The Belial Sacrifice (The Belial Series Book 14)

by R. D. Brady

  She stopped in front of the Oteros. “You must the Oteros. I’m Gina Carstairs. I’ll show you guys where you’ll be staying and help you get the lay of the land. This is Wendy. She’ll take you down to your place, and I’ll be right behind you.” Gina nodded to the small woman with light brown hair and a welcoming smile next to her.

  Mateo got to his feet, holding out his hand for Mariana, who took it, but she still looked like she was in shock. Numbly, they followed Wendy. Gabriella looked back at Laney with a giant grin and waved.

  Laney waved back.

  “So everything go all right?” Gina asked.

  Laney shrugged. “The usual.”

  Gina laughed. “One day I’d like to come see what ‘the usual’ involves.”

  “You’re welcome anytime, Major. How are things here?”

  “Good. We just got a supply shipment before you arrived, so we’re stocked up.”

  “Oh.” Laney picked up the basket. “Luiz sent some baskets of chirimoya.”

  Gina picked a chirimoya from the basket, bringing it to her nose and inhaling deeply. “I have never laid eyes on this man, but I would happily marry him sight unseen if he provides me with these for the rest of my life.”

  Danny walked up, munching on his own chirimoya. “Hey, Gina. I checked on your case while I was out. You’re still being accused. I’m sorry.”

  Gina blew out a breath. “Can’t say I wasn’t hoping things had changed. Not that I don’t love living in an alternate dimension.”

  “Hey, I get it.”

  “Well, thanks for checking.”

  “No problem.”

  “Well, I think I’ll go see how the Oteros are doing. I think Mariana might need a little help adjusting to her new reality.” Gina wiggled her eyebrows before heading down the path.

  Laney watched the Marine Corps psychiatrist head down the hill. She hadn’t been sure how Gina was going to fit in here, but the woman could organize anyone and anything. She’d slowly become completely indispensable.

  Drake appeared through the portal with Jen.

  Laney narrowed her eyes, walking over to her. “Why on earth were you on lookout duty?”

  “Because I am going stir crazy, and I am past the first trimester. Doc said I’m good.”

  Laney glanced down at the small bump that held her soon-to-be niece or nephew. “Just be careful. You’ve got precious cargo there.”

  “I know. But there is zero chance I’m going to stay bedridden for the next five months.” Jen placed her hands over her stomach. “I’m perfectly healthy, and so is she or he. Besides, aren’t you the one running off risking life and limb all the time? Shouldn’t I be worried about you?”

  “Fine, fine. We’ll both worry about each other.” Laney linked her arm through Jen’s. “So tell me, what have I missed?”

  “Not much. We got another twelve requests for aid.”

  “Okay. I’ll—”

  Drake dropped an arm on her shoulders. “Get some rest. There is always going to be people needing help. And there are plenty of us to help them. You need to sleep. The world will keep turning.”

  Jen looked at Laney with concern. “He’s right. You need to take care of yourself too.”

  “Fine, fine. I’ll sleep for a little bit,” Laney said, already fighting back a yawn.

  Drake smiled. “Good. After all, what can happen in just a few hours?”

  Jen and Laney stopped walking, turning toward him. “I cannot believe you just said that,” Laney said.

  “Seriously, why not just walk under a ladder or break a mirror?” Jen demanded.

  Drake looked between the two of them. “You two can’t be serious.”

  Laney shook her head. “We live in a different dimension—”

  “Same dimension, just vibrating differently,” Danny yelled over.

  Laney rolled her eyes. “Whatever, we live in a magical cave. I’m the ring bearer, you’re an archangel, and Jen here is a Nephilim. The world governments are trying to find a formula that will allow them to create enhanced human beings like us. Half the history we learned in school isn’t true, and I’m about to go sleep in a house my boyfriend created out of thin air four months ago. And you think jinxing us is impossible?”

  Drake put up his hands. “Okay, okay. No more jinxing comments. But seriously, how much damage—”

  Laney covered Drake’s mouth with her hand. “You need to stop talking.”

  Chapter 8

  Washington, D.C.

  President Margaret Rigley scanned the report on her desk. It held the latest numbers from the Committee of Enhanced Individuals (CEI) retrieval force. They had twenty-two individuals in custody. Five had abilities, and the remaining seventeen did not, although they were related to enhanced individuals.

  After the debacle at the Chandler Estate, the CEI had been the focus of intense media scrutiny. Unpopular as it was, Rigley had followed up her initial executive order on the Fallen with a second allowing the temporary detention of any individuals biologically related to a suspected enhanced individual. Half the country hated her for the act and half the country loved her for it. Politically, she knew if a Fallen attacked someone, the media would be all over her for not enacting stricter reform.

  And as strict as some argued her policies were, they were practically a liberal dream compared to some other countries. More than one country had death squads that targeted Fallen and their families. Mass graves were the only indication that the squads were at work. Of course, the countries in question denied that they sanctioned such violent actions. Intelligence indicated otherwise.

  A knock sounded at the Oval’s door. “Come in,” Margaret called.

  The door opened. A man who looked like an accountant stepped in. He smiled, making his way to the President’s desk. He inclined his head. “Madame President.”

