End of Days, page 23
He kissed her tenderly on her head.
‘Julia St Cartier, give the performance of a lifetime. You’re a brave woman. You always have been.’
They embraced.
‘I’m so proud of you,’ he said. ‘Now, remember, once the ceremony is over, Adrian will return straight to Jerusalem. You will follow.’
‘And the wedding night?’ Julia shook with revulsion.
Lawrence placed gentle hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. ‘I have it in hand. Trust me, he will be in no state to consummate your marriage. Be brave. Be strong. The nightmare is almost at an end.
‘Now, remember,’ he urged, ‘take the placebos in the pillbox. They are magnesium citrate. Here are herbal sedatives that will give you the appearance of being drugged, but they will not impair your thought process. I will be there to protect you.’
He looked up at the others. ‘We have to leave.’
Thirty seconds later, Julia lay alone in her room. Steeling herself for the arrival of the monster who would propose to her that night.
Resistance Safe House
Babylon
‘Alex, stay back a moment. I will escort you back to Doctor Markowitz. I have business to attend. Michael and Astaroth have minutes to escape.’
Alex stood back in the sewers, then succumbed to the overwhelming urge to turn around at the precise moment that Lawrence transformed into Jether. He rubbed his eyes. Liam Mercer was literally morphing into a nine-foot angelic being, massive seraph wings protruding from his spine.
‘You – you . . . I – I’m hallucinating.’
Michael looked over to Alex, laughing, his dimples showing.
‘Alexander Lane Fox, son of courage. Yes, I’m angelic.’
‘You, Alex,’ said Jether, ‘are looking into the face of Chief Prince Michael, Archangel, Commander of the Royal Armies of the Royal House of Yehovah.’
Alex picked up his Xphone.
‘No photographs, Alex,’ Jether declared in a voice like steel. ‘Now stay back.’
‘Jether.’ Michael embraced him fiercely.
‘Michael the Valiant. Yehovah be with you.’
‘Astaroth,’ Jether said.
Astaroth looked down at the floor. Jether walked over to him, and slowly Astaroth raised his gaze.
‘You were once Michael’s second-in-command.’
He took out a bottle of liniment and rubbed it on Astaroth’s open sores. Instantly, Astaroth became whole.
Jether put his hand in the folds of his robes and took out a golden ring with the seal of the Royal House of Yehovah embossed on it. ‘By the authority of the Royal House of Yehovah, you are to be reinstated, Astaroth.’
Slowly he placed the ring on Astaroth’s ring finger. ‘You will return with Michael to the First Heaven.’
‘I can’t . . .’ Tears ran down Astaroth’s cheeks. ‘I entered the Portal of Shinar. I am earthbound for eternity.’
Jether smiled and removed a handkerchief from his robes and carefully unwrapped it. In the centre of the cloth lay a burning, fiery ruby some three inches in diameter.
Michael gasped.
Jether nodded.
‘It is from Yehovah’s ephod. Michael, use it only in times of direst need.’
Jether held the blazing ruby to Astaroth’s heart.
Instantly, a shimmering blue arc of lightnings enveloped Astaroth’s entire body.
Astaroth fell to his knees, unable to stand, as the intense lightning surged through every cell of his being.
‘Your DNA frequencies are restored to their pre-banishment angelic state.’ Jether leaned over and anointed Astaroth on the forehead.
‘Your nightmare is finally over. Arise, Prince Astaroth of the Royal House of Yehovah. Serve your commander well. Now, go, before the dawn.’
‘Alex,’ Lawrence said, ‘we have twenty minutes to get back to the supercollider.’
‘I’m not going back, Professor. I can’t. I have to document what’s going on underground. The world has to see what monsters they are. It’s the least I can do for my grandmother. You can’t make me.’
Lawrence sighed deeply.
‘Like your mother, like your grandmother.’ Lawrence sighed.
‘Alex Lane-Fox, do you think I didn’t know when we sent you here that you wouldn’t be going back? Dr Anders surgically implanted a nano-camera transmitter – the same that Julia wears – when you were under sedation during your brief physical examination in Jordan. Weaver will activate the camera and microphone in precisely forty minutes from now. We will see and hear exactly what you see.
