The Belial Sacrifice

by R. D. Brady

  He’d made his way over the border and traveled on foot, staying off the main roads, not that traffic was very heavy. Calevitnia was not well developed. Invess, his destination, was an old town. There was only one paved road leading to the highway. The rest were still dirt.

  The safe house where Elisabeta had holed up sat quietly across the street. This street had a dozen homes, but only one man was outside. He led a cow down the dirt road. The man’s shoulders were hunched, his gaze not looking up or around. Sergei scrutinized the man but got no sense he was anything other than what he appeared to be: an Invess farmer bringing his cow to town to sell.

  The man’s hands were rough and weathered from years spent outdoors, and his boots were layered in mud and worse. That was what the government agents always got wrong: the hands and shoes.

  The man made his way slowly down the street, not looking right or left. When he was a few houses away, Sergei hefted the sledgehammer he had brought with him and slipped across the street and around the back of the house. It was a simple house. Sergei was sure Elisabeta had not been happy with the accommodations.

  But Sergei was. The entire home was wired. Any electronic communication devices were automatically cloned, all of their information copied. Cameras were spread throughout the home, recording every movement. Elisabeta thought Sergei was a brute, a war dog, and he was. But what she had missed was that war had changed. It was no longer fought with just brawn. Now information and computers were as large a weapon, if not a more dangerous weapon, than a country’s arsenal. Sergei, the old war dog, had learned some new tricks.

  Sergei slipped open the back door and stepped inside. Shadows made the dingy kitchen look even older. He moved across the peeling linoleum floor to a door in the hall underneath the stairs. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He waited a moment, but there was no movement, no sound.

  Satisfied he was alone and unnoticed, he pulled on the light above his head, sending a dim light downward. Old wooden stairs led down to a basement that had cinder block walls and a dirt floor. Basement wasn’t even the right word. It was a root cellar. When he’d bought the place, the former occupants had still been using it to store their vegetables and food.

  But now the place looked completely empty, and more importantly, undisturbed. Sergei hurried down the stairs, anticipation rolling through him.

  He’d had to wait months to return here, and the entire time he had worried that the safe house would be found. But it never had been. All those governments looking, and they had completely missed it. If Sergei were a religious man, he would have thought someone was looking out for him. But since he wasn’t, he knew it was because his people would never dare reveal anything about him. Some out of loyalty, but others kept quiet with the certainty that if they didn’t, Sergei would not only kill them but every person they loved.

  He reached the bottom of the stairs and crossed the dirt floor to the old stone wall at the back of the room. He leaned the sledgehammer against the wall for a moment as he wiped the dirt away from some of the rocks. Spying the marking he was looking for, he grabbed the hammer and swung.

  It took him ten minutes to break through the wall. He was covered in sweat and had stripped down to his undershirt. Dropping the hammer, he pulled the bricks away, leaving a large hole. He stretched his arm into the hole, reaching down until he felt smooth plastic. Sliding his hands along the edges of the rectangular object, he gently removed the cords attached to it.

  He pulled it out. It was black and only the size of an iPhone. And it was going to change the world.

  When he’d been on the run, he’d been able to review some of the recordings made in the house. That was how he knew Elisabeta had recovered the Omni formula. Once he had access to her computers, that formula had been downloaded onto this external disk drive.

  And no one, not even Elisabeta, was the wiser.

  Sergei smiled as he held up the drive. All that power, and I hold the key. He pulled the protective case from his pack and carefully inserted the disk drive before returning it to the bag. He hefted the pack onto his shoulder and headed to the stairs. Now let’s see how much you are worth.

  Chapter 2

  Bogota, Colombia

  Today

  The Honda’s two wheels lifted up as Delaney McPhearson took the turn too fast. Four yelps sounded from the back seat as the wheels slammed back down.

  From the passenger seat, Drake raised an eyebrow at her. “Perhaps we don’t wreck the car during the car chase?”

