremely heavy.

‘Susan, no!’ my husband appealed, fearing that the Arab men would not tolerate a woman’s defiance as well as an Englishman might.

The Arabs reacted to my protest rather more favourably than expected—they all fell about laughing as they watched me struggle with two hands to keep the sword in the air. ‘I’ve been stampeded, lied to, hypnotised and
kidnapped…twice!’
I was forced to lower the tip of the weighty sword to the
floor, so I changed my grip to hold it as one would a cricket bat. ‘I am not giving up on Ashlee now!’

The Arab leader motioned to his men to retrieve the weapon from me, and with all my male companions firmly restrained, several of the dark warriors closed in on me.

I began to feel a little woozy; I hadn’t had much to eat recently. Then, my lightheaded and hauntingly sensual giddiness turned to strength and confidence. I raised the Saracen sword with the greatest of ease and wielded it around myself with complete familiarity. Then words began to gush forth from my mouth in the Arab dialect, and even more astounding was the fact that I understood every word. ‘I am Albe-Ra, guardian of this mount and servant to the great goddesses of the Elohim. It is by their command that you will release those trapped in the temple of the Star-Fire or perish on this sword.’

‘Oh, my goodness.’ Cingar was stunned.

‘What?’ My Lord Devere was totally out of his depth, unable to believe his wife’s show with the sword, nor the foreign dialect that I was suddenly sprouting. ‘What did she say?’

‘She claims to be Albe-Ra,’ the gypsy informed him, as bemused as the Arabs were by the idea.

‘What!’ My husband nearly had a fit! ‘First, my Lady Devere is hypnotised by a vampire, and now she is possessed by a six-hundred-year-old ghost! Could it be Molier again? He could be trying to get us all killed!’

‘I doubt very much Molier would claim to be Albray Devere,’ Malory said. ‘They were arch-enemies. ’

‘Kill her,’ decided the Arab leader. ‘For abusing the name of the great one.’

My husband struggled to free himself as I stepped up to fight several of our captors. ‘For god’s sake, Susan, please!’

In all likelihood I would have refrained, had I had any control over my limbs. I could scarcely believe the precision and ease with which I fended off my attackers and I felt not the slightest fear for my safety. I even managed to disable my opponents with superficial limb injuries.

‘Albe-Ra was said to be one of the greatest swordsmen to have ever lived,’ Malory commented to my stupefied husband.

‘Praise god for small mercies,’ Lord Devere mumbled in reply. ‘Or should I say, praise the goddess?’ His eyes remained glued to me, and he suddenly couldn’t help but grin with pride.

Having witnessed ten of his finest warriors vested of their weapons, the Arab leader called for his men to fall back. Removing his cloak, he drew his sword. ‘Only if you can defeat me, shall I concede you are Albe-Ra.’

‘And you will see to my request?’ I demanded.

‘I will permit you to carry out your wishes,’ he allowed.

‘What I wouldn’t give for a pistol right now.’ Lord Devere again tried to pry himself free, which only served to gain him a punch in the stomach.

‘Have a little faith in divine intervention,’ Malory advised, his eyes fixed on the duel.

‘That is easy for you to say. She’s not your wife!’ my lord gasped, winded by the blow.

‘At present, I don’t believe she is your wife.’ Malory’s attention was riveted to the swordfight. ‘But the Lady Devere is, in all likelihood, the most
psychically adept among us, which is why the guardian spirit has chosen to work through her.’

‘Just wonderful,’ my lord grumbled. ‘The last thing our family needs is another Ashlee Granville.’

‘On the contrary, the world needs all the Ashlee Granvilles it can get.’ Malory winced as I nearly tripped on my skirt.

Damn dresses!
I heard a male voice in my mind.
What is wrong with women wearing trousers anyway?
My heart was thumping nineteen to the dozen as I regained my footing.

‘Come, my lady,’ the Arab said. ‘You are very skilled, but you shall only get yourself killed if you persist.’

‘Better to risk death than to allow a daughter of Isis to perish, and fail in my sworn duty.’ My retort struck a chord with my adversary.

‘You are lying.’ The Arab backed off, just to be sure. ‘The woman in the mount is no daughter of Isis.’