  Rigley put down her pen and studied Bruce Heller, the deputy director of the CIA. Bruce had already been on the job for close to thirty years when Margaret had taken the oath of office. She’d known him now for six years, and she still did not have any idea what made the man tick. She had never met someone who gave away so little of what he was thinking. It made him excellent at his job but made Margaret’s job difficult when it came to figuring out exactly what Bruce’s opinion on the Fallen issue was. When asked, he simply said his job was to enact the laws and wishes of the United States of America. A perfectly acceptable answer that told Margaret absolutely nothing.

  She gestured to one of the seats in front of her desk. “Take a seat, Bruce.”

  Bruce smiled as he did so. “Thank you, Madame President.”

  “Any progress on finding Delaney McPhearson?”

  Bruce shook his head. “No. We have video of her indicating she was in Bogota twenty-four hours ago. But law enforcement there was unable to apprehend her.”

  “How did she avoid them this time?”

  “Two semitrucks dropped from about ten stories up.”

  The President’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I am not.”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “Only property damage.”

  “And I take it whoever she was kidnapping has not been seen since?”

  Bruce raised an eyebrow, and she knew it was at her choice of words. “That is true. It was a family: mother, father, son, and daughter.”

  The President grunted. Yet again, Delaney McPhearson had popped her head out of her hole, grabbed a group of people, and disappeared.

  “They were Fallen?”

  “Unconfirmed. Neither of the parents, nor either of the children had ever demonstrated any abilities, although they were considered people of interest by the Colombian government.”

  The President looked out the window. She could admit that Delaney McPhearson had saved her life not that long ago, along with just about everyone on the planet’s. And perhaps the President could have played the situation better. But they were where they were. And the truth of the m
atter was, Delaney McPhearson was a threat to everyone on the planet. If she decided to take power, there would be very few who could stand against her. The governments of the world would have to work in concert to guarantee success. And the likelihood of that was lower than the likelihood of Delaney McPhearson turning herself and everyone she was hiding with in to the U.S. government.

  With that much pressure on her, you’d think she’d lay low. But no. A few days ago, she’d been in Norway. Before that, Kenya. Two weeks ago, Japan, followed by California. And each of those sightings was verified. There were dozens of sightings of her all over the world. For a woman who was supposedly in hiding from the governments of the world, she was doing an awful lot of globe-hopping. Which brought her to her next question. “Any luck on figuring out how she is managing to find these people?”

  “Each of the people was on a government watch list. They were all at least suspected to be Fallen by their respective governments. Each had just been added to the list. The case in Colombia is no different. I suspect either there are spyware inside the computers of the world—”

  “Could that genius, Wartowski, could he do that?”

  Bruce nodded. “He would be capable of it. But it would require almost an entire legion of hackers to make that work. That seems like a rather big operation. We’ve found no indications of that so far.”

  “So what’s the other option?”

  “I think it’s more likely a network of Fallen who have connected somehow. They warn each other, look out for each other—”

  “They’re organizing?”

  “Not the way Samyaza had them organized. Each of the people that McPhearson has disappeared with, they’ve never been in any trouble. Never shown their abilities. I think it’s more analogous to a network that hides domestic-abuse victims than a gathering of individuals to do harm.”

  Rigley’s eyebrows rose. “You think they’re victims?”

  “That’s not what I said. I said their network is more analogous to that type of network.”

  “Do you have any proof of that?”

  “Nothing concrete, but there are some similarities in the backgrounds of some of the disappeared. For example, a neighbor of the family that disappeared in California said the father had started attending meetings for single fathers. But when we went to check out the meeting, the entire group had disappeared. All traces of them were gone. There was a similar report about a family in Wisconsin.”

  “Very well. Let me know as soon as you have something. Now, what about the Omni? Are any countries getting close?”

  Bruce shook his head. “No. Everyone is stuck at the same point. It is fair to say that most of the countries of the world currently have a sample of blood from a Fallen. However, none have been able to identify anything different about their blood compared to a non-enhanced individual.”

  “How sure are you of that?”

  Bruce met her gaze. “Very.”

  The President blew out a breath. While it was good no one had made any gains, it didn’t change the fact that they didn’t either. There had to be a way to create these abilities. Elisabeta had told them it was possible and that McPhearson knew how. If Delaney McPhearson were a true American, she would gladly tell them what they wanted to know. Instead, she’d run off, taking that knowledge with her.

  Bruce’s phone beeped. He stood. “Excuse me, Madame President. I need to take this.” Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the other side of the room, keeping his voice low.

  Irritation flashed through her, but logic overrode it. Bruce was not a disrespectful man. If he needed to take a call, it was no doubt important. Even knowing that was the case, she flitted a nasty look in his direction.

  Bruce disconnected the call and strode over to her. “My apologies, Madame President. I was waiting on confirmation before I brought something to your attention.”

  “And you have it?”

  He nodded, not retaking his seat. “A former Russian general, Sergei Yanovich, has extended an invitation to us. He claims to have the formula for the Omni.”

  The President straightened in her chair. “Is it true?”

