by R. D. Brady
Laney closed her eyes. Damn it. More deaths. “Why do you think it’s related to the Council?”
“Probably for the same reasons you do. A Fallen wouldn’t need to grab kids before their powers manifested. And there’s a good chance some of these kids won’t even have powers. That makes humans the most likely candidates. And when it comes to this stuff, ‘humans’ means the Council.”
She couldn’t fault his logic. “Okay. So have you found out anything?”
“There’s been a lot of turmoil in the High Council in the last two years. New members have been added to the High Council.”
Surprise filtered through her. New members? They’d learned that within the Council was a higher council composed of six members, one each from six ruling families. They were the power behind all of the Council’s activities.
“And how does one become a new member of the High Council?” Laney asked.
“You have to demonstrate that you’re a descendant of Atlantis.”
It took Laney a moment to find her voice. “How on earth do they accomplish that?”
“They used to require a well-documented family tree. But now there’s a much easier and more foolproof method.”
“What’s that?”
“A DNA test.”
CHAPTER 11
Laney stared at the phone. A DNA test that proves Atlantean lineage? Then it hit her. “Haplogroup X.”
“Yep.”
Haplogroups, Laney knew, were a sort of genetic marker that could be used to identify groups of people with a shared ancestry. People from northern Europe would might tend toward one haplogroup, and people from southern Asia another. By measuring the types and distribution of haplogroups in a population, it’s possible to determine where that population’s ancestors came from.
Haplogroups proved to be particularly useful in understanding the global ancestry of Native Americans. Original testing indicated that Native Americans shared four distinct lineages: Haplogroups A, B, C, and D. Haplogroups A, C, and D migrated from Siberia, entering the Americas around 35,000 BCE. Haplogroup B was associated with populations in Southeast Asia, China, Polynesia, and even Japan, and migrated to the Americas much later, around 11,000 BCE.
Laney knew there was controversy about these dates. Some scientists argued that all the Native Americans migrated at the same time. Others suggested four separate journeys. The most popular theory, based upon linguistics, was the Greenberg theory, which argued that there were three distinct migration periods.
But then, in 1997, a different haplogroup was discovered: group X. Haplogroup X was found in about seven percent of Europeans and Middle Easterners as well as three percent of Native Americans (although in some tests it comprised a whopping twenty-five percent of certain tribes).
The problem was that haplogroup X indicated a much earlier habitation of America than most scholars were comfortable with. According to genetic testing, haplogroup X first appeared on American shores around 34,000 BCE—and then it showed up again, in even greater numbers, in 10,000 BCE. Both dates coincide with the alleged destructions of Atlantis.
A flicker of memory stirred in the back of Laney’s mind. She remembered that Edgar Cayce had made some predictions about early America. He argued that parts of the Southwest had been inhabited ten million years ago. And Cayce also argued that the Atlanteans became the Iroquois, although he did allow that some of the Iroquois were not actually from Atlantis but were indigenous to North America. And the more recent research linked Haplogroup X to the Iroquois.
Laney also remembered something about the X group being tied to the Mound Builders.
“So the Council believes that people with haplogroup X are descendants of Atlanteans?” Laney asked.
“Yes. And this new DNA testing requirement caused a schism in the Council. Families that had formerly been held in high regard were unceremoniously dumped. In fact, you know one of them.”
Laney thought for a moment. “Flourent.”
“Yes. He was denied membership, although I doubt even he knows why.”
Laney nodded. Sebastian Flourent had been incensed when his membership to the Council had been denied. In fact, it was that denial that had spun him off on his own mission to recover the Atlantis library from Ecuador—a mission that had resulted in dozens of deaths, mostly from among the Shuar tribe.
The anger at the senseless destruction in Ecuador flared inside Laney yet again. She tamped it down. She needed to stay on track. “Okay. So the High Council is having some membership issues. How does that related to the abductions?”
Clark’s voice was heavy. “In our records, it mentions that there are only six members of the High Council. One of whom is its head.”
Laney nodded. She knew the current head of the Council was Phillip Northgram, the well-known CEO of Banchfield Trust, a hedge fund based in Chicago but with offices in Los Angeles, New York, and Atlanta. Billions of dollars ran through Banchfield annually. He had taken over as CEO when his father had retired. And reportedly, he was grooming his young daughter to take over after him one day.
“Well, it turns out that those records are wrong. There are not six members—there are seven.”
“Seven? Who’s the seventh?”
“The real head of the Council. And I have no idea who he is. In fact, I didn’t even know he existed until a week ago.”
“What happened?”
“One of my men managed to intercept a piece of correspondence between two members of the High Council. In it, they spoke of this seventh member. My agent tried to track him down. We found his body a few days later. His partner is the one who’s gone missing.”
Laney closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“We pulled in one of the High Council members. The man was terrified. But not of us. He was terrified of this seventh member. He wouldn’t say anything about him. In fact, he claimed he didn’t even know who the head really was. He said the man’s identity was never revealed. He sends emissaries on his behalf to all meetings and is never seen.”
