“Did he ever meet him?”
“Crowley died in 1947. Sixty years ago.”
“What about his mother?”
“Beautiful woman. She wore the family jewels well, he used to say. They were never close.”
“Poor little rich boy.”
Abernathy yanked his head around at Michael’s tone. “I’ve often wondered what turned him. I’m not sure it was his parents, although he certainly had a lonely childhood on that huge country manor. No brothers or sisters, father off on business, mother in London…no, Cagliostro damned himself.”
Michael sat forward. “How do you mean?”
Now they had come to it. “Cagliostro took a trip to San Francisco. He had to experience the summer of love for himself. Afterwards, he and Waldman traveled to South America. He came home with some ayahuasca, said it put acid to shame.”
“Doctor Abernathy!” Michael sounded scandalized.
Abernathy smiled at Michael’s tone. “We took the drug and waited for it to come on, then cast a circle. Cagliostro said he was going to conjure up some demon he read about, one that was bound long ago. I didn’t take him very seriously. I didn’t believe in demons, not in the way people think of them nowadays.”
“Neither do I,” Michael said.
“Yes, well.” Abernathy paused. “Let’s just say I was surprised.”
* * * *
He surfaced from restful sleep to another memory.
The drug rushed through his system, opening his vision to what hung in the air around him. Faces pushed up against the circle they just cast. Again, he dipped the athame into the chalice filled with sheep’s blood and drew another backwards pentagram in the east. “I conjure you, Semiazas, chief of the fallen angels. Appear before us.” He heard Abernathy shift his feet and briefly wondered if he would hold up the north, but he didn’t have time to worry. More faces pushed against the sphere, demanding entrance. Cagliostro sent a stream of energy to strengthen the circle behind him then called again, “Semiazas. Appear.”
A great roaring, then something flung him to the ground. He struggled to get up, pushed his hair out of his eyes, and saw hooves standing in fire. The smell overwhelmed him. Was it burnt tires? He coughed, trying to clear his lungs. His eyes streamed. Cagliostro felt the circle sag and was dimly aware of running feet. “No,” he croaked, and sent another blast of energy into the now empty north. The ritual space held.
Thank God, he thought.
“You invoke God now?” the being asked, and spat at Cagliostro. The spittle smoldered, burning into the wood parquet floor, then turned into a snake that slithered back to the demon, leaving a trail of smoke.
Cagliostro staggered to his feet. “Semiazas?” He shook his head against the question in his voice. Cornelius said never to show weakness.
“He sent me because I know you. I know what you are.”
The voice caressed him, leaving behind a wave of revulsion. He took a shaking breath. If the teaching was correct, that the true name of the being would control it, then he was in trouble. “How do you know me?”
“We started it, you and I.”
“Started what?” Damn, Cornelius said never to ask, always to command.
The demon lifted up his sharp, red face and wailed.
Cagliostro covered his ears, blind terror replacing thought for a full minute, then he realized the thing was laughing.
“How could you forget, Alexander?”
His mind raced. He saw a list, he had to memorize it. Finally it came. “Thamuz,” he said. “The Inquisition.”
The demon laughed again and somehow he withstood the sound. “What do you want?” it asked. The question somehow contained the suggestion that he was an insect in the great hierarchy of beings, not worthy of any boon…and yet, the being appeared.
He forced himself to look into Thamuz’s face. It roiled like a furnace. Images floated to the top—men pleading, burning and stretched on racks, screaming as their entrails were torn from their body. Cagliostro looked into the demon’s eyes and his bowels turned to water. He panted for a minute, then said, “I bind you—”
“You bind me? What comic book have you been reading?”
“—to serve me—”
“You inconsequential—”
A blast of fire burned Cagliostro’s eyelashes. “—in this life,” he gasped out.
There was a blast of rage. Cagliostro came back to consciousness and found himself laying flat on the floor. Did it leave? He sighed in relief, but then he heard something ponderous shift its weight.
“Look at me when I talk to you.”
The voice alone picked him up off the floor. He looked again into those fathomless eyes.
“My master bids me remind you of your task. When the time comes, I will aid you, but only because He commands it.” There was a burst of flames and the sound of gale force winds, and Thamuz was gone.
“No!” Cagliostro screamed as if his lungs were raw. Footsteps sounded from the hall. The door opened. “No.” He held his hands in front of his face. He didn’t want to see it again. Someone grabbed his arm and he felt a sharp prick. Another drug, cool in his veins, seeped through his system, sending him back into dreamless sleep.
The morning nurse found him sitting in bed, lucid and self-contained, as dangerous as a King cobra. She stopped short, then quickly gathered her wits. “Sir, how are you feeling?”
“How many days?” he asked.
What he really wondered was how many days, how many lifetimes, he wasted serving the power-hungry world elite, using his talents to conduct rituals to control the masses and influence world events, to find and activate ancient technology. He thought this was his own desire as well, but now the time had come to turn the tables and use the shadow government for his own ends. Now, Cagliostro knew what he truly wanted.
