by R. D. Brady
The recording started that morning when Victoria and Ralph got up. Ralph left his bedroom and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. Victoria joined him a few minutes later and set the table. Then the two sat down and ate while reading the newspaper. The normalcy of the scene was jarring when compared with the now blood-soaked room. Laney wanted to yell a warning at them. Run!
“They didn’t suspect a thing,” Jake murmured.
A few minutes later, Ralph’s head whipped up like it was on a string. Two canisters came flying through the back windows. They sparked.
“Flash bangs,” Jake murmured. Victoria dropped to the ground, her hands over her ears.
Ralph paused only for a second; he seemed to barely be affected by the concussion weapons. He pulled Victoria to her feet as men poured into the room.
Laney put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God.”
Ralph and Victoria stood in the middle of the intruders.
And then all hell broke loose.
Ralph moved so fast Laney couldn’t even see him. He blurred through the room, taking out man after man. It was a bloodbath.
Victoria moved back against the wall, keeping out of reach. But then one of the gunmen grabbed her and put a gun to her head. He yelled.
Ralph stopped moving.
Victoria shook her head, yelling at Ralph. The recording had no sound, but Laney could make out the words clearly: No, Ralph. Run.
On the screen, two men manhandled Ralph to the ground. One of the gunmen walked forward and shot Ralph point blank in the forehead. Ralph’s head snapped back.
Laney gasped, and Jake tightened his grip on her hand.
Victoria slammed her fist into the groin of the man who held her; he dropped. She ran for Ralph, but another man grabbed her around the waist.
The gunman who’d shot Ralph in the head wasn’t done. He pulled the trigger over and over again, emptying his magazine into Ralph’s heart.
In the corner of the screen, Victoria struggled against the man who held her. Her arms reached for Ralph, her face contorted in pain and grief.
Laney stumbled back, her hand to her mouth. Jake slipped his arms around her, keeping her upright. Henry sat heavily on the desk. But none of them spoke.
Ralph’s body jerked as each bullet landed. Then it stopped and went still. On screen, Victoria, too, stopped fighting, all but collapsing. The men picked her up and carried her out.
Another man walked into the kitchen then, and Laney felt a jolt of recognition. Jorgen Fuld. He walked over to Ralph and emptied his magazine into Ralph’s heart.
“Son of a bitch,” Jake growled.
Laney stared. Her body began to shake, and her mouth felt unable to form words. She looked over at Henry, whose face was frozen in anguish. All of Henry’s childhood memories involved Ralph. Laney’s heart broke for him.
Numbly, they continued to watch the video. The men gathered up their injured and dead. Finally, the men left, and there was only Ralph left on the floor.
The tape continued to roll.
And then a few minutes later, Henry entered. He went still at the doorway before running to Ralph and kneeling at his side.
Laney’s heart broke again at the sight of the agony on Henry’s face. Seconds later though, Henry sprinted for the door. Laney knew how hard it must have been for Henry to leave Ralph behind.
Laney felt empty as she stared at Ralph. She remembered him sharing with her the photo album Victoria had kept of Laney through the years.
All three of them stared at the tape, but nothing changed. Jake began to fast forward.
“Guys, look.” Jake pointed at the monitor.
On screen, Ralph’s hand twitched. Then it rolled into a fist. Ralph sat up—slowly, wincing. He got to his knees and stayed there for a moment before standing. Then he stumbled out of the room.
Jake switched to another camera view: the front hall. There was Ralph again, continuing doggedly onward, his posture straightening with each step. Before long, he sprinted out the door and out of the camera’s view.
Laney stepped back and fell into the chaise lounge, stunned. She stared at the clock on the right hand side of one of the screens. “He was down for almost thirty minutes. How could he come back after thirty minutes?”
Henry’s eyes were wide. “I don’t know. It… it’s not possible. It just isn’t.”
“Apparently it is,” Jake said. “So now the bigger question is: How?”
Laney looked at the bloodstain where Ralph had lain. It was large. She knew nephilim and Fallen could regenerate, but not from wounds that serious. All that blood loss. And all those chest shots. Ralph’s heart should have been destroyed.
Jake placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him.
He nodded at the ring on the chain around Laney’s neck. “Have you ever felt anything around Ralph?”
“No, nothing. I—” She stopped short. “Actually, I haven’t worn the ring around him.”
“But in Saqqara,” Henry said.
Laney shook her head. “No. I’ve never worn it around him. He’s been to the school with Victoria, but you guys know I don’t wear it unless it might be necessary. And it’s never been necessary when he’s been around.” She looked at Henry. “You haven’t felt anything around him?”
“No, but if he’s a Fallen, I wouldn’t feel anything.”
Laney looked from Jake to Henry. “But some of the kids at the school are Fallen. Lou is. She would have mentioned something.”
Jake squeezed her arm. “I’m going to speak with the SIA. Tell them to put out an APB on Ralph.”
Laney nodded numbly, still staring at the screen. Then she looked up into Henry’s tortured face. And although neither of them said a word, the same question hung in the hair between them.
