The Black Madonna (The Mystique Trilogy) Read Free Page A

shameless.’
    A tall fellow came into the site office, his dark hair flowing in the breeze. He strode towards one of the private offices, engrossed in a conversation he was having on his remote headset.
    ‘Speak of the devil,’ said Emmett without looking up.
    Killian Labontè was wearing a filthy pair of shredded jeans and a T-shirt so soiled its true colour was no longer determinable; it was difficult to recognise him from the celebrity pictures I’d seen of him. He sounded American rather than French, but I’d read thathe’d spent most of his youth in the US and had been educated there.
    ‘It speaks of the location of the lance,’ he said, then frowned as he entered the largest of the offices. ‘Of course I’m fucking sure!’ The door slammed closed.
    ‘Lovely,’ I commented, referring to Killian’s phone manner rather than his person. I looked at Emmett. ‘What lance does he mean?’
    ‘The all-powerful lance, staff, rod, sword that appears over and over again in Arthurian legends, and is supposedly the weapon that pierced the side of Christ at the crucifixion, yadda, yadda, blah, blah.’ Emmett sounded terribly bored as he rattled off the theory.
    ‘You think otherwise?’
    ‘The lance, or rather, the rod of ancient myth, didn’t make its first appearance at the crucifixion of Christ. Moses, the Levites and Solomon all had possession of the Rod and Ring of Power. It took an adept soul to wield either treasure, and they were creative tools more than implements of destruction. I believe that together the ring and rod might have formed a key.’
    I smiled. Emmett was right on the money. ‘A key to what?’
    ‘No one knows.’
    I knew. The rod and ring in question, when united by the Black Madonna, formed the key that would allow me and my missing prince to open the Halls of Amenti.
    ‘Then what leads you to believe they form a key?’ I asked.
    He shrugged and shied away from answering. ‘Whether they do or not, I’d still query how a mere Roman foot soldier came to possess one of the most powerful weapons on Earth, only to inflict harm upon one of Earth’s most adept souls with it.’
    I mulled over his theory. ‘Perhaps the foot soldier was in league with Christ, and used the weapon to secretly heal and not harm him?’
    Emmett was amused by the premise. ‘I can see why you write fiction.’ He returned to his computer.
    ‘Fact can be stranger than fiction,’ I teased, ignoring his insult.
    Killian Labontè opened his office door and, ripping the phone set from his head, threw it onto his desk. ‘Imbecile.’ Then he spied me standing by Emmett’s desk and his temper immediately dispersed.
    ‘Killian Labontè.’ He held his hand out and walked over to introduce himself.
    This was exactly the kind of confidence I would expect from one of the Nefilim, yet oddly enough his light-body appeared perfectly normal. There were a few muddy patches in his aura and light centres, but he had no major hang-ups and was very self-confident for a human of his age—not really surprising considering his cushy upbringing. Killian Labontè came off as a kind of happy-go-lucky rebel in the tabloids; they couldn’t get enough of him. His intense blue eyes, handsome features and good physique did make him rather easy on the eye.
    ‘Tamar Devere.’ I held out my hand and Killian held it fast in his as he became fixated by my eyes.
    ‘I’ve never seen violet eyes before…’ His attention shifted downward. ‘Or legs that long.’
    It was clear that Killian, like me, was used to inspiring awe in the opposite sex. Such an admiring gaze from the heir to a multi-billion-dollar fortune might have made some women feel uncomfortable and nervous, but I was confident.
    ‘And all in one neat package,’ I said flirtatiously.
    ‘Indeed.’ Killian raised my hand, intending to kiss it, but was interrupted by Emmett crushing his drink can and tossing it into the empty metal bin. Labontè closed his eyes briefly to