“Start at the base of your spine and focus on Muladhara, the red vortex of the first chakra, which governs spiritual security,” he intoned. “Visualize a silver thread and mentally pass it through the chakra and connect it to the chakra’s twin in your spirit body. Now move up the spine, feel it tingle as you access Svadhisthana, the orange sacral chakra. Unlock the enthusiasm it governs as you pass another silver thread through it to from a link with its spiritual twin. Now travel to your solar plexus and in your mind’s eye pass a thread through Manipura, the yellow chakra. As you connect with its spirit twin, feed off the growth it governs. Now travel up to the heart to Anahata, the green chakra…”
As Delaney spoke, Fox could see the cult members swaying as one, mentally trying to leave their physical bodies and connect with something bigger than themselves. He bet that if their brains were scanned now their parietal lobes would show little or no activity. Fasting, which made you light-headed, undoubtedly helped the effect and he wondered if there was also something in the wine they had drunk. Whatever it was, it had worked because, aside from Sorcha and himself, not one person had their eyes open or fidgeted in their seats.
“…Pass a silver thread through Vishuddha, the blue throat chakra, and connect with its spiritual twin,” Delaney continued. “Now we come to the brow of the head, to Ajna, the sixth chakra. This is the Indigo chakra, the third eye. Visualize it as a lens through which you can see your spirit self in its entirety, free of all physical constraints. Pass a thread through the chakra, make the link with its spiritual twin and prepare yourself to travel beyond indigo.
“Gather up all the threads connecting the six chakras and braid them into a cord. Now follow this cord through the seventh chakra, Sahasrara, the violet chakra in the crown of your head. This cord will lead you out of your physical body to your spirit self and be your link back. Let all other connections slip away. Leave your physical body behind and trust in this one silver cord. On this night of Esbat, when the moon is full and the veil between this world and the spirit realm is thinnest, be at one with you mind, and the universe. Free yourself to wander the astral plane and access the infinite.”
Apart from Delaney’s hypnotic voice, Fox could hear no other sound. He looked up at the glass panels in the roof. The full moon appeared like a vast pearlescent disc, still rising in the clear night sky. He turned to Sorcha who was glancing nervously at Kaidan, sitting with his head down and eyes closed. If he hadn’t been tied to the table Fox felt they could have walked out unnoticed by everyone, except Delaney. Fox sensed that the Seer, despite his theatrics, was very awake and aware.
Suddenly, Delaney clapped his hands and the trance was broken. His people stirred as if from deep sleep. Then the hall filled with excited chattering and a buzz of anticipation. “Let us break our fast and satisfy the hunger of our physical bodies.” Delaney donned his robe and pointed to the laden tables around the hall. Everyone rushed to them and pounced on the food.
Under the unblinking gaze of the new moon, the next two hours passed in a blur of bacchanalian excess. At times, as the Indigo Family gorged themselves on food and drink, their feasting sounded more like a raging battle than a banquet. Delaney, however, ate little and drank only water from his goblet. When the platters had been stripped of food and the flasks emptied of wine, the sated cult members turned again to their Seer as he rose to address them. “In the past, most Pathfinders have been sub-indigos but tonight we are fortunate.” He turned to Fox. “This Esbat is rare. Not only do we have an indigo to light our path to the other side…” Two Watchers freed Fox from the table, though his hands were still bound together, and forced him to his feet. “But we also have a violet — a pure violet — who will do so much more for our kind.” The Wives freed Sorcha from the table and made her stand. Everyone began cheering.
“Just as Sorcha lost her memory and forgot her identity, so most of us in the Indigo Family had forgotten ours. We had forgotten that we are descended from fallen angels, with divine blood flowing in our veins. Only by restoring this genetic memory, and accepting we’re more than human, can we reclaim our lost identity and realize our full potential. Only then can we shake off our earthly shackles and truly regain our connection with the spirit world. To reclaim our inheritance and restore our bloodline to its original purity will require sacrifice. From us all.”