‘I assure you that she is,’ I said. ‘Both the woman, and her husband who is trapped with her, bear the mark to prove it.’

Every Arab in the room gasped, and Cingar too.

‘What?’
Lord Devere was going insane with not being able to understand the proceedings.

The Arab leader lowered his sword to stare deep into my eyes. ‘If you lie, I shall trap all of your people in the mount and release the scarabs to ensure that no trace of you survives.’

‘I thank you.’ I bowed to honour his judgement.

My companions were hauled out of the cave ahead of me. Their anxiey was not eased when Cingar explained the arrangement that had been reached.

‘You know the whereabouts of the secret deposit of
Thummim-Schethiya
buried in the Temple of Hathor?’ I asked the Arab leader, and he appeared truly flabbergasted.

‘I am one of a handful who do.’ He came to a standstill. ‘How do you know of it?’

I smiled and shrugged, as if that was elementary. ‘I am Albe-Ra.’

The torch on the wall was dimming in the thinning air and I was feeling decidedly lightheaded. My husband and I sat at the base of the pathway and were refraining from speech and movement to conserve what air remained.

I still clutched the Star vial in my hand. The substance had restored life to the son of Gasgon de Guise, and I had suggested consuming this substance as an alternative to abusing the Fire-Stone of his forefathers. Devere had agreed that this was more appropriate. The Star had a history of being fed to men by the priestesses of the Great Mother to enhance their bravery in the face of death, he had said.

My husband cited an incident written of by a priestess, Lillet du Lac, the day before the fall of Montségur in 1244AD. The name of the priestess was all too familiar to me, and I asked how the Sangreal knighthood had come by the journals of such a woman. Apparently, those of her order had been closely allied to many of the secret brotherhoods that were thriving at that time—the Sangrèal included. The priestess, one of the few of her faith who had escaped the siege, had lived out her days at Chateau Blancheford in France, chronicling the events of the
time. Most of her writings had been duplicated and distributed to the Grail brotherhoods for their future reference and safekeeping.

My mind dwelt on the priestess’ current spiritual plight, and Albray’s, and if I accomplished nothing else in my lifetime, I still had enough of my sensibilities to appeal their cause.

‘Where are you going?’ Devere whispered as I rose.

‘I’ll be back,’ I assured him. ‘But there is something I have to do.’

I knelt underneath the centre of the large chamber’s golden dome, surrounded by the four pillars depicting the key goddesses of the Elohim, and bowed my head to pray for the first time in my life.

In
the name of the Mother,
I held both hands to my forehead;
the daughters,
I covered my heart and then my womb;
and the holy ghost,
I held my hands together in front of the light centre of my solar plexus
…It has always been difficult for me to place my trust in any being apart from myself, but during this quest
I
have developed a glimmer of understanding of the source of my rare gifts. Ladies of the Elohim,
I
thank you for choosing me to continue your tradition and purpose here on earth, and
I
am indebted to you for your aid and support. However,
I
have one more request to ask of you and that is that you release the knight Albray from your service and allow him to move on to a better stage of existence, where he might finally find a happy and prosperous life.

It is not a curse of our design that keeps Albe-Ra in our service.

I raised my eyes to perceive a ghostly apparition: an Eastern woman attired in a long, flowing black
robe.
Lillet,
I wondered, although the comely woman’s attire and free-flowing black ringlets reflected a warmer climate and less prudish eras than the Middle Ages.

The glowing apparition shook her head. I
am one of her kin, as I am one of yours.

She spoke to me in perfect English, and yet echoing below this I also heard another dialect whispered—my mind was translating her discourse.

And I can assure you that all your foremothers together could not release our knight from what he feels is his duty, for he has a score to settle. I’m afraid there is no dismissing him before certain matters are laid to rest.

Molier.
My heart sank. I’d come so close to destroying Molier today. Albray must have been devastated to discover that even a daughter of the blood as psychically adept as I could not vanquish the creature that was stifling his future existence. Was my failing him the reason he would not come to my aid now?

I believe you know our knight better than to entertain such a notion…
the lady of spirit sought to put my mind at rest.
It was not your destiny to free Albray, but to return our treasures to their resting place. You aided Albray to complete half his chosen mission.

