Morgaine and Asmodeus
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Renaissance
www.renebooks.com
Copyright ©2004 Joe Vadalma
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The Morgaine Chronicles
Book V
MORGAINE AND ASMODEUS
By
JOE VADALMA
A Renaissance E Books publication
ISBN 1-58873-535-4
All rights reserved
Copyright 2004 by Joe Vadalma
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.
For information:
Publisher@renebooks.com
PageTurner Editions/A Futures-Past Fantasy
SYNOPSIS
In the novel, Morgaine and Gretchen, Denise Fabiano, a five-year-old girl, and her mother had moved in with Denise's grandfather, who lived in an ancient mansion in the Catskill Mountains in New York State. Papa Joe amused little Denise with fabulous tales of fairies, gremlins, sorcerers and pirates. When Papa Joe told her the story of Rip Van Winkle, she asked whether Henry Hudson's ghost was still in the mountains. He tells her, “When there's thunder and lightning in the mountains with no rain, that means that Henry Hudson and his men are bowling. Just like in the story. Fairies and other odd folk also live in these woods. When you see tiny lights blinking on and off in the forest, those are fairies carrying lanterns."
One day little Denise followed a little man in the woods. There she encountered the little people, who gave her a charm to remember them by. After Denise and her mother moved to the city, Denise believed that her encounter with fairies was simply childish imagination. Nonetheless, she kept the talisman, not sure where it really came from, and still had an interest in magic, which she fulfilled by learning parlor tricks and reading fantasy novels. When she turned nineteen, she joined a Wiccan coven and took the name of Morgaine, because it was like the name of the sorceress of the Arthurian legend, Morgan le Fay.
As she was about to graduate from college, Papa Joe began to show symptoms of Alzheimer's. Because of his illness, she moved into his old house in the country to take care of him. One day, while she stared at the woods, she saw a dwarf. As she had done as a child, she followed him into the land of the fairies. The queen of the fairies told her that she will grant Morgaine's wish to learn magic if she promised to do always do white magic, never black. If she ever breaks that promise, the consequences will be dire.
When Papa Joe died, Morgaine moved back to the city. One day she visited an art gallery. While there, she magically entered a painting called The University of Magic. At this otherworld university, magic is taught by sorcerers from past. While she pursued her magical studies, she fell in love with Michael, an ancient sorcerer who had received a thousand years of life from the archdemon Asmodeus. When he graduates from the University of Wizardry and must return to the fifteenth century, they part tearfully. She believed that she would never see him again.
However, when she returns from the otherworld, she encountered him again as a famous astrologer and psychic, and they again became lovers.
CHAPTER 1
THE PLAN TO SAVE MICHAEL
The previous six months had been bliss for Morgaine Fabiano. She and Michael Ellul had many things in common; outlook, politics, the way they viewed psychic phenomena and their sexual appetite. Yet, she worried that he did not love with her with the same intensity that she adored him. That special spark that had existed between them, when they were in that other world where the University of Magic was located, had dissipated. He no longer doted on her every whim. They no longer conversed for hours as they had done in that other world. When they had first met, a touch, a brushing against each other, could send him into a frenzy of passion. After the first couple of weeks of their reunion, their love making was no longer as torrid, nor as frequent. Nine hundred years had passed from the fifteenth century, where Michael was sent after he left the university. No doubt, in all that time there had been a many, many women whom he'd had great passions for, perhaps even greater than he'd had for her. After all, he was a sensual man.
She took this in her stride. At least she had not lost him completely, as she had feared when he graduated the University of Magic. She only hoped that she could reawaken the spark that had made their initial romance like one of those great love stories in fiction. To keep from seeming desperate or needy, she pretended to be an independent-minded women who could take men or leave them. She did not admit to him how strong her love really was. Instead, she told their friends and acquaintances that she was his love slave, that he had mesmerized her, that he was her Svengali. Her tone was such that neither Michael nor their acquaintances could tell whether she really thought that, whether she considered it a joke or whether it was a defensive wall that she put up.
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Well past midnight, Morgaine sat straight up in bed and shouted, “Sacrificed. No, don't, please."
Her movement and cry woke Michael. He turned on the light and asked, “Morgaine. What's the matter? You look as though you've seen a ghost."
"Not a ghost. A demon. Bad dream. Terrible nightmare.” She wrinkled her brow in thought. “It remains so clear in my head and intensely real that I'm sure that it's a psychic vision.” She was sure the dream was trying to tell her something important, but was puzzled as to what that could be. “Michael, you're an expert in prophetic dreams. Or at least you were in the otherworld. You've got to interpret it for me."
"Tell me about it."
"Well when it started, I was in a dungeon, naked and chained to a wall. After a while, a nude black man, tall and muscular, a veritable giant, like a basketball player, opened my cell door and led me out by my chain. And by black man, I don't mean like someone of African descent. I mean this fellow's skin was the color of coal. However, his head was bare of flesh and muscle—a skull head."