  “I cannot say for certain but he was the individual who we believe helped Elisabeta in Calevitnia. We, along with our allies, have been actively trying to find him ever since Elisabeta’s death.”

  “What are the chances he has the formula?”

  “I am not a betting man. But if I was, I would bet he has it. Yanovich has a track record of gleaning information from the people he works for. Most people view him as an old war dog, but he is an impressive hacker in his own right. If Elisabeta underestimated him, I believe there is a good chance that he does in fact have the formula.”

  “What does he want?”

  “Money.”

  The President nodded. “How unoriginal. How much?”

  “That is to be determined. You see, he has not extended us the invitation exclusively.”

  The President narrowed her eyes. “What exactly is the invitation for?”

  “He has invited us to participate in an auction. The winner gets the formula to the Omni.”

  Chapter 9

  Havenville

  Laney walked slowly through the fog. She knew she was in a dream, and yet it felt so very real.

  “Laney.”

  She turned her gaze, focusing on the figure approaching her through the fog. “Noriko? What’s going on?”

  Noriko was Jen’s half sister. She had a similar ability to communicate with the animals, but she also had one other ability: the gift of prophesy. Or curse, depending on the vision.

  Noriko took her hand. “There’s something you need to see. I wasn’t sure if this would work. It’s the first time I’ve brought someone in.”

  “This is where you go when you have visions.”

  “This is usually where they start.”

  Laney looked around, the fog causing goose bumps to rise along her skin. The air felt damp and cold with a scent of decay in the air. Noriko was quiet, almost shy. But if she faced this place again and again, there was obviously a core of steel underneath that quiet exterior.

  Noriko took Laney’s hand. “We have to hurry. I’m not sure how long I can keep you here.”

  Noriko’s grip was strong as she led Laney through the fog. At first there was nothing, just fog in all directions. But then a light began to glow ahead. Noriko headed toward it. Through the fog, Laney began to see shapes, people. It looked like daylight. Without hesitating, Noriko aimed for it, stepping from the fog and into a small street.

  Laney’s mouth fell open. Ahead of her was a church. She would describe it as old, but it looked like it had been constructed within the last few years. On either side of the church were simple wooden buildings, most with long wooden porches and railings where horses were tied up. A dirt street ran along the ground in front of them.

  A man stepped from a building next to the church. He glanced along the street. Laney tensed, but his gaze slid right past them. He can’t see us.

  “This way.” Noriko tugged Laney to the right. “We need to walk a bit.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Salem.”

  Laney didn’t have time to ask any questions as Noriko picked up her pace. She slipped through an alley, making her way to the stable located just off the end of it. Noriko glanced at Laney and then slipped through the door. Laney hesitated for only a second before following.

  Two women were inside. One had a head full of white hair and a plump body hidden beneath a dark black dress. The other woman was much younger, and by the state of her dress, obviously not wealthy.

  Sarah Goode. The name slipped into Laney’s mind. She was the head of the Followers in Salem. She died during the Salem Witch Trials after . . .

  Laney’s gaze strayed to the woman’s stomach where the beginning of a baby bump could be seen.

  Sarah paced across the space, a lazy mare watching her from over the stall door. “Are you sure, Rebecca?”r />
  “Yes. They are sending a magistrate. We must take care.”

  Sarah nodded. “We will. But it is written. You know that.”

  “I know, but perhaps if we could— Sarah?”

  Laney’s gaze flew to Sarah, who had gone still, then her whole body began to shake.

  Rebecca hurried forward, catching Sarah as she began to fall. Laney lurched forward, but Noriko held her back. “You cannot help her.”

  With great difficulty, Rebecca helped Sarah to the floor. Her eyes closed, Sarah shook and trembled for what felt like forever, but it was likely only a minute. And then she went still. Laney knelt down in front of her, wishing she could do something to ease the woman’s pain.

  Sarah’s eyes flew open. Laney reared back at the suddenness of the action. There was no confusion in Sarah’s eyes, no sign of pain. She pierced Laney with a look. “You must find the weapon. It is the only way to defeat them.”

  Rebecca frowned. “Sarah, what are you saying?”

  But Laney knew the words weren’t for Rebecca.

  Noriko said no one could see them in this time, but Sarah was looking right at her. “What weapon?”

  “Look to the book. You must look to the book. Sacrifice and death will lead you, and sacrifice and death will follow. Blood will lead the way.”

  Sarah’s body arched, and she cried out. Laney felt herself flung backward into the fog before she slammed down. Her eyes flew open. She was back in her bedroom, sitting upright in her bed. Her breath came out in pants as she looked around wildly.

  What was that?

  She was tempted to write it off as a highly vivid dream, except she could still feel Noriko’s hand in hers. Noriko had wanted her to see that. Sarah had wanted her to hear her words. But what did they mean?

  Drake lay sleeping quietly beside her. She placed a hand on his chest, needing his warmth. Cleo lay on the large cushion next to the bed, not stirring either. Sarah Goode—she had been the head of the American Followers. She had been put to death during the Salem Witch Trials, and her daughter had been tortured to try to get Sarah to confess. Her other daughter had died during childbirth. So much pain in one woman’s life.