The Belial Library (The Belial Series) (32 page)

Henry struggled to keep his shock off his face.  How was he able to read it?  “Why would you think I could read them?”

Sebastian paused, picking a piece of lint from his sleeve, before looking back at Henry.  “Because your father wrote it.”

Baltimore, MD

Laney's mind whirled.  Henry's abilities had astounded her when she'd first witnessed them.  His strength, his agility.  They were otherworldly.  She’d scoured countless books after the Montana incident, looking for an explanation. 

At one point, she’d suspected he might be one of the Fallen and for a time she’d even wondered if he might be a nephilim, mainly because of his height.  The quote from Genesis ran through her mind:  “The giants came from the union of the sons of God and the daughters of men.”

The more she got to know him, however, the less his status mattered.  He was Henry, her friend, Danny's father. She’d put her questions to rest, knowing Henry would talk to her someday if he wanted to.  And until then, she'd keep her thoughts to herself.  But now Henry's mother was telling them who he was.  What he was. 

Jen flashed through her mind and she went still.  Was it possible Jen was also a nephilim? If the Fallen could reproduce, how many nephilim could be out there?

Laney forced her mind back to the conversation as Jake spoke.  "Does anyone else know what he is?"

"I don't think so.  But it's not impossible.  Henry's father was killed by someone who knew his nature.  It's possible they could have suspected what Henry was."

"Does Henry know?"

"No."

"Would someone be able to tell the difference between one of the Fallen and a nephilim?"  Laney asked.

Victoria paused, giving Laney a measured look.  "A human wouldn't.  But a Fallen would.  From what I understand, the Fallen feel a kinship when they’re near one another.  They would feel a connection with a nephilim as well, but the link would be weaker."

"Do the nephilim feel the kinship with the Fallen?"  Jake asked

"I don't believe so.  But they do for one another."

Laney flashed on the look on Jen's face when Henry had walked into her hospital room in Ecuador.  She recognized him.  But was it because Jen was a nephilim or a Fallen?

"Laney?"  Victoria asked.

Laney looked over sharply.  Victoria was watching her again, a calculating look on her face. 

Laney pulled her face into a neutral expression.  She would have to watch herself with this woman.  She was far too observant and right now, they didn't really know anything about her except that she’d faked her own death.  They couldn't even be sure Henry knew she was alive.

"What about powers?"  Jake asked.  "Are their powers any different?"

"It depends.  Powers are like any genetic trait.  For some, they have their parent’s exact skill.  For others, they have some, and for others, nothing."

Laney sat back.  So Dom was right.  If it were truly genetic, though, did that mean it could even skip generations and appear decades later in a family?  How many exceptional athletes owed their skill to a genetic gift from a fallen angel? 

"What about for Henry?" Laney asked.

"Henry has the strength and much of the speed, although I've seen some faster.  He heals quickly, but not as quickly as the Fallen."

"Meaning he'd be easier to kill than they are," Jake said.

Victoria's chin trembled, but her voice remained steady.  "Yes."

Silence descended as they all fell off into their own thoughts. 

Jake finally broke the quiet.  "Okay.  Henry's a genetic freak.  Good to know.  But that still doesn't help us find him.  And it doesn't tell us why he was grabbed."

Victoria nodded.  "Because of the metal library.”
             

Laney glanced up sharply.  How did Victoria know about that?

Victoria continued on, unaware of Laney's thoughts.  "Henry has always been so careful.   But they threatened the most important thing in the world to him."

"Danny," Laney said softly.

Victoria nodded.  "So he didn't hold back."

"But it still doesn't explain why he was targeted.  Why would they think Henry could read those books?  Why would they think he had any abilities?”  Jake asked.

Laney watched Victoria, a shiver of unease rolling down her back.

Jake stood up, annoyance in his voice.  “We’ve got a lead on Henry’s location.  I’ve already begun preparations to chase it down.  Henry’s nature is irrelevant to that.  It doesn’t matter why they took him.  It matters that we get him back.”

Laney watched Victoria.  She was afraid Jake was wrong.  Dead wrong.  Henry’s nature did matter, very much.  Whatever this woman’s angle here, it was obvious she cared about Henry.  And right now she was terrified.  “You said Henry’s father wasn’t one of the Fallen.  But Henry is a nephilim.”

Victoria nodded.  “Yes.  And I think Henry’s parentage is exactly why he was taken.”

“Why?  Who are you?”

“Just a human, no one important.”

Laney glanced up sharply.  There was no way someone unimportant had to fake their own death, spend twenty years in hiding, and had access to the information Victoria had.  There was nothing unimportant about her. 