Delaney glanced at Kaidan, then at Sorcha. “Tonight, Sorcha will make this sacrifice and lead us down the path to purity.” The Wives led her to the top tier of the dais and stood her beneath the arch of violets topped with lilies. In her white robe, she resembled an expectant bride. “Tonight, two violets will unite to try and create the purest aura of all: the halo of divine white.” Sorcha’s face had paled to the color of her robe. She looked pleadingly at Kaidan, and Fox saw his shake his head as if to reassure her. “But one sacrifice isn’t enough,” said Delaney. “For this to happen, one other sacrifice is necessary.” Delaney glanced at his son and Fox saw anger flash in Kaidan’s eyes.
Why?
Fox knew Kaidan didn’t want to go ahead with the incest but why the sudden anger? Had he secured an agreement from Delaney not to do it, only to have his father renege at the last minute? Like everyone else, Fox could only watch, mesmerized, wondering how Kaidan would respond. Then something happened that not only shocked Fox, but also visibly surprised Kaidan. Regan Delaney turned, stepped up onto the next tier and in a perverse parody of a marriage ceremony stood beside his daughter under the arch of violets. “Tonight,” he said, “to guarantee the purity of the bloodline for future generations, I too will make the sacrifice.”
Chapter 62
Sorcha was still numb with shock and disbelief as the Wives, Kaidan and the Watchers dragged her and Fox out of the Great Hall toward the tower. When she met Fox’s eye she could see he was equally surprised. This neither of them had expected.
Despite it being almost midnight the path to the tower was brightly lit, both from the torches along the way and from the full moon’s silver light. She scanned the faces lining the path, searching for help, hoping to see shock, horror or compassion, but all she saw was excitement and wonder. They wanted this. They evidently found nothing abhorrent in the Seer sleeping with his daughter. As father to the Indigo Family, he was father to them all and if he thought it best to make this sacrifice for them, then they should be grateful for his humility and selflessness.
As they entered the tower, Delaney turned back to the Indigo Family. “It’s almost the witching hour,” he told them. “Do not waste this fertile time.” Then he closed the door on the restless crowd. As he led them up the stairs the Seer made no allowance for Maria, who was close to giving birth and clutched her belly in discomfort. After the first few steps, Fox slipped and fell. Sorcha winced as she watched him roll down the stairs, feeling every knock on her own body. Luckily his hands had been bound in front of him so he could use them to protect his face, but it had clearly hurt. He made no sound but lay curled in the fetal position, his head in his hands, rocking. She tried to go to him but the Wives held her back. When Kaidan pulled him to his feet, however, Fox didn’t look hurt and there was a renewed fire in his eyes.
The chock of her father’s declaration must have breached the blockage in her memory because as she continued up the stairs she remembered her naïve thrill at being summoned to the tower for the first time, on the day she had fled the settlement. She recalled the Seer leading her up the stairs, watching her closely, studying her reaction to the death echoes, his excitement increasing as hers turned to horror. On the indigo level he had led her into the room where her mother had died — not from illness as her father had told her, but by his hand.
She recalled his words as clearly as if he was uttering them now: “Your mother was an exceptional woman, Sorcha, and I owe her a great deal, but she refused to understand what I was trying to achieve in this tower. She threatened to go to the authorities unless I stopped doing what I was doing, and, of course, I couldn’t allow that. I co
uldn’t let anyone threaten the Great Work, not even Aurora. I’m showing you this, Sorcha, because I want you to understand what’s expected of you. In the past I’ve asked nothing of you but now I need you to take your place alongside Kaidan and contribute to the Great Work.”
Kaidan had appeared then and she remembered her father holding her down and ordering her half-brother to ‘Do it. Do it, quickly.’ The memories surfaced faster now, like scenes from a film: feeling Kaidan lying on her, heaving and panting; herself kicking and screaming as she fought against her father’s grip; Kaidan suddenly pulling back; their father turning on him and beating him; fleeing from the tower, pursued by Kaidan; running into Eve who helped her escape.
