The Belial Children

by R. D. Brady

  Mu. Ah, the other legendary city. According to numerous sources, including Edgar Cayce, Atlantis was not the only highly advanced ancient civilization. While Atlantis was off the east coast of North America, Mu was alleged to be off the west coast. Allegedly Mu was destroyed around the same time that Atlantis was. But unlike the inhabitants of Atlantis, the citizens of Mu fled to… Oh, wait a minute. I should probably keep that to myself. I think it may show up in a different book. :)

  Quotes. The quotes attributed to the Bible found in The Belial Children are actual quotes. There are different versions of the Bible, which word things slightly differently. So if you are reading a quote and it seems a bit off from what you recall, that may be why.

  The quotes attributed to the book The Army of the Belial are of course my creation.

  Edgar Cayce and Psychic Abilities. When Edgar Cayce was a child, he was reported to have spoken with ghosts. Some were nice and some were not. In fact, psychic ability seems to have run in the Cayce family.

  There are other researchers who argue that when children are young they are more likely to see and hear spirits. Is that true? I don’t know. But personally, I’ve seen a few incidents involving children that suggest it might be.

  Church of Bones. There are churches that are decorated in bones. They are called ossuaries. And as mentioned in the book, the macabre creations are usually created due to an overabundance of bones. If you are interested in checking one out, Google the Sedlec Ossuary.

  Doomsday Cults and “End of Days” Religions. Alas, these exist too. Most are harmless, more of a preparation for the end of days than any active attempt to bring it around. But every once in a while a group like Heaven’s Gate shows up.

  Heaven’s Gate was a real end of days cult. All of the information in the novel is accurate about the group. The leader Applewhite did indeed convince his followers that by committing suicide they would be in essence beamed aboard a spacecraft waiting for them out in space.

  Subduing Someone with Chapstick. Thought I’d just throw this one in for fun. Yes, there are ways to subdue an individual with Chapstick, or a quarter, or any other small little object. Generally it involves a finger or pressure points. It takes little to no force and is highly effective. Go ahead, Google it; you know you want to. :)

  Thank you for reading The Belial Children. I hope you enjoyed it. If you get a chance, please leave a review.

  Until next time,

  R.D.

  P.S. Oh, and one more thing: keep reading for a sneak peek of the next book, The Belial Origins.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  There are a lot of great people who helped make The Belial Children a reality. First and foremost, I’d like to thank all the special critters who have read and re-read multiple drafts of this work. Every week, you helped me iron out the mistakes and find a better way to explain my ideas. I am forever grateful.

  I’d also like to thank my group of beta readers, who helped make this version of The Belial Children a much better copy. Thank you for reading. And thank you for all your work.

  Thanks to my family and friends who have supported my efforts along the way.

  Thank you to the people who helped with the editing and cover design. To the great team at Damonza, thank you for your excellent cover designs. You delight me every time. And a special thank-you to David Gatewood for all the time you put in. I am extremely grateful that I found such an incredible editor.

  Thanks to my favorite beta reader, Elizabeth McCartan, for all your work and your support.

  To my three little ones who constantly ask me how my books are doing and whether they’re done yet—and who have started writing books of your own—thank you for your smiles, your hugs, and your love. You make each day that much better.

  Thank you to my husband Tae. When I started this new career, unbeknownst to me my husband began planning for how we would financially survive when the writing thing didn’t work out, or at least took a while to take off. But he didn’t say a word beyond words of support. Thank you for always being in my corner and supporting my dreams.

  Special thanks to Dave Owens. Dave has been a mentor and friend for over a decade. One weekend we were taking a group of students to meet some retired FBI profilers. On the long bus ride, Dave said I should write a book because of all my knowledge about crime. I had never seriously considered it before then. Oh, I had made up stories in my head during my twelve-hour drives home from graduate school, and I had often daydreamed in class about armed gunmen invading my high school and me handily escaping via the air ducts. But until the conversation with Dave, I never seriously considered writing. That, however, was the day when the seed was planted. And it finally took root a few years back. So thank you, Dave, for being my friend and opening up a whole new world to me.

  Thank you to the Syracuse Martial Arts Academy—my second family. You offer me support and friendship in my real life and great ideas for fight scenes in my professional life. And a special sorry to Jason Wallace for all those “unintentional” hits.

  Thank you to Katy Meyers for answering my bone questions.

  Thank you to all you readers. I still pinch myself when I realize that I am a writer and that people are actually enjoying my books. It is mind-blowing to me. I try to write back to everyone who drops me a note and say thank you for taking the time to write. But right now I’d like to take the opportunity to thank all of you for taking the time to read. This has been an incredible journey for me, and it’s wonderful to know there are other people who are just as concerned about Laney, Henry, Jake, Patrick, and everyone else as much as I am.

