“I’m sorry. I should have been there, but I did try.”
“How could you let them do that to us!?”
“I didn’t! Please listen to me,” she insisted.
The fire in her eyes convinced Zachary to hear what she had to say.
In a solemn voice, Conchita conveyed the details of that fateful day. She had run out of their family’s hut, going to her father’s place to be alone. After a good cry, she decided enough was enough. She needed to find peace for herself and her family. She lit a fire in the pit, then sprinkled an herb over the flames, breathing in the smoke, letting it bring a vision to her, hoping the spirit guides would offer their guidance. But it was her dead father’s face that appeared in the ever-shifting smoke. He said to her, “Conchita, remember there is no death. You are a shaman. You never have to worry about being strong enough by yourself. I will help you. The spirits will help you. Let the loving energy restore your spirit. Breathe deeply.”
She did as he suggested, and a moment later, Conchita heard the familiar laughter of her dead son. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel his presence.
Pahtia said, “Your son is loved by many here. You need to tend to the living. You are a shaman. Be strong.”
“I will,” she promised.
“Go now. Your family needs you. Go before it’s too late!”
Conchita jumped to her feet, rushing out of the hut. She briskly moved down the path under the low-hanging vines. The overgrown foliage brushed against her arms.
At the edge of the village, two hunters stood on the path blocking her way. When she approached them, they remained in place. This confused Conchita, who said to them, “Let me pass,” but they refused to budge.
Not wanting to waste time, she stepped off the path to go around them, but one of the hunters issued her an order, “You need to return to your father’s hut.”
“Who are you to talk to me this way?”
Their confrontation was interrupted by Eva’s voice screeching from the other side of the thick underbrush, “Mommy! Mommy!” Conchita’s eyes became wide with fear. She tried to answer her daughter, but one of the hunters tightly pressed his hand over her mouth. The other one grabbed her arms. Together, they dragged her back to her father’s hut.
“They made me a prisoner,” Conchita explained to Zachary. “I suspected what had happened to you and Eva, so I devised a plan to escape and find you. I put a wet rag over my nose and mouth, then burned an herb that makes people sleepy. I fanned the smoke with a palm leaf so it would drift over the men standing guard outside. It took many hours, but finally they fell asleep. Then I ran to the river. I could see your tracks along the bank. I knew which direction you were headed, but I also knew Takwa would come looking for me. It was a risk because if I caught up to you, it wouldn’t be long before they caught up with all of us. But I thought without my help, you would not make it.”
Conchita became solemn as she described what happened next. She had journeyed through the afternoon storm, continually slipping on the wet sloped ground. Her legs and arms were covered with cuts and bruises. Finally, the rain ceased, and the sun blazed through the clearing along the river. She had lost her family’s trail for a small stretch, but picked it up again in the soggy soil, closing in on the outcast pair, coming to where their fresh footprints led from a raised bank down to the sandy shore. Here, a disturbing sight presented itself. There were caiman tracks where the human impressions ended. Her heart pounded. She was afraid she was looking at the scene where her loved ones had been attacked, but oddly, there were no signs of a struggle.
“You had simply vanished. I searched along the river until Takwa and his men found me, and forced me to return to the village. They said they would kill you if I did not go with them. I believed them.
“I could not forgive Takwa or the others for what they did to you, and me, so I moved into my father’s hut, away from them—” Her explanation was cut short.
Bushes rustled. Hunters, whose bodies were painted with red-and-black lines, stormed down the path toward Conchita and Zachary. The tribesmen stopped a short distance away from the pair, glaring menacingly at the pale-skinned intruder.
Takwa stood at the forefront. His eyes were vengeful as he stepped forward, gripping a spear. He sneered, “Your bruja can’t save you now.”
Zachary suddenly understood how men could kill each other in battle. He despised this arrogant hunter, who, because of his lust and possessiveness for Conchita, had risked his family’s lives. He charged at his adversary, wanting to break his neck, and was mid-stride to doing so when Takwa thrust a spear into his heart. Zachary clutched the weapon near his wound, sinking to his knees.
Conchita screamed, rushing to his side.
Everything seemed lost until Zachary transformed himself into a semi-physical state, which healed the wound. The spear fell through his intangible body, clanking on the ground.
Conchita was confused, but, at the same time, in awe of her husband’s supernatural abilities.
Terrified of Zachary’s powers, all the hunters ran away, except for Takwa, who smiled eerily at him, proclaiming, “I knew Eva was a bruja, and now I know you are, too.” He spoke directly to Conchita, “Is this what you want? An evil spirit as a husband?”
Takwa’s taunting fueled Zachary’s anger. The Earth Sentinel cast his hands, emitting an energy surge that sent the hunter spiraling through the air, smashing his back against a palm tree. Takwa was momentarily stunned, but then he sprung to his feet, charging at Zachary who, in return, wrapped his apparitional hands around his rival’s neck, strangling the life out of him. The hunter was no match for the strength that Zachary possessed while in this supernatural state. Takwa punched at the young man’s shadowy form without any impact, except to use up his own precious oxygen and strength, his face turning purple.
