Prose Header


The Chronicle of Belthaeous

by John W. Steele

Table of Contents

Chapter 22: Mindy Whithers


Gradually my strength returned. I held out my hand, and a fine tremor quivered in my fingers, but the paranormal entities were gone. The saber of paranoia that cut through my mind like a razor diminished to a state of mild anxiety. But this phase of the nightmare wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot.

I’d prepared for this moment for a long time, but the idea of confronting the Vulpeculan Council of Five felt like a death sentence, the equivalent of facing a guillotine.

Dr. Nacroanus had always dealt with them. Only now had I begun to realize just who I was up against and how much Adrian had protected me. But why had he shielded me from this group of Archons and demonic Archangels? And why was I the only person in the world he seemed to care about?

The leaden hour arrived. Escorted by security agents, I walked along the gleaming tiled floor of the corridor. In the distance, two immense steel doors folded and the guardians ushered me into a large antechamber. They waited for a moment and then turned and left the premises. The doors hissed shut and sealed with a thud.

A heavy stainless-steel panel like the door of a bank vault slid into the wall. Three Enukai agents stood at the threshold. They glared at me a moment, the red lasers of their eyes cold and piercing behind the smoked green lenses of their glasses. One of them walked over and stood behind me. None of them spoke, and we marched into the auditorium.

Inside, it was quite cool. An immense chamber like an amphitheater stood before me, its design like something out of the Roman Empire. The far wall formed a semicircular platform and held an elaborate carved jade table or altar.

Over the dais, a variegated half-dome ceiling supported by seven marble columns gave the room a sense of grandeur and authority. Statues of godlike deities sat on a rich oriental carpet that covered the floor. Raised seating lined the spectator area but did not rise above the altar in this stunted coliseum.

Mounted on the wall above the stage were at least a dozen enormous LCD monitors. The telescreens displayed the greatest cities on the Earth: London, Tokyo, and Moscow, Buenos Aires, San Francisco and so forth. Each screen cycled, and the entire globe could be scrutinized at the Council’s discretion.

Evidently, high-altitude satellites provided the data, because the screens could focus on an area as small as a dime and then sweep an entire continent mile by mile at incredible speed.

All activity of any importance could be measured in the screens. Masses of humanity walked along the avenues, lounged on the beaches, or clustered in the cosmopolitan centers of the world; few of them aware that their every movement fell under the scrutiny of the all-seeing eye of Mammon.

I peered into the distance and got my first glimpse of the deific Council of Five. Adrian had never described them in detail, and they were wondrous to behold.

A spotlight overhead beamed upon them with a lustrous violet radiance, and their faces gleamed with an ethereal grey-green sheen. I felt awed by their mind-shattering form and the power of their exotic presence.

Their heads were bulbous, expanding at the crown like an incandescent light bulb. Dark oval eyes sat far apart in their skulls and gleamed like sapphires.

The creatures were perhaps nine feet tall and very lean. Their angular bodies were flat with narrow shoulders and long arms that hung lower than a human’s. Loose gray robes concealed their true shape, but they appeared to be formed like ectomorphic hominids.

Each one of them wore an amulet of differently colored crystal. The stones varied in size, and luminescence and dangled from their necks by a looped beam of azure light.

In the center of this gaggle of mutated freaks stood one a bit taller than the others. Its features were feminine and its face smoother and more defined. One could even call her bewitching in an alien and abstract sense of the word.

Adrian had spoken with great veneration about the Council, but as I studied them closer there was something about them I could not understand. Though they projected an aura of great authority, they reminded me of zombies. I had the impression they were little more than celestial vampires that fed off the energy of those confined to their domain... There is no Light in them.

Their faces were impassive and intelligent, but their countenances remained fixed, as if incapable of expression. They gazed forward, and their heads did not turn. They looked stiff, as though their necks were incapable of any lateral movement or rotation. If they looked to either side, their entire torso pivoted but their heads remained stationary. This elite class of extraterrestrials was more alien in appearance than their country cousins the Enukai, and they were far more frightening.

Adrian told me that the council members were Fifth-Density negative entities who communicated directly with Mammon. Not even the race of Reptoids, which Adrian referred to as the Draco, were more powerful. In the higher dimensions of Darkness, the Council had no equal in authority.

The tall one stared at me for a moment, her face impassive and austere. I could feel her gaze penetrate my aura. Her tendrils entered my body and scraped my nerves with some kind of abrasive psychic energy. The sensation was maddening, and I struggled to control my fear.

She locked me in her gaze until I felt powerless to resist her. It was as though my body had petrified and I couldn’t move. When she finished her assessment, I felt hollow inside, like the victim of some kind of psychological trauma. She turned to the others in this socio-memory complex, and they formed a circle. They made not a sound and appeared to communicate among themselves.

Below the Council platform stood a large conference table with a marble top and a curved base. Baron Xenotula sat at the center. Unfortunately, he looked worse than I remembered him, fatter and even more repulsive.

He wore heavy sunglasses and a black silk kimono. Rolls of flesh strained against the fabric, giving the robe the impression of an overstuffed bag of melons. His legs were naked to the knee and they bulged with purple varicose veins.