‘Stay close to the Resisters. The Ghost will come for you. Be vigilant. Be circumspect. This is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. These are not the Turks, Alex.’
Lawrence looked intensely into Alex’s eyes.
‘You are dealing with supernatural beings of untold power and aeons of evil. You are in far over your brilliant, intrepid head.’
Lawrence sighed deeply and turned to his right.
‘You can come out now. He’s staying, as we both knew he would.’
A figure walked out of the shadows.
It was Nick.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Adrian De Vere’s Suite
Tower of Alexander
Charsoc stood silently at the window. Adrian De Vere lay deeply asleep on the four-poster bed. Suddenly, his body started to oscillate, and an angelic form rose up from it, hovering directly above the sleeping form.
Lucifer stood to his full nine feet of height. His face, arms, and thighs were still horrifically burned from the Stones of Fire, but his ebony hair and black seraph wings had grown back.
He thrust his long fingers through his hair and smiled.
‘Matter,’ he hissed, looking disdainfully at the inert form on the bed.
‘The High Council is prepared,’ Charsoc said. ‘They await you in the vortex, Your Excellency.’
Vortex
Tower of Alexander
Lucifer stood, his six black seraph wings outstretched, facing the High Council.
He studied the Fallen before him: the Warlocks of the West, the Twins of Malfecium, the Witches of Ishtar, the Shaman Kings.
Lucifer paced the room. ‘The Tower of Alexander is erected in the exact place where the Tower of Babel stood. Above us lies the very reason that the Tower of Babel was destroyed. The Portal of Shinar; one of the major portals with access to the First Heaven. The only portal that is vulnerable – its force field between the land of men and the Second Heaven ruptured, torn’ – Lucifer sat on his throne, stroking his new wolf’s coarse white fur – ‘in the Tower of Babel–Nephilim fiasco.’
A faint smile flickered on his lips. ‘Yehovah confused their languages by day.’ He held out his hand to his cupbearer. ‘By night, Michael and his armies overthrew our battalions, took control of Shinar, and sealed the portal.’
He winced at the memory of his defeat, then snatched the golden goblet from his trembling cupbearer. ‘The interdimensional force field was permanently ruptured in the battle.’ His fingers caressed the rim of the goblet.
‘We reversed the restructuring process once before, from the Second Heaven down to Earth. Now we shall endeavour to do the same, this time from Earth to the Second Heaven, and make our entry through the rupture in the field.’
‘But our frequencies are permanently changed, your Majesty.’ Charsoc whispered. ‘We have no ability to travel beyond the Kármán Line.’
‘Am I a simpleton, Charsoc?’ Lucifer hissed.
Lucifer gestured to the Twins of Malfecium.
‘Maelageor!’ Charsoc bowed low. ‘The frequencies, Your Excellency. His Majesty summons Maelageor, first twin of Malfecium.’
Maelageor bowed deeply to Lucifer. ‘Your Majesty, as you are well aware, there has been a fundamental shift in the Fallen’s DNA since our banishment to this planet.’ He bowed again. ‘Whereas our frequencies previously were set to access the First and Second Heavens, our DNA has been reprogrammed by the Nazarene. We, the Fallen, no longer possess the capacity to rise above the atmosphere of Earth. However, if we can gain access to unfallen angelic DNA, it is entirely feasible that we could duplicate the Mark of Alexander . . .’
Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with the revelation.
‘But in reverse.’ Lucifer finished Maelageor’s sentence.
‘Indeed, Your Excellency. Instead of inserted Nephilim DNA to rewrite the human genetic code – the process we used in the Mark of Alexander – if we use DNA originating from a perfect angelic code, we can isolate the frequency gene and then programme it to rewrite our fallen genetic code. The challenge we face is obtaining access to unfallen angelic DNA.’
Marduk slunk towards the throne. He held out a missive to Lucifer.
Lucifer tore it open, scanned it, and then walked slowly to the monstrous crystal dome that housed the Bells of Limbo. Staring out over the fortress of Babel, he caressed the missive in his hands.
He turned to the Council.
‘I am almost tempted to convert.’
He held the missive high.
