by R. D. Brady
“Well, she’s been studying all of it much longer than we have. We’ve only known about the Fallen for a year. She is convincing, though, isn’t she?”
Laney nodded.
He glanced over at her. “In your dream about Menelik, were you seeing the dream through his eyes?”
“No. The dream wasn’t from Menelik’s point of view. It was from Makeda’s.”
Patrick looked at Laney sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Your dreams—are they always from a woman’s point of view?”
Laney thought back and realized with surprise they were. “Yes.”
Patrick stroked his chin, his expression troubled.
“What is it? You look worried.”
“I’m probably wrong,” he began, and Laney felt a chill. The last time he said that, he’d been talking about his interpretation of Drew’s paper on Atlantis. And he’d been right on the money.
Laney tried to keep her tone light. “Okay. You might be wrong. But tell me anyway.”
Patrick hesitated. “These dreams you’re having. I wonder if they’re not dreams at all.”
“Not dreams? Then what are they?”
“Memories.”
CHAPTER 42
“Memories? Are you kidding?” Laney struggled not to groan. Seriously, she was at her tipping point for revelations.
Patrick put up his hands. “Just hear me out. All of this started because of Edgar Cayce’s life readings on Atlantis, right?”
Laney nodded. A year ago, her friend Drew Masters had written a preliminary paper involving Cayce to pave the way for an archaeological dig he was working on. Drew’s involvement in the dig resulted in his death by a Fallen. That loss still cut deep.
Laney shoved those feelings aside, focusing instead on what they had learned about the twentieth-century psychic Edgar Cayce.
According to Cayce, most people had lived multiple past lives. Over the course of his own life, Cayce performed numerous past life readings for people; and many of those past life readings involved the lives people lived in Atlantis.
Through his work, Cayce realized that humans had evolved on this planet as thought forms before taking bodies. These early humans had lived in complete peace, without violence or strife. Eventually, though, people had evolved into two groups: the Children of the Law of One, and the Sons of Belial. The good and the bad.
And although not mentioned in Cayce’s work, Laney realized from reading the Book of Enoch that it was the fallen angels who were responsible for that division. They brought with them envy, strife, violence, and war. The Sons of Belial were eventually responsible for the destruction of Atlantis.
In his readings, Cayce said the Children, knowing the Sons would be their destruction, had sent three sets of emissaries to three separate locations across the globe, to hide the knowledge of Atlantis, save it from annihilation. One of those locations was the site Drew worked on. Laney found the other in Ecuador last year. And the third was still lost—although it was rumored to be located under the left paw of the Sphinx.
“Yes, Cayce’s work is where all of this sprang from,” Laney said. “But I don’t think Cayce meant that you came back each lifetime as the exact same person, with the same goals, hobbies, and desires.”
“I don’t know about that. There have been readings that suggest that people come back very similar in each lifetime, right down to their career. Henry Ford, for example, was alleged to have been an inventor in Atlantis.”
“So you think the subjects of my dreams are actually—what? My ancestors? Predecessors? Former selves? What am I supposed to call them?”
Patrick took her hand. “I think they might be you, in a past life.”
Laney knew her jaw was hanging open, but she couldn’t seem to close it. “You’re saying I was Helen of Troy, the Queen of Sheba, and Joan of Arc?”
“Is that really any crazier than being the daughter of a powerful angel?”
Laney snapped her mouth shut. She knew reincarnation was part of numerous belief systems across the world. The scientific research on reincarnation had also provided some incredible findings. She had read the case studies of children who seemed to be able to recount verifiable facts from their past lives. It was pretty convincing stuff.
In one set of studies, Dr. Ian Stevenson, of the University of Virginia, matched birthmarks with wounds received in a past life. All the cases had been medically documented.
And the list of highly intelligent individuals who supported the notion was quite astounding: Henry Ford, Mahatma Gandhi, Socrates, Napoleon, even Friedrich Nietzsche.
But recognizing the abstract possibility of reincarnation was one thing. Accepting that you yourself were the reincarnation of previous individuals, particularly historically important ones, was a little harder to accept.
“I mean, I guess it’s not any more unbelievable than anything else I’ve heard or seen this last year,” Laney said. “But these women we’re talking about, they were incredibly powerful. I mean, Helen and Joan were warriors, the leaders of armies. They changed the world.”
“You have that same strength, Laney. It’s built in you. It’s like that genetic research you told me about. You have this programmed into you. It just needs the right environment to bring it out.”
“And you think I’m going to find myself in that environment?”
Patrick squeezed her hand, standing up. “I think you already have. Look what you’ve done already. You saved Kati and Max, you uncovered that site in Montana, and then everything you did with the Shuar. And you’ve faced how many Fallen and nephilim at this point? And yet you’re still here. There’s something about you, Laney. Something special. We all see it. All of us but you.” He kissed her on the forehead before heading back down the path.
Laney watched him walk away. Was it possible she actually was this ring bearer? Her mind whirled with everything she had learned, with everything people believed her to be.
Before she knew it, it had grown late. Looking up, she was startled to see the sun had begun to dip below the horizon.