Deep gobs of the acrylic grease clung to his mouth, and his lips reminded me of the protruding oral cavity of a sturgeon. When he saw me, he drew his claws into his fingertips. What a hypocrite. He was loathsome and nauseating to look at, and I turned my head in disgust.

To his right sat Dr. Nacroanus. He glanced at me when I walked in, and he looked rested and confident. To the left of Xenotula sat Colonel Falkenhorst, the same smug deadpan expression etched like a failed face-lift in his bland gray features.

Enukai agents and operatives filled the hall. In the balconies sat a number of Enukai that appeared to be bureaucrats or dignitaries. They wore royal-burgundy short-sleeved jackets and round, flaccid neckties that looked like bibs.

Behind Xenotula, one tier up, seven of Adrian’s medical assistants sat at a long mahogany forum table. I knew these people. Three of them were physicians, and two, neurobiologists. The other two were a man and a woman I’d never met, but I knew of them.

The man’s name was Dr. Jayden Hylic. He served as the Director of Neuropathology at Genibolic, and he had a gruesome reputation. He wore an eye patch, and it was rumored his entire body was covered with tattoos.

Next to him sat his nurse, a vixen named Hillary Arpage. My trusted colleague Mindy Whithers told me that Hillary had borne Dr. Hylic’s son and that they had sacrificed the infant to Mammon. Mindy wasn’t the type who made up stories, and from what else I had heard about these two, I wouldn’t put it past them.

The panel members smirked at each other when I entered the room. They hated my guts because Adrian respected my work, and me. I held mutual feelings for them. We tolerated each other, but Adrian had separated us long ago, and I carried on my research at the opposite end of the facility.

I received raw data and used factor analysis to develop rejection levels for the plasma Eternulum. I never knew where the data came from, nor did I question Adrian about it.

This group represented Adrian’s elite henchmen, who had been handpicked for their blind dedication and heartless cruelty. No act of depravity was beneath them.

Adrian told me that Hylic and his team were demons who had reincarnated from the Astral. And at one time, they had served as interrogators in the Holy Inquisition.

Intuitively, I sensed what was going on at Genabolic, but I remained in denial. Just as all carnivores refuse to accept the horrendous suffering animals must endure to provide food for humans higher in the food chain, I reasoned that one cannot be held accountable for the will to survive in this flawed creation and that to endure on this plane one must accept the necessity of horrible realities.

But Thrangu claimed that man did not reside at the top of the food chain, and that entities in higher dimensions feed on the negative energies they create in mankind through suffering and hardship.

The only beauty in this collection of deviates and sociopaths sat next to Dr. Nacroanus. Her name was Mindy Withers. She served as chief biologist and head of the department of Second-Density Genetics.

Though Mindy appeared morose and depressing when you first met her, save for the bodhisattva, she was the most sensual feminine masterpiece I had ever known. To express the essence of physical beauty, a woman must be flawless, but Mindy transcended this requirement. She set a standard that few women could achieve.

Her shimmering black hair, immaculate ivory skin, and dark, seductive eyes mesmerized anyone strong enough to endure her gaze.

Those who knew her on a casual level thought her to be conceited and condescending. But beneath her unpretentious confidence and cheerless personality lurked a sensitive and highly unique individual who had learned how to protect herself from the jealousy and malicious contempt of those less gifted. Mindy was not like them, and they hated her for the Light she held.

In an earlier period of her life, Mindy had been a world-class gymnast, and it was the perfected proportion of her form that set her apart. She moved with natural grace, and the smooth-toned lines of her form were honed to perfection.

Mindy was the mystery in night, the wonder of seduction, and the essence of an enchanted lover’s muse. She existed as an enigma, a beautiful sonnet expressed in human form, the irresistible allure of sex and death.

I loved her the minute I met her, as did almost every other red-blooded male with a heartbeat and even a trace of testosterone. She’d made it clear early on that she was way out of my league. I respected her for that. Unlike some desirable females who possess only cold exterior beauty, she was a lovely person inside as well. As long as I remained focused, we got along fine. Everyone knew she belonged to Adrian, and no one dared to get too close to her.

The stage was set. Soon the curtain would rise to usher a new dawn on mankind, a day made not of Light, but of darkness.

Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. The only force that stood between a world of total domination and dictatorship, and a world of freedom and choice, lay in the Eye of Mammon.

I’d always felt I was a hypocrite, unable to face my deepest fears. But every man that lives long enough must eventually choose by his reason the reality he will accept. I did not yet have the faith to ask for help to face this challenge; I had to do it on willpower alone. Conscience without the faith to believe in God is a horrible predicament, and it was easy for me to understand why many just abandon that which only causes pain and endless introspection.

All the exits were blocked. My bridges were controlled by the enemy and the walls of my reality were impenetrable. I had to fight, or I would forever be a slave to fear, a servant of Mammon. Man of faith, you are blessed, even if you are blind.

Dr. Nacroanus glanced at me. He pointed with his chin at the chair next to Mindy. I walked over and sat down. The room grew deathly silent, and a mood of contemplation filled the hall.

I could feel the magnetic frequency of the Council electric in the air. When their brainwaves entered the harmonic resonance of our vibration, they spoke as one voice, not with their mouths but with their minds.


Proceed to Chapter 23...

Copyright © 2014 by John W. Steele

Home Page