I was finding it difficult to focus on the lady. Her presence was becoming blurred.
But when will the other half be fulfilled?

One of our future daughters will aid our favourite son to final victory,
she assured me with a smile. Pass
on all the knowledge you have gained during your quest and rest assured that Albe-Ra will discover, just as you have, that love always finds a way.

But
—I lost my balance and crashed to the ground, feeling unconsciousness taking hold.

‘Ashlee!’ I heard my husband cry. ‘The gateway is opening! We’re saved!’

A gust of fresh air washed over me, but it was not enough to keep me from my slumber.

‘Damn you, Ashlee!’ I glanced over the journal page that followed. It was an epilogue detailing the events that occurred after my foremother’s return to England. The text made no further reference to her dialogue with the mysterious female apparition about Albray’s future, and it did not seem to mention anything about the other mysteries contained within the Star-Fire Temple.

Am I the future daughter to whom the spirit lady referred?
I pondered this momentarily but, as I was still very much in the mindset of my great-great-grandmother, I decided to rephrase the question. ‘I am the daughter to whom the lady referred,’ I stated surely. For who could possibly love Albray more than I? Lillet, perhaps? Ashlee’s account of the personal discussions she’d had with our knight seemed to imply that his relationship with the priestess was more one of deep respect and obligation. Even Lillet herself had claimed that Albray was in love with me! I hated to think that I could not solve this dilemma; that it would fall to some future daughter of the blood to release Albray
at last. I felt too much for him to allow him to suffer any longer.

I looked at the clock on my computer to discover that it was now past midday. I was running out of time to find a stone through which I might summon Albray back to my counsel. I had learned much from Ashlee’s account about how Molier might be bested. Molier’s demise was the key to freeing Albray from his vow to my foremothers, that was now clear. And yet, my knight had done all within his power to prevent me from opening the gateway for Molier. Was his concern for my welfare so great that he would deny himself his only shot at freedom out of concern for my safety and wellbeing?

I felt suddenly suffocated by the overwhelming emotions the realisation stirred in me. All that time Albray had spent complaining about my lack of psychic expertise might have been in order to protect me. There was also a distinct possibility that it was the treasures within the temple that he ultimately sought to protect. The thought brought my runaway sentiments back into check.

It didn’t matter either way; the point was that I loved him. I could finish Ashlee’s journal at some later date. It was time for me to turn all the knowledge I had gained in the past few days into a plan. ‘The first thing I need is a stone.’

I headed outside to begin my search, when the sound of helicopters approaching sent a chill through my body. There was enough time to have the grand opening of the gateway this afternoon and the team would be eager to test my theory as soon as possible.

I need more time to prepare!
I panicked inside.
I have no hope of succeeding without Albray.
My eyes
dropped to the ground to scour the rocky landscape for a stone in the form of a ring.

‘Mia! I have returned!’ Andre spied me searching around a pile of rocks near our campsite. He threw down his hand luggage and approached with arms wide. ‘A great day for making history, don’t you think?’ He indicated the cloudless sky and the hot sun pelting down, before he hugged me tight and kissed both my cheeks.

‘Yes, wonderful.’ I forced myself to sound enthusiastic, my eyes still scanning the ground.

‘Have you lost something?’ Andre noted my distraction.

‘You could say that.’

‘Not to worry.’ He embraced my shoulders with one arm and squeezed. ‘I feel sure it is nothing compared to what you are about to find.’ Andre spotted the huge addition to our campsite. ‘What is this?’

‘It’s Molier’s mobile home and office,’ I informed him.

‘Molier is here!’ Andre was so excited that he let me go and headed off toward the container. ‘This is fantastic! Come, I must introduce you.’ He turned and beckoned me forth.

‘We’ve met, actually.’ I declined, remaining where I was.

‘This is great.’ Andre was referring to Molier’s presence. ‘Now there will surely be no delays. Today is the day, Mia.’ He winked. ‘I make you famous!’ He strode off and knocked on Molier’s door, before I had the chance to suggest that tomorrow might be better.

Tusca Resi opened the door and invited Andre inside.

How much do Molier’s associates actually know about him?
They all seemed blissfully unaware that he was a centuries-old, shape-shifting, blood-drinking demon.