Chapter Thirteen
Govannan sat in an undignified heap holding his thigh, trying not to groan. The sharp, stabbing pain gradually receded, and he nodded to Herasto, one of the pod members, to help him to his feet. Govannan took a tentative step. Pain stabbed deep into his thigh. He stood, a thin line of sweat on his lip. The Pleiadian ambassador, still fastening her deep rose jumpsuit, ran over to him. Her piercing blue eyes were filled with concern. “Are you injured?”
He nodded. “Something brushed against me. It was only a light touch, but it seems to have torn a muscle. What did you see?”
She looked him up and down then said something in a low voice.
Govannan leaned closer. “Excuse me?”
She shook her head. “Someone out of his proper time.”
Govannan stepped toward her in alarm and his leg buckled. Herasto grabbed him before he fell. Govannan spoke through tight lips, “Someone else was in there with you?”
She nodded.
“How could that be? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” He looked around at his pod of workers who stood in a tight knot, some whispering, others listening intently to the conversation.
“It happens from time to time.”
The comment reminded Govannan of the lengthy life spans of the Pleiadians, as she probably meant it to. “What should we do? I never had a slip up like this. We could have endangered your life.”
She waved a hand in dismissal. “I was in no danger.”
“If it would not be too much of an imposition,” his head was clearing enough to remember that one had to treat the Pleiadian matriarchy with utmost respect, “I would appreciate hearing about any other times you’ve experienced this.”
She studied him for a moment, her head cocked to one side.
“I would learn from you.” He bowed his head slightly.
“The time to talk is approaching.” She looked around the group.
One of the pod members steppe
d forward. “I will escort you.”
The ambassador nodded and followed the pod member out of the chamber.
Govannan looked around at the group. “Let’s get this crystal settled, then we’ll meet.” Ianara, a leader of one of the pod, stepped forward, a frown on her face. “What?” he snapped.
She ignored his tone. “You need to go to the healers.”
“First we need to figure out what happened.”
“Once you’ve seen the healer.”
Govannan took a breath to object, and she raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, all right.” He tried to take another step. Pain shot up his leg into his hip. He bit his lip to swallow an involuntary gasp. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said in a subdued voice. He looked around at the group, then back to Ianara. “Will you lead the debriefing?”
She nodded.
“Come report to me in the healer’s temple as soon as you can.”
“Of course.” She turned to the pod. “Daphyll, go get a transport. Herasto, help him outside. Accompany him to the temple and report back when you know anything.”
Govannan frowned. The group was usually one mind for sometime after a transport, but now it seemed scattered like scraps of paper in the wind. His next step wrenched his mind back to his injury. Leaning heavily on Herasto, he waited by the door for the transport. Once aboard, the vehicle lifted quickly and they flew toward the temple.
Situated near a long, quiet strip of beach, the healing temple sat on two acres dotted with gardens, streams, and a lake populated by migrating ducks and geese and the temple’s own resident flock of swans. The stone and selenite building rested in the middle. From above, its blue dome suggested another lake.
Daphyll brought the vehicle down close to the main entrance. She got out and swung around. “I’ll go get someone.” Two people already spotted their approach and were running from the building with a floating stretcher between them. “It’s not life threatening,” Daphyll called, and the group slowed. She explained the accident as they walked back to the transport.
Govannan pasted an apologetic smile on his face. The healers each had two stars attached to the blue robes of their guild, indicating their rank as apprentices. “I’m sorry to trouble you,” he said.
“Is it your leg?” one asked.
“Yes, the left one.” Govannan shifted as the healer reached out and began to probe his thigh with a practiced touch. He tried not to grunt when she reached the injured spot.
“Uh-hum,” she would say with each poke. “Uh-hum. How did this happen?”
Govannan told the story again. The looks on the healers’ faces grew more incredulous as he spoke. “Excuse me, sir, but we weren’t trained for such an accident.”
“Neither was I, but the ambassador assures me the event is not unprecedented.”
The group lifted Govannan onto the stretcher, ignoring his protests that he was capable of walking, and whisked him off to one of the treatment areas. Once they arrived, one apprentice went for a more advanced healer and the other covered him with a blanket. “Go back to the meeting,” Govannan said to his two pod members. After a few objections, they left, and he lay back and examined the room. It had been some time since he was a patient. He rested in a private alcove awash with soft light. In one corner, water trickled down a sheet of limestone and dropped into an alabaster basin lit from within, producing a sound that soothed him.
The swish of a robe made him turn his head. Megan’s mother stood there looking at him. “Pleione.” He started to sit up. “Surely you’re too busy to waste your time on a simple muscle strain.”
“How could I miss the opportunity to visit with you?” she said lightly, but Govannan did not miss the flash of concern on her face before she put on her professional mask.
“Heck of an accident,” he commented.
“You say the Pleiadian ambassador has experienced such an intrusion before?”