  “I got this.” Laney gripped the steering wheel tighter. God, please let me have this, she thought as she glanced in the rearview mirror. The Otero family sat huddled together, their almost identical brown eyes wide as their heads whipped back and forth, watching the side of the road zip past incredibly fast.

  Mateo Otero, the father, sat on the right, his arm protectively wrapped around his son, five-year-old Nicolas, while his wife, Mariana, sat with her arm around her eight-year-old daughter, Gabriella. Both parents were Nephilim, but only Nicolas had the faint stirrings of power. Gabriella would never have any abilities.

  The Oteros had been in hiding from the Colombian government for the last month. Just yesterday, Laney had received word from Susan Jacobs, the head of the American Followers, that someone had leaked the Oteros’ location to the government. Laney and Drake had flown into Bogota and tracked the Oteros down. They’d barely gotten the family in the car when the Fallen task force the Colombian government had set up had turned onto the street.

  Now that same task force was right on their tail.

  Laney whipped around another corner, cringing as a man on a bike screamed before jerking into a flower cart on the side of the road.

  “Sorry,” Laney muttered. They were in the middle of Bogota. Not exactly an easy place to lose a caravan of four cop cars. Laney jerked the wheel to the left, moving around a slow-moving red sedan. Drake sucked in a breath, and she got around the car, barely missing a milk truck coming in the opposite direction.

  Gerard’s voice came through Laney’s earpiece. “We’re in place.” They never went on these retrievals without at least four team members. Gerard was making sure their escape route was clear or would be soon.

  “Great. We’re coming in hot,” Laney said.

  Drake tapped his mike, joining the conversation. “And by hot, she means on fire. We have four behind us and a bird in the air.”

  “What?” Laney leaned forward, scanning the sky while not letting up on the speed.

  Drake cleared his throat. “Both eyes on the road, if you don’t mind. I did not live this long, glorious life to end up a hood ornament courtesy of the Colombian police.”

  Laney jerked her eyes back to the road but not before she caught sight of the dark helicopter in the sky.

  Crap. She had lost count of how many of these rescues she had gone on now. Every government in the world had declared it open season on Fallen and Nephilim. Whole families were being rounded up. Some had turned themselves in willingly to their governments, hoping for compassion. They then spent their days in twenty-four-hour lockdown, although some did have contact with the outside world.

  Laney couldn’t exactly blame the people who turned themselves in. There were more and more reports of whole swaths of people simply going missing. Not all were Fallen, but even if they weren’t, they were somehow connected to a Fallen, through blood or emotions. The rest had gone into hiding, trying to reach Laney through the network Susan Jacobs had set up. Laney and her people had saved as many as they could, but it was getting tougher. Her face was well known because of Elisabeta.

  But now Drake, Jen, Henry, Jake, Jordan, Mustafa, Lou, Rolly, Gerard—their faces were almost as well known. Avoiding cameras became critical in all their missions, which meant Danny became critical. He’d been training his own crew to work the cameras, but right now they only had about four people that could handle it.

  “Laney, you need to take a right,” Gerard said.


  “When?”

  “Right now!”

  Laney jerked the wheel.

  Drake sucked in a breath, grabbing the bar above his door.

  “That one was not my fault,” Laney said.

  Drake said nothing.

  “Pick up the pace, Laney,” Gerard ordered.

  Laney crushed the gas pedal to the floor. “This is as good as it gets.” But from the rearview she could see that she was putting a little distance between her and the cars behind her. It would have to be enough.

  “Now, don’t freak out. Just keep driving,” Gerard said.

  Laney frowned. “Why would I—”

  A dark shadow shifted into view overhead. Mateo yelled from the back seat. Laney gaped but then struggled to push down the gas pedal further to get any extra speed from the car.

  Drake sucked in a breath as the tractor-trailer dropped toward them.

  “No, no, no, no!” Laney whispered as they sailed under it by mere inches. The back bumper got clipped as it hit, sending them careening across the street.