“Has anyone else ever gone looking for him?”
“No. And the emissaries always show up dead a few days later as well.”
“And there’s nothing in the SIA records on this seventh member?”
“I’ve combed the SIA archives looking for a hint, but no luck. And to be honest, I think the man we interviewed was telling the truth: not even the other members of the Council know the identity of their leader. So whoever the seventh member is, they’re covering their tracks exceptionally well.”
Clark was quiet for a moment.
A seventh member? Laney thought. Was it possible? And did it matter? Were the inner workings of the High Council related to the missing kids?
“There’s more,” Clark said. “Like I said, the Council dates back centuries. And this seventh member’s identity, whoever he or she is, has been anonymous since the Council began.”
“How do you know that?”
“The Council member we grabbed? We grabbed all his journals as well.”
“But you can’t mean to say it’s been the same person for centuries?”
“No, I can’t see how that’s possible. But if you’d let us see those Council books you got from Flourent, we could put them together with this other set and probably figure out what family the seventh member represents.”
Now it was Laney’s turn to pause. “Actually, I think we’ll hold on to them. But we’ll go through them ourselves. And if we find something, we’ll let you know.”
“Okay. But Laney, I think you should make that a priority.”
“Well, the missing kids are the priority right now.”
“I understand that. But if they’re linked…”
Laney nodded, knowing he was right.
Clark’s voice was serious as he spoke. “Laney, it’s getting dangerous out there. And if you’ve been called, we know it’s only going to get more so. Having a player on the board but unknown, well… that makes me nervous.�
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Laney nodded and dropped her head back against the couch. “Me too, Matt. Me too.”
CHAPTER 12
Baltimore, Maryland
Laney sat back from the desk in her office and glanced over at the window. Darkness was just beginning to creep across the sky.
She stretched her back, trying to work out the kinks. Her head was pounding. She had just spoken with Henry and Jake. They hadn’t found any new information about the kids’ abductions. Jake still had a few more leads to try and run down, and Henry was arranging for them all to go speak with Phillip Northgram of the High Council tomorrow.
The building was quiet, which was unusual. With over two dozen teenagers under the roof and another dozen staff members, it was usually bustling. But most were out back where Henry had set up a carnival to welcome the kids.
Laney crossed the room to the coffee machine, poured herself a large mug, and took a sip. Her mind yet again sifted through all the information she’d read on the abductions, trying to find a string she could tug to unravel the knot. But there were no clues and no witnesses. The kids were simply there one minute and gone the next.
The closest they’d come to a suspect was a cable guy. Sheila Macintosh, the mom of the twins, had let him in for the scheduled visit, showed him where the TVs were, and then stayed with him while he worked. After about thirty minutes, he finished up and left, and she went to check on the boys. They were gone.
Originally the police thought the cable man was in on it—distracting the mother while his accomplices made off with the twins—but the man had no criminal record and further investigation cleared him. Once again, it was a dead end.
In her heart, Laney knew the kids were probably already dead. They’d been gone for too long. There was no reason for someone to hold on to them. But even if it was too late to save those kids, they still needed to find out who was behind this, and quickly, so they could stop them before some other child was grabbed.
No. You can’t think that way, she warned herself. She needed to believe those kids were alive until she had hard proof that they weren’t. And she’d find whatever asshole was behind their abductions and make sure they paid.
But right now, there were some different kids she needed to focus on. She glanced at the clock. She had maybe an hour before the welcome dinner began.
Laney crossed back to the desk and dropped back into her chair. She glanced over the list of things that still needed to be done with a sigh. Then she opened the drawer on her right, pulling out a bottle of aspirin. She dropped two aspirin in her mouth and washed them down with a swig from her water bottle.
Her eyes strayed to the stack of papers held together with a binder clip in the open desk drawer.
“Hey, Lanes.” Yoni Benjamin stuck his head in the door with a grin.
Laney pulled her eyes from the drawer. “Hey, Yoni, what’s going on?”
“Just wanted to let you know the toilet’s backed up in the boys’ wing. I called the plumber. He’ll be here in an hour.”
Laney stared at the piles of paper on her desk: plumbing issues, kitchen re-stock, new supplies needed for the kids coming later today, and a hundred other things. What was one more?
She ran her hands through her hair, sighing. “Yoni, how did we go from saving the world one day to plumbing issues the next?”
“Just lucky, I guess.” He shrugged. “Sasha said the kids are all situated.”
“You have one hell of a wife, Yoni.”
“Don’t I know it,” Yoni replied before disappearing.
Laney’s eyes strayed back to the open desk drawer. She knew she should get back to trying to find some clue about the missing kids. She could review the files again; maybe something would pop this time.
Yet she found herself reaching into the drawer and pulling the printout onto her lap.
On the front page, in a twelve-point Times New Roman font, were printed the words “The Army of the Belial.” Nothing more. All very normal-looking. But underneath that front cover was the translation of a book that dated back to before 10,000 BCE. And if they were right, that book foretold the end of the world.