Now as she retraced her steps up the tower she wished she had listened to Fox. In the top chamber, the amethyst plinth had been made up into a bed of immaculate white linen. A ring of candles surrounded the glowing amethyst symbol on the floor. Smoke curled in the soft violet light and the smell of incense hung in the air. She noticed silk nooses like the one binding her wrists attached to each corner of the plinth and her anxiety surged. As if on hot coals she ran across the glowing amethyst until she was on the plain stone, desperate to distance herself from the death echoes and that bed. Fox followed and stood beside her, shoulder to shoulder. The Seer gestured to Zara to remove their gags. As soon as Sorcha could speak, she turned to her father: “You can’t do this.”
Delaney turned to the Wives and the Watchers. “Go down to the bottom and wait,” he told them. “I’ll call you when we’re ready.” When they had gone he turned back to her. “I don’t want to do this, Sorcha. But it’s the only way to take the Great Work to the next stage.” He spoke so sincerely that for a second she allowed herself to think he had misgivings and genuinely didn’t want to do it.
“I’m your daughter,” she said. Now her memory was returning she recognized Delaney as her father, rather than a stranger, making the prospect of incest even more repugnant.”
“It’s wrong. You cannot do this.”
“How can purifying a bloodline be wrong?” Delaney said, picking up the family Bible from the white table and opening it to the family tree. “We Delaneys did it in the past and have successfully kept the mothú in our bloodline for centuries.”
Fox shook his head. “That doesn’t make it right. Even if you ignore the morality of it, this will do the opposite of what you’re trying to achieve. This will weaken your bloodline. This makes no sense.”
Delaney frowned. “If you bred thoroughbred horses you’d understand.”
“I do understand,” said Fox. “Inbreeding has made thoroughbreds brilliant at one thing: running fast. But they’re riddled with other problems directly linked to their inbreeding. Many have small hearts or are prone to breaking bones and bleeding lungs. This is insane.”
“Did you know about this, Kaidan?” Sorcha said, vainly willing her tormentor to become a protector. “Do you agree with this?”
Kaidan wouldn’t meet her eye but turned to the Seer. “When did you decide to do this? Today? Or have you planned it for some time?”
A cruel smile curled Delaney’s lips. “Don’t question me, Kaidan. You should feel grateful. You didn’t have the courage or the commitment to do this so I’m having to. You said you’d support me in anything I decided to do, so long as I released you from doing this. Remember?” Kaidan nodded, subdued. “Then let me decide what’s best for the Great Work.”
“But why?” Sorcha cried. “I don’t understand. What good can this do?”
Delaney sighed and smiled patiently at her. “On the day you left I was glad Kaidan failed because I finally realized how important you were. With you, I could complete the final part of the Great Work, which has many stages. The first was simply to nurture indigos and appreciate our special heritage. The second was to study the souls of the dead, which is why I built this tower. I can’t connect like you do, Sorcha, because your mothú has evolved more than mine. You merge with the souls and feel what they’re feeling — but I still sense them. The third was to practice projecting my astral self from my physical body. In the tower, when I have sex and reach orgasm my spirit leaves my body and dances with the souls trapped in here. For a few fleeting moments, I throw off my earthly bonds and become pure spirit. I become an angel again, a god.”
‘Bullshit,” said Fox. “You might feel like that’s what’s happening, and you might want it to happen, but it’s not. Don’t you understand? It’s just your synaesthesia. You aren’t really leaving your body, you just feel like you are. It’s a neurological trick of the mind. You aren’t communing with spirits or ghosts because there are no ghosts, only echoes. This tower is nothing more than a jukebox of memories which, because of your synaesthesia, only you, Sorcha and Kaidan can play. Sorcha feels the echoes more than you because she has empathy/ There’s only one reason you can’t feel the death echoes. You have no empathy. You’re a psychopath.”
