The Belial Warrior (The Belial Series Book 9)

by R. D. Brady

  It had been a long time since she’d had a dream of one of her past lives, and she had thought she was done with them. Why had those dreams returned now?

  A chill ran through her. Pulling her legs to her chest, she curled her arms around them. Because now it’s time for me to fight my own war. Just the thought of it made the man in her head pound harder.

  She groaned, keeping her eyes closed as if somehow she could will herself back into the darkness.

  “Ah, you’re awake. Lovely.”

  The voice—educated, amused, and snarky—brought back a recollection of what had happened prior to her blackout. She had been hiding out in Colorado for a month, only to be found by the police. They had surrounded her cabin and opened fire. She would have died—if not for the man who flew in the cabin’s back door and covered her body with his own as the bullets flew. That man had saved her life.

  Her eyes flew open. She was on a soft leather couch in what looked like a small cottage. A blue blanket lay crumpled beside the couch on an ivory wool rug, and a fire roared cheerily in a stone fireplace to her left. Windows surrounded the place, showing her a lake rimmed in snow on one side and a forest of green on the other. The room opened to a sleek, modern kitchen of white and silver that took up half the space. At the back of the open kitchen were French doors through which Laney could see a light dusting of snow. And Drake—Las Vegas entertainer, consummate egoist, and sabbatical-taking archangel—sat across the room.

  She sat up quickly. “You—” A wave of nausea rolled through her. She grabbed her stomach and leaned forward.

  “Careful. I’m told that drug packs quite a wallop.”

  “You drugged me. After you knocked me out and kidnapped me,” she said, gritting her teeth against the pain in her head and the anger in her chest.

  “You say kidnap, I say save. You say drugged and knocked out, I say forced relaxation.”

  “Drake…” Laney warned. She imagined herself pummeling the archangel. She could not simply order him to do what she wanted like she could with fallen angels. But she was pretty sure a shower of lightning bolts would remove some of his ego.

  “There’s some water and aspirin on the coffee table,” he said.

  Laney started to shake her head—but thought better of the idea when pain lanced through her brain. She spied the pills and pulled them to her. She inspected them, noting that they bore the logo of a well-known aspirin.

  “Where’s the trust?” Drake groused.

  Drake stood over by the kitchen counter now sipping from a coffee mug. She hadn’t heard him move. “Why are you all the way over there?” she asked.

  Drake raised his coffee cup in salute. “Merely staying out of striking range until I assess your mood. I have no interest in marring this beautiful face.”

  Laney ignored the remark as she swallowed the pills, followed by the water and she said a quick prayer that they worked quickly. She closed her eyes, wishing she could fall back asleep and stay asleep until her head stopped pounding. Better yet, she wished she could wake up to learn that Drake’s appearance—and everything about the last few weeks—had all been just a bad dream.

  She opened her eyes to Drake’s amused grin. No such luck. “Is there any coffee for me?”

  “Why, of course.” Drake poured her a cup.

  “How long have I been out?” she asked.

  “Almost twelve hours.”

  "Twelve hours?"

  Drake shrugged. "The dosage is a little tricky. I may have given you more than recommended."

  Laney bit back an angry retort. "Where are we?”

  Drake brought over her coffee, placing it on the coffee table. “My cabin,” he said.

  Laney looked around again. The cabin had some expensive pieces, but it was comfortable, understated. “I expected more mirrors.”

  Drake laughed and Laney took her first good look at him. Gone were the leather pants and unbuttoned silk shirts he usually wore. In their place were a navy blue wool sweater and sage green corduroys with brown boots. He looked like he had stepped out of a Ralph Lauren photo shoot. His blue eyes were as observant as ever, and his cheekbones just as sharp, but his outfit softened his appearance, making him… attractive. Laney took a sip of her coffee. There must have been more than painkiller in those pills.

  “And where exactly is this cabin?” she asked.

  “Alaska.”

  Laney jolted. She had been planning on heading to Alaska to hide out.

  “See?” Drake said, as if reading her mind. “You and I are not that different after all.”

  “Did you rent this place?”

  Drake shook his head. “It’s mine. I’ve had it for, oh, a hundred years or so.”

  “Will someone be able to trace it to you?”

  “Tsk, tsk. Not born yesterday, remember? Not even born in the last few centuries. The deed to this place is well buried.”

  “Still, I can’t stay here. They’ll be looking for me. I need to go.” Laney started to stand.

  Drake placed his hand on her arm. “Laney, you’re safe here. I won’t let anyone harm you.”

  Laney looked into his eyes. At that moment, she saw none of the flashy Vegas entertainer. Instead she saw the man who had come to fetch her in China after Victoria’s death, at a time when she had been unable to think clearly. And now the man who had appeared from nowhere in Colorado, saving her life.

  Then Drake dropped his hand, and the moment was gone. “Besides, I don’t often bring women back to my place. You should feel honored.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  And… he’s back. Laney leaned back against the couch. “It’s nice.”

  Drake gave her a smile. “I’m glad you like it. Now, through that door over there, you will find a bedroom. I took the liberty of picking you up some clothes. And there’s an attached bath for you as well.”