Or at least the attempt to end the world. Apparently I keep that from happening somehow.
Laney shook her head, thinking of everything that had happened in the attempt to get this book. An incredible number of lives had been lost between the time they first found it in an ancient collection down in Ecuador to the time they defeated Amar and his minions in Tennessee and recovered this book from amid the ruins.
An image of Rocky drifted through her mind. One of her best friends had given her life to save Laney—the ring bearer destined to save the world.
Her heart clutched at the thought. “God help us all,” she mumbled.
Cleo unwound herself from her spot and glanced at Laney.
I’m okay, girl. Cleo looked at her for a long moment before placing her head back down.
Laney had taken Cleo out of the cage before heading back to the office. She knew she’d have to put Cleo back in her cage before dinner; even though Cleo wouldn’t hurt any of the new kids, her size was enough to make even a grown man blink. But Laney wanted to keep her out as long as possible. Cleo wasn’t a big fan of being locked up.
Laney flipped through the first few pages of the printout. By now, she had the entire manuscript practically memorized. She passed the description of how the angels fell. She barely scanned the section on the angel’s reincarnations—how they didn’t know who they were early on, how that awareness only came later.
She moved on to the section that they didn’t have a name for. The one labeled with only a symbol: two entangled triangles. This was the section she had been obsessed with ever since Henry had given her the translation. It described the rise of the triads—both of them.
In a time when all members of the triad exist, the world shall be in great peril.
The words still struck fear in her. But they weren’t the words that replayed time and again in her mind. That honor belonged to the last two lines on the page:
When the triads intersect, the time of judgment is at hand. The choice of sacrifice or death will be made.
Laney stared at the words, willing herself to understand. Who was judging? Who chose the sacrifice?
She clutched at the ring on the chain around her neck. Was choosing the sacrifice her job as the ring bearer? Because she wasn’t sure she could sacrifice one more person she cared about.
Maybe you are the sacrifice, a voice whispered in the back of her mind.
That was the thought that kept her up late at night. Because isn’t that what always happened to the hero in the ancient tales? They sacrificed themselves to save the many? And whether she liked it or not, she seemed to be cast in that role.
Another thought struck her. What if the missing kids are part of this sacrifice?
“You know, I don’t think those words are going to change if you stare at them for the three hundredth time.”
She looked up in surprise. Her uncle, Father Patrick Delaney, leaned against the doorframe. She quietly placed the printout back in the drawer and shut it with her foot.
She placed what she hoped was an innocent expression on her face as she looked up into his knowing eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Haven’t you heard the old saying, ‘The three hundredth time’s the charm’?”
Patrick chuckled as he took a seat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. Cleo padded over to say hello, placing her head in Patrick’s lap. Patrick gave her a good rub behind the ears. “Hello, sweetheart.” Satisfied with her greeting, Cleo retreated back to her corner.
Patrick turned his attention to Laney. “The burden of what’s to come isn’t on only your shoulders.”
She sighed. So much for my poker face. “You know that’s probably not true.”
“Only if you let it be. Henry and Jake are here for you. And even though I’m not part of the triangle, I’m here for you too. Jen and Victoria as well.”
<
br /> Laney felt herself stiffen at Victoria’s name. “Oh, Victoria’s here for me, is she?”
Patrick sighed. “Laney.” He drew out her name.
Laney felt a small ball of resentment curl up in her chest. Somehow, whenever the topic of Victoria came up, Laney and Patrick seemed to be on opposite sides. And it hurt. If anything, the news that Laney was the biological daughter of Victoria Chandler should have driven a wedge between Patrick and Victoria. But instead, that knowledge had turned Patrick into Victoria’s strongest defender.
Laney supposed the relationship between her and Victoria had been improving over the last few months. They’d seen each other a few times and talked on the phone every few days.
But no matter how much effort Laney put into the relationship, there was always one huge sticking point that kept her from getting any closer: Victoria refused to talk about how she saved Jake’s life in Saqqara, Egypt.
The image of Jake, his deep brown eyes staring up at nothing, his dark hair contrasting sharply with the sandy ground… It was an image that would always be with Laney. And so whenever she was with Victoria, she had a really difficult time talking around the elephant in the room.
Laney put up her hand. “Look, let’s not go there. I know you think she has a good reason—”
“Laney, she’s helping all of us. She trying to figure out who the members of the other triad—”
“I know, I know. I just wish she wasn’t quite so wrapped in mysteries.”
Patrick looked at her for a long moment before pulling his chair around the desk and turning her chair so she was facing him.
“You know, I never talk about Vietnam,” he said.
Laney squeezed his hand. He had been a Marine before joining the priesthood. In fact, Laney was pretty sure that it was the things he’d done and seen in Vietnam that had pushed him toward the priesthood. “I know. It was a difficult time. You don’t have to—”
He squeezed her hand back. “Yes. It was a difficult time. Just as the time with your uncle was difficult for you, which is why you don’t talk about it.”