As the secretary waved to me and I returned the gesture, I considered that perhaps I did wish to see Molier again.

There is no point in having psychic ability if you don’t use it!
I recalled Albray’s words of wisdom.

I held up a finger to Tusca to implore her to hold the door as I ran to join the meeting.
Time to confirm Molier’s identity one way or the other.

Molier met with us around the same table upon which we’d had dinner the night before, but today it had a boardroom function.

‘You have the shipment of powder I ordered?’ Molier questioned Andre, as I quietly focused my third eye upon Molier’s aura.

‘Oui,’
Andre confirmed, a little puzzled, ‘but if you were coming for the grand opening, then why did you not bring the crate with you?’

A very good question.
My gaze did not waver from Molier, despite my mind wandering. I was finding it much harder to perceive Molier’s aura than I had Akbar’s this morning—perhaps my energies were too scattered.

‘My presence here was a spur-of-the-moment decision…’ Molier said ‘…that I made after arranging the shipment. Clearly, my modes of travel are far speedier than those of your average freighting company,’ he joked. ‘But the important thing is that the shipment is now here.’

Just what had suddenly inspired Molier to attend the opening? He would have already been aware of
my presence on-site when he’d sent the shipment of ORME powder. Had he discovered Albray’s presence? That certainly might have inspired him to come to oversee the operation and ensure that his old rival didn’t get in the way.

I gave up on trying to scrutinise Molier’s aura, as I was far too interested in the conversation. ‘How did you manage to get your hands on the hidden cache of ORME that Petrie uncovered in 1904?’

‘My family managed to purchase a very small sample of that original cache—’ he began.

‘But the crate we took possession of is huge!’ emphasised Andre.

‘That is because ORME production is now a thriving operation among governments and corporate players who control the gold and PGM supplies.’ Molier grinned.

‘PGMs?’ Andre queried.

‘Platinum Group Metals…traces of which often exist as silvery deposits in gold and are usually extracted from gold to ensure its purity. When the atoms of these metals are set into a high-spin state you get ORME—an Orbitally Rearranged Monatomic Element that is highly superconductive,’ I explained without thinking. It would probably have been better for Molier to believe me ignorant on the subject.

‘You have been doing your homework, Dr Montrose,’ Molier granted. ‘The manufacture is all very hush-hush, of course. ORME was rediscovered in 1996 by a simple farmer, of all people. Once he discovered the superconductivity and other inexplicable, exotic properties of the substance, he planned to go into full-scale public production of the substance and sell it to whoever wanted it. But due to
the great potential of this substance for all manner of research into fuel cells, anti-gravity, DNA and nanotechnology, the original rediscoverer of ORME was regulated out of existence by certain government departments. The farmer had been warned that if certain corporations weren’t a secret partner in selected ventures the project would never be allowed to go ahead.’

‘You wouldn’t happen to own one of those said corporations, would you, Mr Molier?’ I asked, but the man only smiled in response.

‘The small sample of the original substance found by Petrie has served to confirm that we have indeed rediscovered the mysterious miracle substance that made the ancients and their structures so mighty,’ Molier concluded.

‘Then what are we waiting for, let’s do it!’ Andre rose from his chair, eager to finally bring this excavation to a conclusion.

Molier’s phone rang and was answered by Tusca, who, upon discovering the caller, immediately handed the phone to Molier.

‘Yes?’ He listened intently to what the caller had to say. ‘Very good.’ He passed the phone back to his secretary. ‘That was Conally.’ Molier’s partner had returned to the site with Andre. ‘The crate is unloaded, so we should be good to go in half an hour.’ He handed Andre a headset equipped with a mini-camera and a microphone. ‘Good luck.’ Molier took up his remote and switched on the large screen mounted inside a wall cabinet behind him to check that the camera was operational. ‘I shall be watching with great anticipation.’

Prior to our dismissal, I had again centred my focus on Molier’s light-body. I managed to perceive
his aura, which emitted a rather lovely silvery light. His chakras I could not perceive at all—they were not bogged with darkness—and nor could I see spinning vortexes of light. They were simply invisible to psychic vision. I turned my focus to Andre, who was the same, and Tusca also. Was my ability failing? From what I had learned, this could only be the case if my love for Albray was fading, and I knew in my heart that this was not the case.