“That’s what she said, and you don’t question that royal family.”
They both laughed.
“Just relax now.” Her hands spread warmth with their touch, and he closed his eyes. Even when she probed his injury, deeper than her apprentices did, there was no pain, only comfort. She brought a few stones from a cabinet he didn’t notice before and arranged them on his body. She set a large crystal bowl between his legs next to the injury and began to run the wooden mallet around the rim. The bowl sat silent for a moment, then hummed, giving off a deep, aching tone. The sound intensified, and it set off the throb in his leg again. Pleione added her voice, and just as the pain became too much to bear, his leg seemed to lose its solidity for a moment and dissolve into nothing but vibration. He gripped the table. Strands of energy separated and lifted off. Pleione allowed the bowl to quiet, then passed her hands over him as if she were dozing. “Better?”
Coolness and relief replaced the throbbing pain. “Much.” He started to get up, but she pushed him back with one gentle hand.
“Not yet. There’s still some residue. I want you to rest here, and we’ll put you in with the dolphins in a bit.”
“Surely that isn’t necessary. I feel almost normal.”
“I don’t question your professional opinions, do I, Govannan?”
“The pod is meeting. I need—”
“You need to be treated by the dolphins.” It sounded like she was chiding a fractious child.
He heaved a sigh. “If you insist.”
Her laugh sounded like silver bells. “I do. I’ll just go check the schedule. Close your eyes and sleep.”
Once she left the room, Govannan hoisted himself up on his elbow and looked around the room. He considered sending for a messenger to find out what the pod members reported about their mishap, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up. Lethargy stole through his body, and soon he drifted off.
The next thing he heard was Pleione’s quiet voice. “Good nap?”
He rubbed his eyes and stretched. “Time for my swim?”
“Come along now. I think you can walk to the beach. We’ll go slowly.”
His eyes widened. “As much as I appreciate it, I don’t feel I can claim the sole attention of the mistress of the Healers Guild for so long.”
“Arguing again?” Her smile belied her stern tone of voice.
Obediently, Govannan slid off the table and tested his leg. It felt wobbly, but it supported his weight adequately despite the distinct limp. After a step or two, he got used to the sensation. “The beach?”
“Yes. Our resident group of dolphins is busy all afternoon. We’ll go to the shore and see who volunteers.”
“I get to see you call the dolphins?” He realized that he must sound like a child anticipating a carnival, but he didn’t care.
“I’ll even teach you how.” Her smile was indulgent. Once outside, they walked through a series of colorful gardens, Pleione matching the pace he set. After a while, she asked, “How is Megan?”
Govannan took to this subject with relish, relieved to take the focus away from himself. “Excellent. She has the sensitivity to energy of her mother, but she needs to learn to hold her own frequency in a group.”
Pleione nodded. “I remember having that trouble myself.”
“We sent her to Avalon for Beltane. She’ll participate in seasonal ceremonies at various temples until it becomes second nature.”
“How long will that take?”
Govannan shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Perhaps a few months, or it could be up to a year or two.”
The yearning must have come through in his voice, because Pleione looked at him closely. He blushed then shook his head, annoyed with himself. The injury and treatment shook his usual reserve. She stopped and put a hand on his shoulder, turning him toward her. “What is this I see?”
He ducked his head. �
�She’s a promising apprentice.”
The silver tinkle of her laugh flew up like a small bird. “Govannan, you’ve fallen in love with my daughter.”
He looked up and found a copy of Megan’s blue eyes regarding him from this woman’s face, but these eyes had dark smudges beneath them and fine lines at the corners. “You’re exhausted,” he blurted.
She turned away from him and walked down a path between jutting sea grasses toward the beach. He followed close behind. “I’m just tired. We’ve been busy,” she said.
“You’re more than tired.” Now it was his turn to be firm.
Pleione looked at him in surprise. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve slept in a few days.” They reached the shore and she stopped, kicking her sandals off and digging her toes into the fine white sand. “It’s these new illnesses. I’m not sure how to treat them all. The viruses are fairly simple; we just need to stimulate the immune system and use certain sounds and perhaps herbs if the organism is resistant. The other ailments, however…” She shook her head and gazed out to sea. “It’s like people are getting forgetful…” She struggled for words. “…like parts of their awareness are shutting down. We stimulate them with the usual treatments, but some don’t regain full consciousness. Others have to keep coming back.”
Govannan nodded, excited by this validation. “I know what you mean.”
“How could you?”
“When the New Knowledge Guild called us all to the conference—”
“What did you think of their proposal?”
He frowned. “Not promising. When all the chaos broke out after Surid made his presentation, I tried to rebalance the group with my crystal.” He paused, wondering for the first time if that was a breach of courtesy. After all, one never treated another without their permission. That was his job though, he told himself, to help maintain balance.
“And?” Pleione’s voice brought him back.
Beneath the Hallowed Hill Page 17