The sight of her compassionate husband killing someone was more than Conchita could bear. “No, Zachary! Do not be like him!”
He continued squeezing Takwa’s neck.
“Zachary!”
He looked at her.
Her eyes pleaded with him.
He threw Takwa to the ground. The hunter lay there gasping for air.
Zachary glided back to Conchita, holding out his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
She reached for him, spanning the gap between them.
Phump.
With their fingers only inches apart, Conchita felt a sting in her neck and faltered. Takwa had shot her with a poisonous dart from where he lay. The young woman’s muscles became paralyzed. Knowing she only had a brief moment to live, Conchita looked at her husband, wanting his face to be the last thing she saw from this life, then she collapsed, but Zachary caught her in his arms, converting her body into a semi-physical state—the same as his. The poisonous dart dropped from her vaporous neck, landing in the dirt, its effects no longer a concern, her body renewed from the metamorphosis.
Zachary encouraged Conchita to stand. “You’re okay.”
Face to face, they gazed into each other’s eyes. Conchita didn’t understand her transformation, or his for that matter, but she knew this wasn’t the time to discuss it. For now, it was enough to know they were alive.
After nearly losing her, Zachary could no longer hide his feelings. He loved her. He would always love her. He leaned in to kiss Conchita. She returned his embrace, but their gossamer bodies subdued the sensation. Wanting to fully feel her, Zachary made both of them become flesh and blood. After a lingering kiss, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, nuzzling his face in her silken black hair.
The sight of the two lovers entwined was more than Takwa could bear. He jumped to his feet, screeching a battle call, intending to murder one or both of them. Startled, the pair turned their heads. Zachary saw his enemy lunged for them, but as Takwa soared, Zachary and Conchita disappeared. The tribesman fell through the empty space, tumbling across the ground.
Body and ego bruised, Takwa sat up, seething an
d breathing heavily. But not for long. A black jaguar leaped down from an overhead branch, pouncing on him. The snarling predator struck quickly, biting the back of his neck, paralyzing the man who remained conscious as the big cat sunk its canine teeth into his skull, dragging him into the secluded underbrush.
CERN
IN THE FOOTHILLS of the Swiss Alps, near Geneva, a silver hovercraft slipped out of the clouds, descending into a valley shrouded with mist, lowering onto a landing pad. The hatch door lifted and a set of stairs lowered. Abaddon climbed out, his face determined as he stomped past the two soldiers who waited for him with their heads bowed and fists held over their hearts.
The soldiers followed their ruler across the landing. The high winds fluttered their black robes and ruffled their wings. Abaddon led them to a barely discernible metal door in the mountainside. He stepped inside, his heavy footsteps clanging on the steel catwalk that spanned the deep pit below.
Abaddon reached the door at the other end, flinging it open, ducking his head under the doorframe as he entered a modern headquarters. Carpet ran the length of the hallway. Affixed to the wall was a sign crafted out of black glass and embellished with the gold-metal letters “C.E.R.N.”. The acronym stood for the French Conseil Européen pour la Recherche Nucléaire or in English: the European Council for Nuclear Research. This was the birthplace of the World Wide Web as well as the home of the Hadron Collider—the world’s largest particle smasher.
The main hallway led past numerous offices with glass fronts where administrators were busy working on their computers. A few of them glanced up, but the sight of the fallen angels stomping past their windows prompted them to quickly resume their work, pretending they had seen nothing unusual.
Abaddon stormed to the elevators where he jabbed the “down” button. He pushed his way inside before the doors had a chance to fully open, pressing the button marked “C”. The car sped down, passing the data-processing facilities and laboratories. The fallen angels were riding in one of the fastest elevators in the world, yet it took nearly a minute to complete the descent.
The doors opened to reveal a half-dozen men and women wearing white lab coats and hard helmets, all standing with their heads bowed. Abaddon and his soldiers stepped into the wide corridor.
The lead physicist nervously said, “We are pleased to receive you, my Lord God.”
Ignoring the pleasantries, Abaddon tersely replied, “Take me there, now.”
The man’s throat tightened even more. “Yes, my lord.” He and the other physicists escorted Abaddon and his soldiers to the two electric vehicles parked alongside the wall. A trailer was hitched to one of them and held an oversized high-back chair upholstered in black velvet.
Abaddon stepped over the side rail and sat in the chair. “Let’s go!”
The physicists quickly took their seats.
The vehicles hummed down the half-mile-long corridor while the soldiers walked behind them, their long legs easily keeping pace. Despite the efficiency, Abaddon impatiently seethed. He just wanted to be there, now.
When they reached the office at the end of the corridor, the lead physicist jumped out of the driver’s seat, rushing to open the door for Abaddon.
Inside was a large observation room, which offered a view of a thirty-foot-high darkened tunnel. Abaddon sat on the throne-like chair in the center of the room. The physicists took their seats at the control panel under the observation window. The foot soldiers stationed themselves near the door.
Abaddon tersely asked, “Is the black cube in place?”
The lead physicist answered, “Yes, my lord.”
“Then let us begin.”
“Just a word of caution, my lord. The earth’s vibrations have been steadily rising. We’re not sure why. This could be—”
“Start it!” Abaddon was tired of these fools.