Michael snorted. “I thought you said this was a nightmare. This is beginning to sound like a sexual fantasy."
She raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Maybe it was in a way. If real black men were as well hung as this guy, I'd be living with one now. Shall I continue?"
"I'm sorry. Go ahead."
"He brought me to this cavern where an enormous throne rested on a dais, and chained me to an iron ring. The chain was long, so I could move about any place in the cavern. There were other women, all beautiful and naked, and other giant skull-heads. Somehow I knew that I had been brought to this place to be the slave of whoever was to occupy the throne.
"The throne faced steps leading to a stone door carved with evil reliefs. After a while trumpets sounded, followed by a grinding like slabs of rock scraping together, the door opened, and a man dressed like an Arab came down the steps. That man was you, Michael. You glared around and said, ‘Where art Asmodeus?’”
Michael paled. “Asmodeus? I asked where Asmodeus was? Not Lucifer or Baal? You're certain?"
Morgaine gazed at him quizzically. “Yes, I'm certain. The name means something, doesn't it? I've struck a chord. Was Asmodeus the demon who granted you a thousand years of life?"
"I'll tell you later. Finish telling me your dream."
"Okay. Well you walked into the place like you owned it. You came up to me, picked up the chain attached to a collar around my neck and laughed. ‘You see, Morgaine my dear, the truth about me. Now you're my slave in hell.'
"I repl
ied, ‘Yes Michael, but it's not necessary to keep me in fetters.'
"Without replying you sat in the throne. The moment you did that you turned into a horrible monster with three heads, only one of which was human. You roared for me to bow down at your feet, which I did. ‘I have a message for the one I have given a precious gift. Remember it well. His time on earth is almost over. If he wishes the boon of walking the earth for another thousand of the earth's passages of the cold to warmth, the one who loves him with such a great passion that she would lay down her life for him must be sacrificed to me. But a word of warning. One who loves him could also cause his downfall.'
"The skull men carried me to an altar and chained me so that I was lying on my back. You appeared again from somewhere. This time you were dressed as a Druid priest in white robes. In your hand was a dagger. You chanted something I did not understand. When you finished, you raised the knife. I knew you meant to strike it into my heart. That's when I woke up."
"I see."
"I see. That's all? You know what the dream means, don't you, Michael? Tell me."
"Very well, but it's late. Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow."
Morgaine hit him on the shoulder with her fist in a playful manner. “No way. I couldn't stand the suspense. Tell me now. We'll sleep later."
Michael shook his head. “I see. You're a hard woman, making me go into something like this at...” He glanced at the alarm clock. “...three-thirty in the morning. Before I start though, the words of the demon, are you quoting them exactly, as you remember them from your nightmare?"
"As close as I can recall."
"All right. Asmodeus said ‘the anniversary of the date of I received this gift.’ This must mean Samheim five years from now."
"This gift? Did the demon Asmodeus mean your longevity?"
"Yes, so you see, Morgaine, my time on earth is nearly at an end. In a few short years, Asmodeus will take me into his domain."
"Okay, in my dream Asmodeus said that if you sacrifice one who loves you with a great passion, you could live another thousand years. Are you planning to sacrifice me?"
Michael shook his head sadly. “In the first place, although we've been living together, I would hardly describe our affair as a passionate love fest. It's not like when we first met. I've changed in nine hundred years. To tell the truth, although I admire you greatly and think our sex life is great, I'm not in love with you, not in the way I was then. And I hardly think you're that passionate about me.” (To Morgaine's dismay, not only were her worst fears about his feelings toward her correct, but her act had been too good. He thought she really was as casual about their affair as she pretended.) “I don't think you fit the demon's criteria."
Morgaine sighed and looked away, fighting back tears. To disguise her chagrin, when she faced him again, it was with a nasty grimace. “I guess I knew that all along. But Michael, your time is so short. You must find a great love and sacrifice her."
"If I really loved her, how could I sacrifice her?"
"I see what you mean. Don't you want to live another thousand years?"
"Of course I do. Nevertheless, I'm resigned to my fate."
"Hmm. Maybe there is another way. We have a couple of years left to find out. Meanwhile, I think we should give each other a little space for a while."
"But why? I thought we were going to be partners in an institute for the study of the paranormal."
"Oh, I didn't mean not being friends and partners. But we've got to stop being lovers and living together. You've got to be free to meet a woman who can truly love you."
"If that's the way you want it."
"I do. I truly do. Don't worry about me, Michael. I was getting bored with our relationship anyway. I was planning on cuckolding you soon.” She did not look at him as she said this.
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Things did not work out exactly as planned. For a long time after Morgaine broke up their romantic relationship, Michael was too busy to date other women. His fortune had turned. After an appearance on a talk show, he garnered a small amount of fame, which in turn, made his column more popular and got him into the social circles of the rich and famous. He became involved with the opening of their psychic institute, went on more lecture tours for which he was paid a great deal of money and invited as a guest on several TV and radio programs. In addition, he was able to purchase a mansion in upstate New York at a bargain price. On a few occasions, Morgaine and he still made love. They performed secret occult experiments in an attempt to discover whether Michael could save himself from the doom hanging over him.