  “What am I doing here, Drake? In the plane you said I needed to learn about my past life. What did you mean by that?”

  “All in due time. Now, I think you’ll probably feel better after a shower and change of clothes.”

  Laney wanted to press him, but to be honest her head still felt fuzzy, and a shower sounded heavenly. “Okay. But then we talk.”

  He tipped his head toward her, a smile playing at his lips. “Whatever you wish, ring bearer.”

  Chapter 4

  The shower was glorious. Laney closed her eyes and stood under the scalding spray, trying to wash off the last month. Memories assailed her—memories of how the media had twisted her actions and made her public enemy number one.

  But not on their own, she thought with resentment. Samyaza had directed them behind the scenes, guiding how each event should be viewed. Samyaza had also led Laney along and she hadn't realized it until it was too late and Samyaza had managed to turn the whole world against her.

  She pictured Elisabeta sitting demurely with Mike Wallace on The Sunday Report set, destroying her world and heard her words again. “She’s not who the media has portrayed her to be. The world knows she’s powerful, but they don’t know that she’s cruel. She’s dangerous.”

  Laney tightened her eyes against the feeling of betrayal. All the time I spent risking my life to save people, and Samyaza turned it all around in an instant.

  Ever since that broadcast, Laney had been under siege. Dozens of law enforcement agencies, both at home and abroad, were looking into her, and a warrant had been issued for her arrest. Warrants, she corrected herself.

  She’d managed to stay ahead of law enforcement for a while, but then she stuck her neck out to save a girl from two perverts, and the Feds managed to track her down. She should have moved on. But she had hated the idea of leaving Drew’s cabin.

  An image of Patrick, Henry, and Jake sitting at the table in Henry’s kitchen floated through her mind. They were the reason she had run. She had wanted to protect them from the danger that was stalking her. She missed them all so much. But nothing had changed. In fact, the events in Colorado had on
ly reinforced the rightness of her decision. It was a miracle she was still alive. If any of them had been with her…

  She shook her head as she turned off the shower and grabbed a fluffy white towel. No. Leaving them was the right choice. The safe choice—at least for them.

  After drying off, she slipped into the leggings and long sweater that Drake had left for her. She couldn’t contain her surprise at his choice. She’d been expecting something a lot tighter, shorter, and flashier, but like the cottage, the clothes he’d chosen were expensive yet understated.

  As she dried her hair, she looked around the room. The walls were wood, and pale lacy curtains hung at the sides of the room’s only window. A king sleigh bed with an ivory comforter and pale blue sheets stood in one corner, with a trunk at its foot, and a standing mirror occupied another corner. Laney just couldn’t reconcile this cozy, quaint place with the flashy Drake.

  But what she really couldn’t figure out was how he had ended up in Colorado—and why. Twice now he’d shown up when she needed someone. How had he known? And why had he helped her? She knew there was more than flash under the man’s skin, despite the image he projected to the world, but he had risked discovery intervening in Colorado. And he’d taken more than a few bullets for her. What was his end game? Was she some sort of archangel mission?

  Laney brushed through her red hair and stared at her reflection, as if somehow the woman in the mirror could answer her questions. But her reflection wasn’t talking. Which left only one other person.

  She laid the brush back on the dresser and headed to the living room. Time to chat with an archangel.

  Chapter 5

  Drake heard the hairdryer going in the other room. He headed to the stove and put on the kettle. And he noticed his hands shaking. I’m nervous. I can’t believe I’m nervous.

  He grabbed some mugs from the cupboard and placed them on the counter. He pulled out some lemon biscuits, changed his mind and put them away again, then pulled them put again. Oh, for God’s sake, man, pull it together. The kettle whistled, and after placing a teabag in one of the mugs, he poured in the water.

  The door to the bedroom opened behind him, and he turned, his smirk back on his face. “About time. I thought you were going to use up all the water.”

  Laney stepped into the room. The deep purple of her sweater brought out the green in her eyes and accentuated the highlights in her hair. But Drake pretended not to notice.

  “Any chance I could get a cup?” she asked.

  Drake shrugged. “Sure. Help yourself.” He walked over to the couch and took a seat.

  Laney shook her head as she walked to the kitchen. “You’re a real gentleman, Drake.”

  He said nothing as he took a sip, just watching her move around the kitchen. Something about her being here gave him a sense of contentment he hadn’t felt in… Actually, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this content.

  Chapter 6

  As Laney fixed herself a cup of tea and took a sip, she felt a pang of homesickness for her uncle. He always loved a good cup of tea. She turned to Drake, who sat on the couch staring into the fire with a brooding expression. “Drake?”

  The brooding look disappeared from his face. “Yes?”

  She gestured around the cabin. “You said you’d tell me what this is all about.”

  He nodded. “Before you woke, you were tossing about. Bad dream?”

  “It—I was Helen. Castor and Pollux were going to teach me how to fight better than any man.”

  “That they did,” he said softly.

  Laney narrowed her eyes. “What?”