“Yes, sir. I mean, Lord.”
The physicists pushed buttons and double-checked gauges on the control panel. One by one, the indicator lights switched from red to green.
The lead physicist confirmed with his colleagues, “Ready?” They all nodded. “Engage.”
The events were set in motion.
The enormous twelve-sided tunnel came to life. Lights flickered on to reveal the metal plates, wires, tubing and superconducting magnets contained within the ultrahigh vacuum, cooled by liquid helium to -271.3º Celsius.
The lead physicist pushed another button. His action released a high-energy particle beam from a containment compartment, which passed through a transparent black cube before shooting into the first of three tunnels. There, the particles built up speed before rushing into the second larger tunnel, continuing to gain velocity until they were ready for the third and final step. The accelerated particles, hurtling at close to the speed of light, were unleashed into a 27-kilometers circular tunnel that straddled the borders of Switzerland and France. Inside this tunnel were two tubes. The particles whizzed through each in opposite directions, and, at intersecting points, a portion of the particles collided. But these particle collisions were more powerful than they had ever been in the past. Earth’s rising vibrations were affecting the process.
The observation room shook. Dust fell from the ceiling tiles.
The lead physicist turned to Abaddon, stating, “My lord, the explosions are too much for the tunnel to handle. We need to shut it down.”
Abaddon glared wordlessly at him, his gray eyes penetrating the man’s soul. Afraid, the lead physicist turned away, but his words of caution held true. The escalating particle blasts activated the Rhône-Simplon fault line, causing the earth’s tectonic plates to thunder as they shifted.
One of the physicist shouted, “It’s an earthquake!”
The CERN tunnel developed cracks, but kept working. Sub-zero air hissed through the crevices. The exploding particles began creating dark matter upon impact—the single-most powerful and dangerous substance known to man. The amount of dark matter grew exponentially.
Time distorted.
The mountain seemed to disappear, and, in its wake, a newly formed black hole emerged. Every speck of light was sucked out from the far end of the tunnel.
The window in the observation room threatened to buckle. The physicists stared at the black hole, not knowing what to do or expect.
Pandora’s Box had been opened.
The black hole’s presence provided a passageway from another dimension. From out of its great void, an ominous cloud rushed toward the observation room, glowing red with demons.
The physicists screamed, tipping over their chairs, falling over each other, as they tried to flee.
Abaddon sat in his chair with an eerie smile pasted on his face.
The ominous cloud swarmed closer, shrieking and tearing at the fabric of reality. The legion of demons rushed into the room, gnashing their teeth, their howls vibrating the walls. In unison, the demons sinisterly asked the ruler, “May we?”
Abaddon nodded.
The demons entered the physicists’ bodies, possessing the men and women whose screams of terror suddenly ceased, their eyes becoming catatonic.
Demented and crazed, a woman threw herself against the wall.
Another physicist convulsed on the floor, braying maniacally.
One man examined his lab coat sleeve, then pushed it up to reveal his bare arm. He bit into his own flesh, taking out a chunk. He chewed. Blood dribbled down his chin as he creepily commented, “Delicious.”
Abaddon ignored the chaos around him, his eyes fixated on the black hole. Waiting.
Rising Vibrations
THE GALACTIC COUNCIL and the Earth Sentinels anxiously stared at the holographic number 251 slowly spinning in the center of the sanctuary, indicating the current Hertz reading of the earth’s vibrations.
The number rose to 252.
The rising vibrations were affecting inner earth as well, causing the crystal walls to emit high-pitched ringing sounds.
Synege clasped her hands in front of
herself. Her large green eyes watched the number change to 253.
Zachary wrapped his arm around Conchita as they waited nervously.
254.
Cecile was jittery with anticipation. Tom stood beside her, hoping this time their efforts would go as planned.
255.
Haruto prayed, “Sweet Devas, please let this benefit mankind.”
256.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ELIZABETH M. HERRERA is a shamanic healer and author of life-changing books. Her stories encourage people to stretch outside their comfort zones and reexamine their own beliefs.
She inherited her rebellious spirit from her father who was raised by his grandparents. His grandfather was a full-blooded Apache who smuggled sugar and flour from Mexico into Texas, exchanged gunfire with Texas Rangers, and crossed paths with Pancho Villa.
Elizabeth’s other books include: Shaman Stone Soup (Memoir, Spirituality), Earth Sentinels: The Storm Creators (Fantasy, Contemporary), Of Stars and Clay (Fantasy, Contemporary), and Dreams of Heaven (Spirituality, Fiction).
Website: ElizabethMHerrera.com
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BOOK DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
Below are questions for book II, Of Stars and Clay, to help get the conversation started at your book club or group. General questions are provided at the end.
CHAPTER 1 — Amazon Jungle
• The author asks the reader to believe that a virus can be spread through the use of planes. Do you think it’s possible to spread a virus around the globe in one day?
• How does the fishing episode convey the relationships between Zachary and Takwa (the rival hunter), his father-in-law, Pahtia, and the tribe?
CHAPTER 2 — Curator’s House
Earth Sentinels Collection Page 40