What exactly was Ralph?
CHAPTER 13
Thirty minutes later, Laney stepped out the back door of Victoria’s home and took a deep breath. The house felt stifling even though she knew it was no warmer than usual, but at the same time a chill that seemed to have settled over her. Jake had gone to speak with Jordan to see what he could find out about Ralph.
Laney glanced back toward the house. Henry had headed out the front door earlier. For a moment she thought about going to find him, but she quickly discarded the idea. He needed some time alone. And truth be told, so did she.
Through the window, she could see people walking around Victoria’s kitchen. Victoria, a woman whose entire life had been a deeply held secret, was now having that life flayed wide open.
Turning back to the yard, Laney remembered Victoria’s garden when she had first seen it. It had been a riot of color: roses, pom-poms, daisies, and dozens more. Now those colors had all been bleached as the cool weather had moved in.
Laney walked through the path that cut through the middle of the garden, her eyes flicking from side to side. Even with the cool weather, she saw signs of life. The mums had broken through the earth, signaling the advent of new, darker colors.
About a hundred yards from the house, she turned onto a path on her left. At the top of the rise she paused and looked at the white tombstone surrounded by its own little garden. A wrought iron bench sat nearby, under a rose of Sharon tree.
Laney walked to the grave. “Hey, sis.” She knelt down and ran her hands over the engraving.
Sarah
She never had a chance to live,
but by her death helped save another.
Last year, when Laney learned that she was the biological daughter of Victoria, she also learned that her parents’ own biological daughter had passed away at birth. Victoria had had the child buried and had tended to her gravesite all those years. Laney had struggled with what to think about Victoria and this other child. But then she’d realized that, at heart, she and Sarah were sisters.
Laney spoke to the tombstone. “I thought you should know: someone took Mom. But we’ll get her back. I promise.” She grabbed some leaves that had fallen onto the gra
ve and tossed them to the side. She stood and turned.
Taking a seat on the bench, she watched a flock of geese fly overhead. She closed her eyes. She knew she should go inside and help. But she needed a moment to take in everything that had happened. Jorgen Fuld had Victoria. She pictured him at the airfield; the image of him with his glasses knocked off was in the front of her mind. His eyes had looked black—completely black.
But that wasn’t possible. No one had completely black eyes. Even the Fallen looked human. It had to have been a trick of the light, right?
Why had he taken Victoria? To get to Laney and Henry? But why make it so obvious? He’d been off the radar. They’d had no signs of him. All his homes had been shuttered. So why stick his head out now?
Did he somehow know who Victoria was? His men had been prepared for Ralph. Even Laney and Henry hadn’t had a clue as to Ralph’s nature—and to be honest, they still didn’t. So how did Jorgen’s men know to take him down? And who—or rather what—was Ralph?
She clenched her fists, her annoyance at Victoria flaring up. If Victoria had told them who she was, maybe all of this could have been avoided. Maybe…
Laney cut herself off in mid-thought. That was a useless line of reasoning. What was done was done. She needed to focus on the here and now. Not what she wished had happened.
After all, there was already plenty to keep her thoughts occupied. She pictured the Fallen shooting at Fuld’s men. What had that been all about?
They must have been under Samyaza’s direction, but why were they fighting Jorgen? And why were they trying to rescue Victoria? Laney put her head in her hands. It didn’t make any sense.
Unless Victoria is working with them, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. Laney didn’t want to go there, but she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to avoid that voice for long.
“Hey there.”
Laney’s head popped up as Jake walked over and took a seat next to her.
She wrapped her hand in his. “Hey.”
“You doing okay?”
She shook her head before leaning it on Jake’s shoulder. “I don’t know.”
He kissed her forehead. “We’ll find her.”
“I hope so.”
They sat together in silence for a few minutes.
Laney finally lifted her head and looked at Jake. Frown lines had formed between his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“What? Oh, nothing—just worried about Victoria and Ralph,” he said, trying to cover the frown.
Laney narrowed her eyes. “That’s not it. What’s going on?”
Jake looked at her for a moment. “Back at the airfield…” He paused.
“Yes?”
“When you called up that lightning. It was pretty powerful stuff.”
“I guess.”
“No. Not ‘I guess.’ Laney, you were practically glowing. Your hair was flying around. I could feel the power radiating off of you.”
Laney sat back. She hadn’t realized that. She paused, unsure whether she wanted to hear the answer to the question she needed to ask. “Do my powers… scare you?”
“Sometimes.”
Laney jolted and pulled her hand away.
He reached out and grabbed her hand. “No, don’t back away from me. It’s not what you think. I trust you—with my very life. But you have weapons at your disposal that are new to you. It’s like handing a loaded gun to someone who’s never shot before. I’d feel better if they had a few lessons.”
“Well, the only person I know who can control the weather is Storm from X-Men. Should I call Stan Lee, see if he has any pointers? Or maybe see if the Dog Whisperer has some free time?”