She stood up and stretched, an ache forming in her lower back from sitting on the iron bench for so long. She hurried up the hill, her stomach growling. She hoped she hadn’t missed Ralph’s dinner. She rounded the top of the hill and came to a stop.
Victoria was in the garden, a basket beside her, down on her hands and knees, weeding. It was such a domestic sight that Laney was startled. Victoria always seemed so powerful, so all-knowing. Seeing her do something so normal was actually jarring.
Victoria must have felt eyes on her. She sat back on her heels, her eyes finding Laney’s. She offered a tentative smile.
Laney gave a little wave and walked toward her, not knowing what to say. She had so many questions. She wasn’t sure which one should come first. What was her father like? Did Victoria regret giving her away?
But those questions were too personal, and Laney wasn’t sure she wanted the answers. Not yet, at least.
In fact, she really didn’t want to know anything more about her own past or her future. For now, she had more than enough to occupy her mind.
By the time Laney reached her, Victoria was standing next to a beautiful rose bush in full, pale pink bloom.
“It’s beautiful,” Laney said, and meant it. The flowers were huge, with over a hundred petals on each one.
“It’s a Scepter’d Isle. The name comes from—”
“Shakespeare, William the Second.”
Victoria’s eyes went wide. “How’d you know that?”
“There was a priest at the rectory who kept a rose garden. I used to garden with him sometimes. His roses were beautiful. They’re one of my favorite flowers.”
“I’ve always loved them, too.”
Silence descended between the two of them. And it was awkward. But Laney’s mind was a complete blank.
Victoria took a step toward her. “How about we take a little walk? I’m guessing you have some questions for me.”
; Laney nodded, falling in step next to Victoria. But instead of waiting for Laney to ask anything, Victoria started rattling off information about her garden. Laney was relieved. She still wasn’t sure what to say to her.
Victoria’s love for the garden came through with each word, and Laney was glad to have the focus be on something other than her. By the time they had walked for fifteen minutes, Laney was actually at ease. They came to stop at the land’s edge. Atop a tall cliff, the Atlantic Ocean spread out in front of them.
“It’s beautiful,” Laney said, and meant it. She breathed in deep, pulling in the peace of the scene.
“It’s why I bought this property. When all the world goes crazy, I come here and I can feel at peace.”
Laney nodded, understanding. She met Victoria’s eyes, and this time the smile came easily. “Thank you for showing it to me.”
A flash of emotion crossed Victoria’s face before she covered it. “You’re very welcome.” Victoria looked away. “We should probably get back. Ralph should have dinner about ready.”
Laney nodded, turning to walk back to the house. Her arm grazed Victoria’s, but Laney didn’t pull away.
They walked for a few moments in silence. Then Laney realized she did have a question for Victoria. Not something about herself or Victoria, but something that had been bothering her since she’d learned of the Fallen.
“Victoria, when Edgar Cayce talks of humanity’s beginnings, he says that at first we were all one group, no division. Then we split into two: the Children of the Law of One and the Sons of Belial. The good and the bad.”
“Yes. Cayce got that right.”
“Well, Cayce doesn’t mention the Fallen, but I figured they were the reason humanity split.”
Victoria nodded.
“Here’s what I don’t understand: why didn’t we split before then? We were human, and humans come with desires. Not all of them good. So why didn’t we act on those negative desires earlier?”
“Because there was no reason to.”
“But why not? People must have coveted, envied, had all those motivations to do bad.”
Victoria glanced at her, pausing before speaking. “How old was Enoch when he went to heaven?”
Laney wondered at the change in conversation. “Umm, three hundred fifty-six, I think.”
Victoria nodded. “Do you remember any other ages mentioned in the Bible?”
“I remember something about humanity only living for one hundred and twenty years.”
Victoria nodded with a smile. “Ah, yes. Genesis 6:3: Then the Lord said, ‘My Spirit will not contend with man forever, for he is mortal; his days will be a hundred and twenty years.’ But there are others mentioned: Noah, Adam, his son Seth, all lived for over nine hundred years. Others, too. Lemech is recorded as having lived for seven hundred seventy-seven years.”
Laney recalled some of those references. “I’ve heard that, but to be perfectly honest, I always figured it was either exaggeration on the part of the writer, a legend that grew as time went on, or just a mistake in translation.”
“It was none of those. In fact, those lifespans were short compared to early humans. In certain eastern cultures, individuals were alleged to have lived for thousands of years.”
“Thousands of years? But that can’t be right, can it?”
Laney knew Victoria’s references, at least, were correct. The Sumerian King list contained dozens of kings, some of who had reigns lasting thousands of years. She remembered one that was supposed to have reigned for thirty-six thousand years.
Laney shook her head. But wasn’t that supposed to be— She sighed. Actually, she had no idea what that was supposed to be. It was one of those archaeological facts that when you heard it, you said “Oh, okay” and didn’t think too deeply about—because there was simply no logical explanation for it.
Victoria nodded, a small smile on her face. “Oh, those records are correct. You see, originally, humans were practically immortal.”