  Laney wrestled with the wheel, yanking it back to the right, and slammed on the brakes.

  Shaken, she looked behind her. The tractor-trailer blocked the street, crushing the cars parked along either side. A second dark shadow fell in the distance followed by a thump, feeling like a small earthquake.

  “They’re boxed in. Meet you at the rendezvous,” Gerard said.

  Laney took a breath as she started once again to drive. “Okay. See you there.”

  Drake nodded approvingly. “Gerard is getting more creative with his methods.”

  Laney stared at him in disbelief. “He dropped two tractor-trailers onto a city street.”

  Drake shrugged. “Like I said, creative.”

  Mateo leaned forward, speaking quickly in Spanish. “Are we clear?”

  Laney glanced back at him, answering him in Spanish. “We’re clear of the police. We’ll head to our rendezvous and then take a plane. We should have you guys in our hideout in a few hours.”

  Mariana reached up and squeezed Laney’s shoulder. “Thank you, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She glanced over at Drake.

  He smiled at her in response. “You love this part, the saving people.”

  She grinned. “Yes, I do.”

  “I only have one question,” Drake said.

  “What?” Laney said, turning onto the main intersection and blending in with the traffic.

  “How exactly did Gerard get two tractor-trailers up there?”

  Laney opened her mouth and then closed it. She shook her head. “I have no idea. And I don’t think I want to know.”

  Chapter 3

  The trip from Colombia had been grueling. They’d gotten out of Bogota and headed to a small farm on the outside of town. Two old planes had been waiting for them, which they’d all crammed into, and then they headed over the border to a large farm outside Iquitos, Peru.

  The farm was owned by a friend of Susan’s. Luiz Huanca was a supporter of the network and allowed them to hide people, planes, and gear there. They stopped for only an hour. Long enough for the Oteros to take showers, eat, and then load back onto the plane, leaving everything they had brought with them behind.

  Luiz tapped Laney on the shoulder as she was heading for the airfield. She turned with a smile. “Thank you again, Luiz.”

  He waved away her words. “It’s nothing. My Samantha would have been very disappointed if I hadn’t. She smiles on all of you.”

  Samantha Huanca was Luiz’s wife. She had died on the Day of Reckoning. She’d been a Fallen in Chicago and had protected a family that another Fallen had targeted.

  “I’m sure she does.”

  Luiz handed her a large basket of chirimoya, a custard apple native to Peru. “For your friends.”

  Laney took it with a smile. “Oh, you have just made a lot of people very happy.”

  “I am sure you alone returning makes them happy.”

  She shrugged. “Honestly, I think it might be a toss-up between me and your apples. But seriously, thank you for everything. You have saved a lot of lives.”

  “It is the least I can do.”

  “And there have been no problems?”

  “No. I am too far away from anyone for there to be concern about an old man. And I have too much money for the government to want to annoy me with raids.”

  Jordan Witt, the fourth member of their team, walked up carrying his own basket of chirimoyas. “We need to get moving, Laney.”

  “I know.” She paused, looking around. Luiz’s ranch was nestled in a valley with large green-covered hills surrounding him. “You really have a beautiful spot here.”

  “Si. I appreciate it. It has been good to me. Now be careful, my friend, so you can come visit me again. Maybe once all of this has settled down you will come for a longer trip?”

  “I would like nothing more.” She gave Luiz a quick hug. Only a few minutes later, she was strapped into her seat, and Gerard was taking them into the air.

  Laney glanced back at the Oteros. Once again, the kids were between the parents, but both children had fallen asleep, their heads resting in their parents’ laps. Mariana leaned her head on Mateo’s shoulders, and they spoke quietly, looking more relaxed. Laney turned forward with a smile.

  Drake reached over and took her hand. “You did that, you know.”

  She glanced back behind the Oteros, where Jordan was curled up against the window, his eyes closed. “We did that. It’s a team effort.”