Jake laughed. “No. I don’t think that will be necessary. But how about if we train a little bit with your powers? I’ll set up some targets, and you’ll take them down with different abilities.”
Laney liked the idea. Anything that helped her get a better handle on her powers was more than okay with her. And the fact that Jake wanted to help her meant a lot. “Thank you.”
He tilted her chin up. “You are the most important person in the world to me. Anything I can do to make this destiny of yours easier, I’ll do.”
“I love you, Jake.”
“I love you, too.”
Laney sat nestled in Jake’s arms, letting herself take the comfort he offered. But her questions wouldn’t stay still for long. Dozens of them whirled through her mind. And one question kept repeating over and over again.
Who is Victoria?
CHAPTER 14
Baltimore, Maryland
Sixteen-year-old Danny Wartowski stared at the screen, but his mind was focused on Henry’s call about Victoria. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, hoping no one walked in.
He’d only met Victoria a few months ago, but they had taken to each other right away. It was nice having a grandma. She had called him every week, and she’d even stopped by for lunch, just the two of them every two weeks. He liked her. She took him seriously. And more importantly, she “got” him—the way grandmas are supposed to.
Cleo bumped Danny with her head, and he wrapped his arm around her neck. “I’m okay, Cleo.”
Cleo kept her head pressed against Danny for another few seconds before she turned and walked over to the couch at the back of the office, where five-year-old Max Simmons was sprawled out, asleep. The boy had come to visit with Maddox. Maddox was on the phone with his sister just out in the hall.
Max sighed and turned in his sleep. Cleo lay down on the floor in front of the couch. Moxy, Danny’s shepherd mix, padded over and curled up next to her. Danny smiled at the camaraderie between the two of them.
Laney had put Cleo on guard duty while she was away, and the giant Javan leopard was taking her duty seriously. She hadn’t let Max out of her sight since Laney had left—except for when nature called.
Danny turned back to the screen, but he couldn’t seem to focus on his latest project. Jorgen Fuld had grabbed Victoria, and the Fallen had been there too. There must be an explanation. He just had to find it.
He glanced behind him as Max murmured again and rolled onto his side. The boy looked so innocent with his floppy brown hair and his stuffed lamb clutched to his chest. In fact, Max looked like any other five-year-old—cute and harmless. And yet, Danny had the distinct impression that Max was much more important than any of them knew.
He turned back to the screen to the web page he’d pulled up. The words “Indigo Children” were written across the top of the page in white outlined in purple. Danny read quickly.
Indigo children are distinct from psychic children. Psychic children have always been reported, throughout human history. Indigo children, by contrast, have been identified as such only since 1978. And they have a range of psychic abilities.
In China, over a hundred thousand psychic children have been identified by the government. And the Chinese government is alleged to have spent millions researching them. Of course, the Chinese government doesn’t call them indigo children or psychics. They explain the expenditures as studying extra human functions, or EHF.
But the children in the Chinese program don’t just have the ability to predict the future or reach those who have passed. Some have truly unique gifts. One girl was reportedly able to make plants come to life with a wave of her hand.
Danny ran a hand through his hair. Was he really buying any of this? And was any of this related to Max? Was Max an indigo child?
Danny knew Max spoke with people who had passed. But the Fallen wanted Max, so there must be more to the story. After all, they could easily find someone else with psychic abilities—someone who was not nearly as well guarded as Max.
Danny clicked back to the search page and scrolled through the other websites that discussed the indigo children, unsure what he was looking for. Part of him couldn’t believe he was actually considering this, but the other part of him acknowledged that science had its limits. And hundreds of years ago, planes, medici
ne, microscopes, robotic surgery—all these ordinary facets of modern life—would have seemed like impossibilities. Hundreds of years from now, would people look back and think the same about psychic abilities?
Danny shook his head, trying to look come at the idea of psychic abilities rationally. There were two schools of thought on human evolution. One held that humans evolved incredible incredibly slowly over a very long period of time. In fact, some research even suggested that human evolution was slowing down - —that fewer and fewer mutations in the genetic code were being transmitted from one generation to the next.
But there was also another school of thought—it argued that human evolution actually occurred in huge leaps.
But what if those leaps don’t occur uniformly? What if they occur only with select people?
After all, the human family tree is a lot more complex than anyone ever realized, but somewhere we must all have had a common ancestor before new generations were born with all that variation. What if the indigo children weren’t just humans with certain abilities? What if they were a new type of human altogether?
Danny’s eyes strayed to Max, sleeping so peacefully on the couch. If the indigo children existed, were they the next leap in human evolution? Was Max?
Danny looked at the screen, a chill falling over him.
Am I?
After all, one of the alleged traits of indigo children was an increase in intelligence. And Danny himself was considered an immeasurable genius—someone whose IQ was so high it couldn’t be quantified.
In fact, in recent years, more and more children were being discovered who met the criteria for genius. Danny had always thought that the increase in the number of genius children was actually due to an increase in the frequency of intelligence testing, not in the proportion of geniuses in the population. But was it possible that they were living in a time of humanity’s next leap forward in evolution?