CHAPTER 43
Laney stopped walking. “Wait, immortal immortal? As in lived forever?”
“Almost. There was no violence, no disease. People could, and did, live for thousands of years.”
Laney struggled to wrap her mind around the possibility.
“Think of all the great achievements of the far past. They were accomplished because people didn’t have short lifespans. Archaeologists can’t figure out Puma Punku or the Sphinx because they’re looking at it through mortal eyes. In the modern world, those accomplishments are unimaginable. You have maybe a few decades of critical thinking before your faculties begin to slow. But originally, mankind didn’t have that restriction. As a result, we had longer time periods to create, to think. The results were means and methods that, quite honestly, would be viewed as magic today.”
Laney stared at Victoria. Was that the answer? Was that how humans had managed these incredible constructions at a time when traditional science argued we were no more than stone tool users?
Victoria’s words left Laney feeling stunned. But even in that state of disbelief, she recalled reports of how some ancient sites were created. Puma Punku, the Luxor, and a bunch of others were created in areas where there were no trees to help roll these hundred-ton stones, no waterways to sail them down. So how did they do it?
Were incredible tales, like those of Merlin, true? Merlin was alleged to have used some form of telekinesis to erect Stonehenge, or magic that enabled him to turn the stones all but weightless. Even Solomon’s incredible temple was supposed to have been erected in one day. Were those ancient tales true accountings rather than fanciful notions?
“I know it’s a bit much to take in,” Victoria said with a smile. “But I think you’re beginning to realize that there’s more out there than humanity currently understands. Every generation thinks it is the epitome of civilization. Civilization has grown, and been destroyed, many times over. And knowledge has been lost to the sands of time, sometimes never to be uncovered again.”
Laney’s thoughts were tripping over one another. Yet somewhere down deep, what Victoria was saying rang true. She decided, though, to focus on the beginning of this conversation. “But how do long lifespans relate to the split of humanity?”
“Before the Fallen, there was no need for greed, for envy. We lived forever. Anything you wanted, you could one day achieve. Nothing was out of the realm of possibility.”
“How did that change?”
“With the Fallen came death, murder, human sacrifice even. And disease. They brought disease with them, like any conquering group. Human lifespans shortened dramatically. All of a sudden, you didn’t have forever to achieve what you wanted. You could be killed at any moment.”
Laney wondered at the argument but also at the way in which Victoria was telling it. It was as if she had been there.
“And the Fallen? Why did they fall?” Laney asked.
“They wanted humans’ freedom, our luxury of free will.”
“All of them wanted it?”
Victoria smiled. “You’re wondering how some could be good if they all chose to fall?”
Laney nodded.
“They had a very convincing leader.”
“Samyaza.”
Victoria nodded. “You met Azazyel. He was the warrior, but Samyaza was the general. He was the strategist. He recognized the weaknesses in humans and sent his troops to exploit them. And he was good at it. Machiavelli would have liked him. He made it appear that he was helping humans reach their own goals, when they were really working for him.”
The description sounded chillingly familiar. “Like Satan. Tempting people into evil.”
Victoria stopped walking. She looked Laney in the eye. “Satan, the red monster with a pitchfork and horns, is a literary device used to scare humans into behaving. But Samyaza was the real thing. He was the devil. And I’m guessing he still is.”
CHAPTER 44
Johnson City, Tennessee
Amar crouched do
wn low on the branch, not moving. He scanned the area, his breath held, muscles taut. He turned his head to the right. Was that a rustle? He strained to listen.
Yes.
With a fluid grace, he swung down from the branch, landing in a crouch. He paused for only a second before sprinting toward the spot where he’d heard the sound.
Gerard’s face stayed in the back of his mind. Amar pictured his presumptuous manner in daring to question him. Amar growled, his anger spiking.
He knew the landscape. A giant oak was thirty feet ahead, and smaller saplings covered the area before it, with a few dense yew scattered here and there. In the day, it wasn’t much cover, but at night it gave Titus an advantage.
Up ahead, he could make out movement, but it was low to the ground. A cry came from the spot. Something was there. Something alive and hurt.
He slowed. The hair on the back of his neck signaled a danger he couldn’t see. Something’s wrong.
Amar whipped his head to the right just as Titus leapt from the shadows. Amar dodged out of the way, but Titus’s claws raked his left thigh. Fire burned through Amar, but instead of screaming, he laughed.
“Well done.” Amar circled around the beast.
Titus roared his disapproval. In the distance, Amar heard Titus’s mate, Cleo, scream out her own displeasure. But Cleo couldn’t help him. She was still locked in her cage.
Titus kept his eyes on Amar. Amar clenched his fists; the special gloves he had made glinted in the moonlight. Three sharp blades extended from the back of each hand: his own set of claws. It seemed only sporting that each of them came to the fight with the same weapons.
The pain in Amar’s thigh disappeared. “Ready, my friend?”
Titus looked back at him with an intelligence not seen in other animals. Amar smiled. His cats truly were the top of the food chain—although still well below him, of course.