‘It seems today that even Lucifer’s prayers are answered. We have a visitor. A trespasser; one who is the bearer of unfallen angelic DNA, here in Babel.’
His lips curled in a malevolent smile.
‘Search every inch of Babel for my brother. Find him. Then bring him directly to me!’
He swung around to Charsoc, his eyes blazing with fervour.
‘Chief Prince Michael is here!’
Royal Palace
Tiberias
Sea of Galilee
Julia sat staring with dead eyes at her reflection in the ornate French mirror. She ran her hand lightly over the enormous bouquet of exquisite pale-pink and coral peonies – her wedding bouquet, flown in from Regent Street in London that morning.
Methodically she put on her primer, then her foundation, touched up her brows and eyeliner, and placed the finishing touches of pale-pink blusher onto her high cheekbones. She steeled herself. She had to get through the ceremony without giving Adrian the slightest indication that she was fully compos mentis.
The abbess entered, holding her freshly steamed wedding dress.
‘Oh, Madam Julia,’ she gasped, ‘it is so beautiful!’
Julia rose and walked over to the abbess. Her wedding dress was exquisite, classical – white satin, taffeta, and silk chiffon, with a low-cut back.
The sweeping skirt of tiers of ruffles and lace fell to the floor; boleros, capes, and veils draped themselves over a bustier with an off-the-shoulder cut. Sewn with silk and platinum thread, it was timeless.
‘I’m ready,’ Julia said softly.
The abbess helped her into the white creation and arranged the long train.
Julia stared at herself in the mirror.
The classic fairy-tale bride – about to be wedded to consummate evil.
The monster.
‘I need to be alone, Abbess.’
With a nod, the abbess checked that the medication dose was gone.
‘You’ve had your medication. Good. You have twenty minutes before the carriage arrives to take you to the shore.’ The abbess smiled almost tenderly. ‘You look exquisitely beautiful, Madam Julia.’
And with that, the abbess left, softly closing the doors to the palatial suite behind her.
Julia breathed in and took out two of the herbal sedatives Lawrence had given her. She drank them down with the Perrier water on her right.
They would give her the appearance of still being heavily drugged.
‘C’mon, girl,’ she murmured to herself. ‘You were the lead in the college plays.’
She put on her lipstick, spritzed her face with setting spray.
She placed the veil with the glittering diamond tiara on her head, then covered her face with the veil.
Royal Wedding
Tiberias
The silver-and-white-striped pavilion stretched along the shores of Galilee for fully half a mile to cater for the five thousand dignitaries who had flown in on twenty-four hours’ notice from every corner of the Axis Ten kingdom.
Inside the pavilion was a vast expanse of white tables and blue Tiffany Parisian tablecloths, adorned with the finest crystal stemware and Limoges china. No expense had been spared. Blossoming peonies in silver urns were the centrepiece for each table. It was a sight worthy of a Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale.
Julia couldn’t help recalling her own tiny wedding to Jason.
They had been so young. Jason wasn’t eligible for his trust fund at the time and was supremely independent of his family, as always. They had been married at a Justice of the Peace’s office in New Jersey, then gone out to party with their few closest friends.
Their wedding night was spent with giggles and laughter, trying to fit in a three-quarter-size bed, with six-foot Jason complaining the whole time.
But they were finally together. And that was their joy.
Julia disembarked from the golden carriage pulled by eight white Arab stallions and walked toward the Garden of Ceremony, her train carried by six eight-year-old bridesmaids.
Xavier Chessler, dapper as always, hurried over to her side.
‘I have the rings.’ Chessler beamed. ‘Highest viewing statistics in the history of broadcasting, my dear. Are you ready?’
Julia nodded. ‘Where’s Uncle Lawrence?’
Chessler’s mouth tightened. ‘Your uncle is waiting for you.’
Julia turned, and her whole body relaxed.
There stood Lawrence St Cartier, immaculately attired in an ivory suit and paisley cravat, with a white Panama hat and cane.
‘Ah, my beautiful niece. You look divine.’
Adrian stood twenty metres down the garden aisle, in deep conversation with Kester Von Slagel.
Julia studied Adrian. The monster.