I headed across camp toward my tent, wondering what the hell was going on. Ashlee had described Molier’s aura as golden, whilst his chakras were bogged with blackness—I saw no such darkness and an aura of silver. Was one of us wrong in our perception, or had the appearance of Molier’s light-body changed between Ashlee’s time and the present? If so, what could have caused such an alteration?

ORME,
I answered myself.
Molier had had access to the Fire-Stone prior to his confrontation with Ashlee. It was only more recently that the Highward Fire-Stone had come into his possession.
I recalled Molier mentioning DNA technology among the many applications for ORME’s use.
What effect might a few doses of the Star substance have had on Molier’s mutated
DNA?

I only had half an hour in which to find a treasure stone and summon Albray back to my side, and I honestly didn’t fancy my chances of achieving the goal. I felt more compelled to get on the internet and find out more regarding the healing properties of ORME. I had to know exactly what I was dealing with, if I was to fare any better against Molier than my foremothers had.

When I punched ‘ORME’ into my search engine I was surprised by the number of references it produced. The website which caught my attention was that of the discoverer of the substance. Having been done out of his patent on the exotic matter, he might have a little more to say about the potential of the substance than any corporations investigating its varied uses. Not to be dispossessed so easily, the said farmer that Molier had mentioned earlier had published a series of lectures on his discoveries. I read down his list of researches: fuel cell technology, anti-gravity, teleportation, parallel dimensions, space-time manipulation, micro-transistors and nanotechnology, all of which incited my interest. I had no time to pursue any of this, and looked instead for any information on DNA and vampires.

Naturally, I did not find any reference to how this substance might affect the DNA of a vampire. However, the claim that the Highward Fire-Stone could dismantle a short-length helix of DNA and then rebuild it led me to wonder if it could have corrected Molier’s melatonin imbalance. If it had, Molier now had immortality without any major side effects, so why was he still so eager to unlock and toy with this deadly Ark? Was the attraction the prestige of going where no modern man had gone before, or was there something else about the Ark that was a factor—what it contained, for example?

Until recently, I had always thought that there had only been one Ark, which had housed the Ten Commandments, but now that I gave this some serious consideration it really made little sense. As Ashlee had observed so early in her tale, the Commandments were very similar to a prayer in the Egyptian Book of the Dead: for instance, ‘I have not
killed’ was changed to read ‘Thou shalt not kill’, and so on. Why would these Commandments warrant the construction of a supernatural golden coffer? As I was certainly no expert on the subject, I thought I’d best expand upon my knowledge rather quickly.

Another search on the net revealed that the two-Ark theory was not as obscure or unpopular as I had imagined. There were many biblical references that could be read to imply that more than one Ark had been fashioned on this mount. One, the Ark of the Covenant, housed the Tables of Testimony—this Ark had allegedly come into the possession of St Bernard during the first crusade. These Tables of Testimony were said to have contained the sacred geometry that became the foundation of the Masonic movement, and the Order of the Children of Solomon used this geometry in creating the great Gothic cathedrals of France. It was certainly true that this order of Solomon did acquire unique knowledge after the return of the Templars from their excavation of the Temple of Solomon. So, what became of this Ark? The legend was that in order to protect the sacred knowledge from falling into the hands of the Inquisition, the Ark containing the Tables of Testimony was sent back to the Plane of Shar-on, utilising specific aspects of the geometry which had been incorporated into Chartres Cathedral at that time. This cosmic architecture was then dismantled, so that the retrieval of the Ark of the Covenant was impossible.

The second Ark was said to contain the Ring of Testimony. This ancient treasure was a ring of supernatural power, which King Solomon had passed down through many generations of his line. The ring was said to take the form of a ruby coil and
it granted the wearer knowledge of all that man had ever known and would ever know. One theory was that the ring had been given to Moses by El Shaddai—which in modern Bibles was wrongly translated to ‘God Almighty’ or ‘Yahweh’. Still, I knew El Shaddai was a Semitic term that related to the Great Mountain Lord and Mesopotamian god, Enlil. Genesis says that Melchizedek, King of Salem, was a priest of this god, and his warriors were still guarding sacred treasures in his name. ‘Interesting reading, Miss Montrose?’