  “That’s not what I mean. You brought all these people together. You’re the lynchpin between us all.”

  “That’s a little scary.”

  He squeezed her hand, settling back in his chair and closing his eyes. “It shouldn’t be. You were born for this. Not just because of your ability but because of your heart. We are all lucky to have you in our lives.”

  Laney wasn’t sure what to say to that, but she quickly realized she didn’t need to say anything because Drake had closed his eyes, already drifting off to sleep.

  She unstrapped her seatbelt and walked up to the cockpit, taking a seat in the copilot’s chair.

  Gerard looked over at her. His blond hair had grown a little longer than he usually wore it, and he’d gotten some color on his skin. With his blue eyes, he was beginning to look like a surfer dude. “Everybody good?” he asked.

  “They’re good. How about up here?”

  “Smooth sailing.”

  “Good.” Laney scanned the sky. “Any word from Jake?”

  Jake had been in charge of another rescue in South Africa. A young man—although he was only eighteen—had been gathering Fallen together and keeping them on the move and away from the South African retrieval force. They’d been desperate for help, and unlike Laney’s job, that one involved about two dozen people.

  “He, Henry, Matt, and Mustafa wrapped up their mission an hour ago. They’re in the air. Everyone’s safe. They should be a few hours behind us.”

  “Good, good.” With just these two missions, they had added twenty-six to their numbers. They’d have enough room for them, but that was a lot of extra mouths to feed. Luiz had given them crates of food, which they were most definitely going to need.

  “Laney,” Gerard said.

  She turned her gaze from the sky. “Yeah?”

  “It’s okay. You can relax for just a little bit. Close your eyes, sleep. Take the break. You’re running yourself ragged.”

  As if he were a hypnotist, she felt the exhaustion that she had been pushing away for days crash down on her like a wave. She barely slept when they went on rescues. The people they were helping generally had no training, no skills beyond a God-given ability that many of them had spent years suppressing. Getting them to safety was often much more difficult than the other situations she went into on behalf of the SIA. For the SIA missions, everyone knew their job, and she could count on them to do it. With these rescues, there were families who were so l
ocked in a shocked state that they froze at the first sign of trouble. To say these missions were stressful was an absolute understatement.

  And then there was the constant worry about their hiding spot being discovered. Truth was, even if it was, no one would be able to get in. But food would be an issue if they decided to lay a good old-fashioned siege at the entrance.

  Issue upon issue—food shortages; incoming requests for help; worry for her uncle, who she hadn’t seen in four months—piled up on her. They were all a constant presence in her life. But as of this moment, there were no other good options available to them. No country would give them safe harbor and protect them from all the other countries of the world. There’d been rumors that Canada was protecting its citizens, but they were not open to being a sanctuary to Fallen from other countries. So for right now, hiding or government custody were the only options for enhanced individuals.

  “Laney, let it all go for at least the plane ride,” Gerard said, pushing harder. “Get some sleep. Even you need it.”

  “You’ll wake me if there are any problems?”

  “Without hesitation.” He grinned. “And I will expect you to save my ass with all due haste.”

  “Well, all right then.” She smiled. Drake is really rubbing off on him. When she’d met Gerard, he’d been so buttoned up. But apparently switching sides had brought out the relaxed side of him. She closed her eyes, exhaustion pressing down on her. She’d barely finished closing her eyes before she was asleep.

  Chapter 4

  Manila, Philippines

  The street was crowded with both cars and pedestrians. Smells from the palengke wafted from around the corner, even through the light rain. It was a mixture of fish, fruits, mud, stale water, and pig’s blood. Tourists often found it distasteful, but Sergei liked it. It was real.

  This part of Manila was a far cry from the glitz and glamour of Makati. A moped zipped along the side of the stalled traffic. A man carrying a brown paper bag stepped between the cars and jumped back with a yell as the mirror of a moped clipped his arm. He raised an angry fist at the moped driver, who didn’t slow down but whose passenger raised her middle finger in response.