The muscles clenched in Delaney’s jaw. “Dr. Fox, you know nothing about this. You’ve never experienced what I’ve experienced. Before you met Sorcha you didn’t even know what a death echo was, so please don’t presume to lecture me on what is and isn’t real. You’ll find out soon enough whether this tower contains the souls of the dying or just their memories — when I add you to my jukebox.” He spat out the last word and turned back to Sorcha. “Sorcha, these first three stages are but building blocks for the fourth, which is the ultimate aim of the Great Work. And for this I need you.”
“What is the fourth stage?” she asked, feeling sick. She glanced at Kaidan and Fox and could see both were listening intently.
“The fourth stage is to reclaim our divine legacy as descendants of the Grigori and the Nephilim, and become gods again. The ultimate aim of the Great Work is to transcend death and become immortal.”
“How?”
“By reattaching the ageless astral body, the soul, to a new physical vessel.”
As she looked into her father’s eyes she could see that he totally and utterly believed in what he was saying. “How?” she said again.
“The transmigration of souls works best with unborn babies and babies less than a month old, neonates. They’re ideal because their physical bodies are so flexible and receptive. As Dr. Fox no doubt knows, all newborns have synaesthesia, the mothú, for the first month of their lives, until their brains develop. This means that every baby is born an indigo. The only exceptions are those born beyond indigo. You and Kaidan were both born violet — as was I. The point is, there’s a window of time, from when a baby is in the womb to one month after its birth, when it’s an empty vessel, a receptive shell. The physical body’s connection with its astral twin is still flexible, the silver cord is not fixed. There’s a hole in their crown chakra — the anterior fontanelle. You feel it as the soft spot on the top of a baby’s head. This is the portal.”
He smiled. “Although I can project my astral body at the moment of orgasm, it’s only fleeting.” He pointed to himself. “Because of the silver cord attached to my physical body I must always return to it. If I’m to lead our people into the future and reclaim our divine inheritance I must transcend my aging physical body. But when I cut the silver cord and reattach it to a brand new physical body it must be to the right one — a purer one.”
Sorcha’s mouth felt so dry she could hardly speak. “What are you saying?”
“Our progeny will be the perfect physical vessel. Your physical body already contains fifty percent of my DNA. Our child would contain seventy-five per cent. If you gave birth to a boy, I would have one month in which to take over the body.”
“How the hell would you do that?” said Fox. His face no longer showed anger, just incredulity.
“When my astral self leaves my physical body at the moment of orgasm, I’ll arrange for my physical self to die. This will sever the silver cord, freeing me from my old body. I can then enter the crown chakra of the unborn baby or neonate and reattach my cord to this new vessel. I will b
e reincarnated.”
“You really believe this?” said Sorcha. “You would kill yourself in order to be born again?”
“Of course. In order to be born again you have first to die. If you gave birth to a boy I could astral-project into him and be reborn.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re saying I would give birth to you — my own father?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “If you gave birth to a girl I could take it even further. I’m not yet sixty, I could wait till our daughter reached puberty, then inseminate her. The child she gave birth to would be made up of eighty-seven-point-five per cent of my DNA. I would be astral-projecting into a vessel that to all intents and purposes was a purer, better version of myself. Just as Sorcha is purer than me, then this offspring will be purer than her — beyond indigo, beyond violet. Pure white. A god.”
“And that god will be you?” said Fox.
“Yes.”
“How do you even know Sorcha’s fertile tonight?”
“This is only the first impregnation. We may need more. But this is the most fertile time for all the women in the settlement. Because of their constant close proximity to each other, all the women in the settlement eventually synchronize their cycles so they ovulate at the full moon. If Sorcha had been away for more than a month it might have changed, but she hasn’t.”
Colour of Death, The Page 31