  And finally, thank you for your patience in learning about Victoria. There was some groundwork that I needed to lay before her identity was revealed. And yes, you will find out who she is in the next book. Flip to the next page to read an excerpt from The Belial Origins, coming this spring.

  Excerpt from

  The

  Belial Origins

  Available May 2015

  PROLOGUE

  Forty-Eight Years Ago

  Springfield, Illinois

  The images swirled through her mind: violence, despair, and death. Twelve-year-old Emma Riley sat straight up in bed, grasping for something in the empty air.

  “Em?” her sister Vicki, age fourteen, asked from the other bed. “You okay?”

  Emma’s eyes flew open, staring in shock at her room. Her favorite puppy picture was on the wall. Her side of the room was painted pink, her sister’s in purple.

  It’s my room, she told herself. I live here. But her pounding heart was taking a while to convince, still feeling the effects of the latest nightmare.

  “Em?” Vicki asked again.

  “I’m okay.” Emma sat up, leaning against the headboard as her breaths came out in pants. She glanced over at her sister. They shared the same bright red hair and blue eyes, although Emma’s were so dark they were almost purple. And even though they were fourteen months apart, people often mistook them for twins.

  Vicki hesitated for only a moment before climbing out of her bed and into Emma’s. She put her arms around her sister. “They’re only dreams,” she said softly.

  Emma nodded into her sister’s shoulder, but the fear and horror of the dreams wouldn’t let go. She was in a city that was burning. And she and a friend, a tall man who couldn’t speak, were trapped by a group of men.

  Vicki kept her arms wrapped around Emma’s shoulders. “Hey. There’s no unhappiness today. Today is party day!” She wiggled in bed, her movements forcing Emma to wiggle as well. Then she crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

  Emma laughed, her sister’s antics pushing away the darkness in her chest. “Please tell me you’re not going to do that in front of my friends.”

  “Oh, I am so going to do that.” Vicki hopped off the bed. “I’m also going to do my signature moves.”

  Vicki thrust out a hip and kicked out the opposite leg while throwing her hands in the air. Her ringlet hair flew in e
very direction as she moved. She looked like she was having a seizure.

  A laugh burst from Emma. “Please, please, I beg of you. Not the signature dance moves. They all know we’re related. I’ll never survive the embarrassment.”

  Vicki flopped back down on her bed. “Well, as my birthday gift to you, I will refrain from my incredible moves.”

  Emma grinned, not for the first time grateful that she had Vicki for a sister. All her friends who had sisters complained about them all the time. But not Emma; Vicki was her best friend. They were attached at the hip and had been since Emma was born.

  Vicki stood up again, her blue eyes shining. Then she reached down and pulled on Emma’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and get this party on the road!”

  That night, when Emma fell back into bed again, she was exhausted. Exhausted and happy. Her mom and sister had outdone themselves decorating the yard. Balloons and streamers had been everywhere. Her dad had even hired a band and set up a giant tent.

  And Chris Rosen had asked her to dance—twice. She hugged her pillow to her and wiggled with excitement. This was without a doubt the best birthday of her life.

  When she closed her eyes, happiness settled warmly in her chest, and she drifted off to sleep.

  The sun was barely up when her eyes popped open. She stared at the ceiling. No. No. It can’t be true.

  But deep in her heart, she knew it was.

  One bed over, Vicki murmured and rolled over in her sleep. Emma watched her sister, her heart aching. I can’t do this. I can’t leave Vicki.

  But she remembered all the times she had avoided the call. And all the deaths that had followed.

  Shaking, she climbed out of bed and quietly packed some clothes in her backpack. She pulled her stuffed bunny from the bed. She’d had him since she was two; she couldn’t leave him behind. She stuffed him in the bag, but kept his face out as she zipped it up.

  After placing her bag quietly in the hall, she walked over to her sister’s bed and knelt down. “Thank you for being my sister. I will never forget you,” she whispered, then placed a trembling kiss on Vicki’s cheek.

  She watched her sister sleep, memorizing her face, then fled from the room before the sobs burst from her chest. Grabbing her bag, she crept down the hall, pausing by her parents’ door. They were both still sleeping.

  She wanted to run in there, hop in between them, and tell them everything. They would tell her that these were just dreams. They would tell her that everything would be all right. They’d tell her she didn’t have to do this—that it was their job to be the adults and hers to be the kid.