  He grinned. “I’ve read quite a bit of history, ring bearer. Your brothers were very dedicated to their duties.”

  “Why do you do that?”

  “What?”

  “Call me ring bearer. That’s not my name, yet that’s what you always call me. Why?”

  Drake looked away.

  “Why?” Laney demanded. Something told her the answer was important.

  Drake shrugged. “It puts a distance between us. It reminds me who you are and what your job is. It reminds me of the stakes.”

  He spoke with no hesitation, but Laney knew he hadn’t given her the full answer. “I don’t understand.”

  “No, I suppose you don’t.” He gave her a small smile. “But you will. You just need to remember. Remember who you were and what you’re capable of.”

  “Remember what? Which lifetime?”

  “Helen. Helen is the key.”

  “The key to what?”

  "Everything that's happening now."

  Exasperation ran through her. “How can the life of a woman who has been dead for thousands of years be related to what’s happening now? Samyaza is going to strike. You know that. How could some Bronze Age information help with that? I mean, what I saw earlier—that was just my brothers and I. There was nothing important in it. No key to fighting the Fallen.”

  “I think you’ve learned that history is more than your textbooks have explained,” Drake said. “Powers have been gained and lost over the millennia, and some of the weapons of old are more powerful that anything you have today.”

  “Well, if you were around back then, why can’t you just tell me whatever it is I need to know?”

  “Because I don’t know. Only Helen does. It’s why you need to remember.”

  Laney placed her mug on the counter. “I don’t think I can. This dream I had just now—it’s the first dream I’ve had about my past lives since… since Mom.”

  “Ah, but it’s not by chance that you had that dream,” said Drake.

  Laney narrowed her eyes. “Wait—the drug you gave me? It was a hallucinogen?”

  “Not exactly. Let’s just say it ‘opens the gates’—and once they’re open, you do the rest.”

  Laney sighed. “I don’t know what you expect of me.”

  “I expect a great deal. As does the world.”

  The weight of Laney’s responsibility pushed down on her. She turned away.

  She felt Drake move to stand behind her. “You’ve done this before,” he said. “You can do it again.”

  “I don’t remember that life. And I can’t possibly have had the odds stacked against me like they are now.”

  Gently he turned her around. “You’d be surprised.”

  “I can’t remember, Drake. I just can’t.”

  “That’s where I come in.” He smiled at her, and before she could move he plunged a needle into her arm.

  “Damn it.” Laney shoved him away. She blinked, her vision darkening at the edges, her legs growing weak. “Drake?”

  Strong arms wrapped around her. “I’ve got you. Now sleep. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  And for some reason Laney couldn’t fathom, she believed him. So she stopped fighting the darkness and let it take her away.

  “They called me Helen. Let me tell you all the truth of what has happened to me.”

  —Euripides, Helen

  Chapter 7

  Sparta, Greece

  Helen’s eyes flew open as the heavy drapes in her room were yanked back. Early morning light shone across the room, highlighting the fresco in the floor and the pale salmon of the walls.

  Adorna, Helen’s servant since she was born, bustled around the room collecting her clothes. “What time did you get in last night? And what were you doing? These clothes are filthy. Is that blood?”

  Helen remembered the race through the countryside with her brothers. They had received word that a village had been attacked. But they had been too late to do anything but help the survivors, few that there were.

  Helen rolled over and watched Adorna. “We went to the village of Minochus, outside Plataea. They were attacked by the Followers of Zeus.”

  Adorna stopped and looked at Helen. “Were there any survivors?”

  “Not enough,” Helen said quietly.

  The Followers of Zeus claimed that their attacks were made at the be
hest of the king of the gods. And as more and more of these attacks were reported throughout Greece, the people responded by increasing their offerings to Zeus at his temples. The number of temples was increasing as well—all in a bid to placate him. But Helen knew that only men, not gods, were responsible for the attacks.

  Adorna bowed her head, some of her light brown hair falling forward as she offered a prayer to the gods. Helen didn’t. She’d learned long ago that the “gods” were no more than mortals with incredible abilities. Some used those powers for good, but some used them to destroy and take. Not for the first time, Helen wished she had the power to fight them. Yet even with all her lethal skills, she was no match for the Fallen.

  “Your father and mother want to speak with you,” Adorna said.

  Helen sat up in bed. She felt like she’d barely crawled into it before Adorna had woken her. “Now?”

  “They’ve already eaten. They’ll be waiting for you in the courtyard when you’re done.”

  Helen grumbled. Right—father will patiently wait while I eat.

  She hurriedly put on her tunic, relieved that she didn’t have to bother with those ridiculous dresses she’d seen the women in Athens wear. But a glance in the mirror brought her up short. There was nothing surprising about her reflection—short blond hair, bright blue eyes, skin turned golden from the sun—but she reached a hand to her cheek, suddenly recalling the face of a woman with red hair and green eyes and pale skin. Such a strange dream.

  Her hand moved from her cheek to her short hair. The women in Athens have one freedom though that she envied—they were allowed to keep their hair long. All unmarried females in Sparta kept their hair short, and she would not mind, when she was married, being allowed to grow hers out.