Handsome as always, his ebony hair in an elegant cut. Well preserved tan. Perfectly veneered teeth.
Today he wore a soft-grey morning suit of wool, cashmere, and diamonds, with a silver cravat, an Audemars Piguet watch, and a pair of elegant men’s dress shoes studded with full-cut round white diamonds. The embodiment of modern royalty.
He caught her eye and smiled.
The monster, Julia thought, smiling back.
Tomorrow, he would execute his own brother.
She was about to become the Bride of Frankenstein.
The hundred-piece orchestra, flown in from Vienna, began to play.
‘Take my arm.’ Lawrence sneezed, then sneezed again. ‘Mandragora,’ he muttered. ‘He must have showered in it just to rile me.’
Julia frowned. Kester Von Slagel was wearing an electric-pink tuxedo with a fuchsia cravat under a voluminous cerise- and saffron-striped robe, and a turban to match. She caught Lawrence’s eye, and they erupted in laughter.
‘How does he hold his hands up with the weight of those jewels?’ Julia whispered.
‘With great difficulty, my dear,’ Lawrence remarked drily.
Lawrence took Julia’s elbow and started to walk her up the aisle.
‘To your right, the kings and queens of Norway, Belgium, and Denmark, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom; to your left, the President and First Lady of the United States. The row behind them is entirely Secret Service, I might add. Charles and Diana’s wedding pales by comparison. We’ve had to keep over a thousand press photographers fifty metres away, and the paparazzi even further.’
They walked slowly up the aisle.
Towards the monster.
Julia stopped mid-step.
‘Courage, dear heart. Ten minutes, and the ceremony’s over and the champagne starts flowing. Which, I might add, was flown in at dawn from the Rhône. The plan to rescue you, and Jason, is in motion. Give the performance of your life.’
Julia was now only five steps away from Adrian.
Lawrence took both Julia’s hands in his and kissed them, then delivered her into his strong grasp.
‘Professor Lawrence St Cartier,’ Adrian said icily.
‘Your Excellency.’
‘You look beautiful, Julia.’ Adrian smiled. ‘You make me proud.’ He turned to Chessler.
‘Chessler, you have the rings?’
‘I have the rings unless Liberace here has them.’
Von Slagel gave Chessler an icy stare and continued to polish his vermilion index-finger ring with vigour.
‘Well, let’s get on with it,’ Adrian declared. ‘We’ve an intense schedule tomorrow.’
An execution, Julia thought silently.
She caught herself though, and smiled softly through her veil at Adrian.
‘Let’s get this over, Julia, darling.’ Lawrence kissed her again, then moved to the front row and sat down beside Von Slagel. He held his handkerchief to his nostrils.
‘Did you have to shower in it, Charsoc?’
Charsoc smiled. ‘Mandragora. I like to be extremely clean, Jether.’
‘Clean, and quite dashing in pink, I must say. There’s so much material, you must have cleaned out the whole of southern England’s Oxfam charity shops.’
Charsoc glared at him from under newly waxed eyebrows.
‘It’s Turkish. Expensive,’ he hissed. ‘Anyway, you look as if you’ve just arrived back from Kenya in the fifties.’ He gave a self-satisfied smirk. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I would think it quite evident. My niece is betrothed and about to be married. Now, could you please move your carpetbag?’
Charsoc took out a handful of chocolate toffees, put four in his mouth, and sucked loudly on them.
‘Couldn’t you wait till the ceremony is finished?’ said Lawrence.
‘My mouth is dry. I detest this heat. This parched tract of dust sends my blood pressure spiralling.’ Charsoc uncapped a green bottle and threw three tablets into his mouth.
‘I have it on good account that Xacheriel has now built his own Tardis,’ he said.
‘Why? Do you want it? For your carpetbag?’ Lawrence studied Charsoc’s attire. ‘Although you could fit it under that monstrosity of a turban you’re wearing.’
‘Why did you come, Jether?’ Charsoc hissed. ‘You do nothing without an agenda.’
‘My agenda is solely the well-being of my niece.’ Jether stared out at the Sea of Galilee. ‘And one other, Charsoc the Dark.’