  But she knew the truth. Her childhood was over.

  Her legs shook as she made her way down the stairs.

  Her golden retriever Rex sat at the bottom of the stairs wagging his tail. As Emma looked into his big brown eyes, she nearly lost it then and there. She sank down next to him and buried her head in his fur, throwing her arms around his neck.

  “I’m going to miss you so much,” she said, glad she could say the words out loud. Rex couldn’t make it up the stairs anymore because of his hips. Emma usually slept downstairs a few nights a week to keep him company.

  Finally pulling away, Emma stood, walked to the back door, and opened it.

  Rex looked at her and sat instead of running outside.

  “Come on, Rex. This is hard enough. Go.”

  He hesitated before nature overrode his concern.

  She watched him make his way slowly down the steps. Then she walked to the counter and pulled over the phone message pad. She pulled off a sheet of paper and wrote:

  I love you all. But it’s time for me to leave. Don’t look for me. You won’t find me. I’m not hurt. No one is making me leave. I made this choice a long time ago.

  She paused, knowing they wouldn’t understand that last line. Then she added:

  I love you so much. Believe that.

  Love, Emma

  A whine sounded from behind her. Rex stared at her through the screen, his tail wagging. She opened the door and let him in. She wanted more than anything to take him with her, but at age fifteen, he was having trouble walking. He would slow her down, and she needed to move fast.

  She sat down, and Rex immediately sat next to her, placing his paw on her thigh. She rubbed behind his ears. “They don’t give you enough credit, do they? You know something’s up.”

  Emma glanced at the clock. She was taking too long, and this was just making it harder. With a shuddering breath, she trailed one finger between Rex’s eyes, “Sleep, my friend.”

  Rex’s eyes immediately closed and his legs gave out. Emma caught him and gently lowered him to the ground. She rubbed his belly. “I’ll miss you, too, Rex.”

  Then she stood, swiped at the tears that ran down her cheeks, and slung her backpack over her shoulders, pulling the straps tight. Without looking back, she strode to the front door, pulled it open, slipped outside, and quietly pulled it shut behind her.

  Not giving herself time to think, she ran to the side of the garage and grabbed her bike. She pedaled furiously out of the drive and didn’t slow down until she was eight blocks away, at the pay phone next to the fruit stand. Hopping from the bike, she picked up the receiver and rang the operator. “Collect call,” she said when the operator answered.

  She rattled off the number and then waited while the phone rang.

  A man picked up, his voice gruff. It was two hours earlier in California.

  “Collect call from Lazarus. Do you accept the charges?”

  “Uh…” The man paused, obviously shocked. But he recovered quickly. “Yes. Yes. Of course.”

  “Thank you,” the operator said before clicking off.

  “Mr. Draper,” Emma said.

  “Um, yes. Miss Smith?”

  Emma let out a breath. He remembered. She had chosen him because she had been assured he would, even years later. But still, it was always a gamble. Of course, if he hadn’t remembered, she had other numbers and other people who were paid well to remember her when she called. “Yes. I’ll need transportation immediately, as well as IDs.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Springfield, Illinois.” She rattled off the address.

  “Give me the number of the phone you’re at.”

  She did.

  “Give me five minutes.” He hung up.

  Emma paced by the phone. Time seemed to crawl by. She kept expecting her parents to roar into the parking lot and demand to know what was going on.

  “Come on,” she urged, staring at the phone. Finally it rang. She snatched it up. “Yes?”

  “I have a car on the way to you. It’ll be there in ten minutes. It’ll take you to an airfield. I’ve chartered a plane, and it will be waiting for you.”

  Emma nodded. If he was surprised that a young girl was calling, he didn’t let it show. He was as good as she had hoped. Of course, for the amount of money he was being paid, he should be.

  “Good,” she said. “I’ll give the pilot directions when I’m on board. I’ll also need some spending cash. About five thousand should be good for now, until I get to a bank. And I’ll need credit cards.”

  “Yes, ma’am. And the name for the new IDs?”

  Emma hesitated, picturing her sister doing her goofy dance. An ache pierced through her, threatening to drop her to the ground.

  “Victoria,” she said softly. “My name is Victoria.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  R.D. Brady is a criminologist who lives in upstate New York. When she’s not writing, she can be found studying Jeet Kune Do, reading, or trying to find more hours in the day.

  For more information on R.D., her upcoming publications, or what she’s currently reading, check out her blog: http://desperateforagoodbook.com. There’s a sign-up on her website if you are interested in being notified about upcoming publications. Or send her an email (rdbradywriter@gmail.com). She’d love to hear from you.

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