The Black Madonna (The Mystique Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF Page B

all-girl early-century revival band on stage, pumping out a song that had been written before I was born; and on the dance floor I recognised a heap of faces from the tabloids—a good number of whom were Dracon, or dating one.
    Killian grinned. ‘I warrant you’ll be thankful to escape to the VIP area before long.’ He cast his eyes around the club, having noted that every eye in the room, male and female, was on me. ‘It seems I’m not your only admirer,’ he whispered.
    I smiled at his flattery, but on the inside I was concerned about the company Killian kept. Was he leading me up the garden path, or was he blissfully unaware that his social circle was filled with the same body-snatching beings that had taken over his parents?
    I strode, head high, through the ranks of my fallen subjects, unafraid of a confrontation. They weren’t sufficiently psychically adept to see through my luscious disguise to who I really was—their judge and redeemer.
    At the side of the stage was a staircase guarded by more Dracon, who welcomed my date and me as if we were royalty.
    ‘I want to introduce you to my band,’ Killian shouted to me as we scaled the stairs. ‘We might play tonight, if we get the urge.’
    ‘Cool,’ I replied over the din.
    Killian and his band, Daddy’s Bitch, didn’t seem to take their music career very seriously, but because they were the famous progeny of the social elite they were a charting success worldwide. They never toured, but did surprise gigs, which they streamed to their fans over the net for free. I’d never really listened to their music as it was rather dark and heavy, but it looked as if that blissful oversight was about to be corrected.
    The VIP lounge was sparsely populated and it was easy to spot the company Killian sought. The members of Daddy’s Bitch and their sycophants were gathered around a lounge setting by the large Gothic fireplace, fiddling with their instruments, drinking and smoking dope. There were three others in the band that Killian fronted. The only female, Co-co Yamamoto, was the daughter of the Japanese banking tycoon, Taro Yamamoto. Co-co played bass guitar but was more famous for beating unwanted reporters to a pulp, as she was a triple black belt in karate.
    Jeb Savage, the lead guitarist, was the son of the American politician Bob Savage, who was set to run for the Republicans in the forthcoming American presidential election. Jeb and Killian had been best friends since junior high and had endured many public debacles together. Jeb and Co-co had been an item since the band formed three years before.
    The drummer, Steve Marx, was nicknamed ‘Wildcat’ for two reasons. The first was that it described his general personality and behaviour to a T. The second reason was that, as the son of the English multimedia magnate James Marx, none of Wildcat’s outrageous exploits ever made it into the tabloids or TV news. His father had a strong monopoly on and extensive influence over the European press, and thus the infamous drummer loved to emphasise the fact that, just like a wildcat, he was a protected species in Europe.
    I stood back as Killian greeted his best friends warmly and they responded with an equal amount of enthusiasm. I knew the band members by sight—their faces were as familiar to the world as those of their powerful parents. But upon this personal viewing, I learned much more about them than the press ever had. Obviously Killian didn’t realise that his close-knit group of rebellious rockers had already joined the ranks of the Nefilim and were his true friends no longer.
    I needed to get the band alone if I wished to expose these impostors for who they were. My reasoning was, the faster I took Killian into my confidence, the faster I could discover how much he really knew. He was surrounded by his enemies, who would lead him straight to the same damning fate that had befallen them. And if, as I suspected,Mathu’s soul mind was buried in Killian’s