"The thing is,” Morgaine said one day, “you've got such a short time left. You should've started trying to learn Asmodeus’ secrets a long time ago."
Michael sighed. “I started the day after I realized that the demon had really granted me a thousand years of life. I believe it's a lost cause. Asmodeus is a devious and powerful entity. I'm a mere human being. What chance do I have to outwit it?"
"He gave you an out. I assume you've slept with other women since I moved out. Why don't you try harder to make them fall in love with you?"
"Morgaine, you talk as though you've never experienced real love. You know damn well that it either hits one like a ton of bricks or is not there at all. I don't know; maybe women are more practical in the art of amour. With me, it always strikes right out the blue. I see a certain woman, and I know instantly that I will fall head over heels for her. It must have to do with matching auras or destiny."
Morgaine shook her finger at him. “You're an incurable romantic. With you it's love at first sight or nothing. Oh Michael, what am I to do with you?” She took out her Tarot deck and asked it how Michael could avoid his fate. The answer in the cards was surprising—continue with his career and travel. They indicated that something musical would be involved a deeply felt love. “The answer the Tarot is giving me is too vague and cryptic,” she complained. “To get the information we need, I'll use the trance state to have a psychic vision. That will let me know what we must do."
"Be careful, Morgaine. You know the trance state can be dangerous when done alone."
"Don't worry. I'll take every precaution. Before I do though, I want to know something."
"What?"
"Asmodeus gave you a book. What was in it? What happened to it?"
"It contained a lot of sorcery information but parts were in a language that did not match any modern or ancient human language that I could discover. Over the centuries it crumbled to dust. I kept copying sections of it, many times over since even the copies deteriorated with time. And each time I copied it, information was lost. Either I made mistakes, got lazy or waited so long that whole chapters became unreadable. Less than a third of the original information remains."
"Where? Where do you keep it now?"
"In my computer. I also have backup diskettes in a safe-deposit box. But Morgaine, I've encrypted and password protected it. I will show it to no one—ever. Not even you. The sorcery it describes is too powerful. If the wrong person used it, it could have terrible consequences."
"I'm hurt. You know I can be trusted. Let me access them. There may be something that you've missed that could help your situation."
"No. I'm sorry Morgaine, but such powerful magic is too tempting. I performed it once; the results were disastrous and horrible."
"But I'll not try anything without consulting you. I want to determine whether anything in it pertains to your problem."
"I know your intentions are good, but once the information is in your mind, it'll stay there. Some day, for some reason, you'll be tempted to use it. Or maybe not even use it, but tempted to tell someone. Or someone will find out that you have such knowledge and force it out of you."
"I see there's no arguing with you about this. Never mind. But Michael, if you won't let me see it, at least review the information yourself. There must be a clue in it somewhere, something that you hadn't thought of."
"Okay, I'll do that."
"I should go with you. In case something goes wrong. I don't want to find you comatose."
She patted his cheek. “Don't worry about me. I've done this sort of magic many times. You just study the Asmodeus information. Call me tomorrow."
With that she turned and left. When she returned to the small cottage she had rented, she called Mephistopheles, gave him orders and let him out her door.
* * * *
Michael waited until after dinner to access his files. As he entered the password and encryption code for his secret files, something brushed his arm. “What?” he cried and turned in his chair. A cat spit, meowed and scampered away. “Oh, it's you, Mephistopheles. Damn! Morgaine left her cat here again."
He followed the feline to the door where it scratched to get out. He knew that Mephistopheles had a mysterious knack for finding his way back home. The cat had done it several times before. The first time Morgaine had forgotten him, Michael called her. She told him to let the cat out the door, that he was like a homing pigeon. At the time Michael didn't believe her, but did as she requested. After all, it was her pet. If she didn't worry about it getting lost or run over, why should he? Nevertheless, Mephistopheles arrived at her house not twenty minutes later. She phoned him to let him know.
* * * *
Morgaine was in a trance state when Mephistopheles came through the cat door. It waited patiently for her to awaken, sitting straight up, unblinkingly directly in front of her chair. Finally, Morgaine opened her eyes, batted her eyelids a few times, gazed down at the cat and held her hands out. The cat leaped into her lap. “Did you get what I asked?"
Mephistopheles purred contentedly.
"Oh wonderful, darling. You're such a good kitty.” She hugged the animal. “You see dear, the answer to Michael's problem is in the data he keeps in the computer. After he leaves for Chicago next week, I'll access those records. Luckily, he doesn't know that I have a key to his lab. So don't tell him, sweetie.” She petted Mephistopheles, running her hands sensuously through the fur along his back and tail, tickling him under his chin along the jaw line and scratching his ears. Mephistopheles squinted his eyes shut and purred loud and strong.