“Then this is about Henry’s father?  Who was he?”  Jake asked.

Victoria paused.  She took a deep breath and expelled it.  "What do you know about angels?"

"Quite a lot," Laney replied, thinking of all the books and articles she’d immersed herself in since last year.

Victoria shook her head.  “Not the Fallen.  Actual angels.”

Laney stared at her, her mind racing. 

"Dom’s right,” Victoria said.  “Most nephilim only have some of their parents’ powers.  But some angels are able to gift their children with multiple powers.  Henry’s father was just such a man.”

“What powers did he have?”  Jake asked.

“Henry’s father was incredibly gifted with languages.  All languages.”

“Including Enochian?” Laney asked.

Victoria gave a little smile.  “Yes, especially Enochian.”

Laney struggled to recall which Fallen was adept at languages. Baraqel taught people astrology, Chazaqiel taught meteorology. 

She ran through a list of names in her mind. Raduriel, Rahatiel, Machidiel.  None of the skills of angels, Fallen or not, seemed to fit.  The closest she could come up with was Peneume, who was supposed to have taught humans how to write.

“So who exactly was Henry’s father?”  Jake asked.

“This may be a bit difficult to believe,” Victoria began.

Laney struggled not to laugh.  A bit difficult to believe?  Two of her best friends were at least part angel, she herself had helped take down two Fallen angels, one of whom had been hell bent on using an ancient weapon of mass destruction, and just last week she’d uncovered an ancient cache of knowledge hidden for thousands of year.  She was pretty sure she was beyond disbelieving anything at this point.

“What do you know of Enoch?”  Victoria asked.

“The guy who wrote the books about the Fallen?” Jake asked.

Laney rattled everything she could remember.  “He lived 365 years. He was Noah’s great grandfather.  Ascended to heaven without dying, allegedly spoke on God’s behalf to Moses, has three books attributed to him, got a tour of heaven while still alive, and basically was God’s most trusted.”

Victoria inclined her head.  “Henry was right about you.”

Before Laney could ask her what she meant by that, Victoria continued.  “Enoch was also an important scribe.  In some cultures, he was so important he was seen as being on a level with God.”

“God?” Jake asked, disbelief across his face. 

Laney knew Jake struggled to believe the whole Fallen angels walking the earth bit.  Asking him to believe God had a hand in all this was another leap she was sure he was going to have difficulty with.

“And Enoch never died.  He just disappeared into the heavens where he became the angel Metatron,” Laney said, recalling the Bible tales. 

Victoria nodded.  “Enoch was special. Part of that specialness is being reborn over and over again.”

Laney felt her jaw drop, but she couldn't speak.  Her eyes found Victoria's.  Victoria nodded at her, recognizing that Laney understood. 

Jake's head whipped back and forth between the two.  "Someone want to clue me in?"

“James Chandler was Enoch which means . . . ” Laney couldn’t finish the thought. Victoria was right.  It was too unbelievable. 

Victoria nodded.  “Yes.  Henry is the son of Enoch.”

Henry is the son of Enoch
. 

The words floated through Jake’s mind.  What the hell was going on?  This made absolutely no sense.  "I don't understand.  Enoch disappeared, what, before the great flood?  As in Old Testament times, at least ten thousand years ago, right?  And we’re supposed to believe that he was reincarnated as James Chandler?"

Jake looked to Laney for an explanation.  She sat staring straight ahead, her face frozen in shock.  Obviously she wasn't up for explaining anything at this moment.  He turned to Victoria.  "Well?"

Victoria gave him a small smile.  "It's true.  Enoch was Noah’s great grandfather.  He foretold of the flood that Noah would become famous for.”

Jake tamped down his impatience.  "Right.  Got that part.  Really smart, prophetic, old guy.  How does that relate to Henry?"

"One day, Enoch disappeared.  He was taken to heaven, in his human form.  As I said before, God enjoyed his company so much, he made him his scribe.  As much as Enoch loved being with God, he also loved being human.  As a gift, God allows him to visit earth from time to time."

Laney nodded.  “Edgar Cayce actually mentions Enoch.  He believed Enoch had lived many lives.”

"And what?”  Jake asked.  “He shacks up?"

"Jake," Laney said, shock on her face.

Victoria's eyes went cold.  "When he’s here, Enoch doesn’t know who he is until he’s a teenager.   And it’s actually his job to have children."

"Why?"

Victoria's eyes dropped from Jake’s.  "Enoch's children are special."

Laney joined the conversation.  "You mean they can read his writings."

Victoria nodded.  "Sometimes.  But Enoch’s children always have gifts.”  She stared at Laney as if trying to convey something deeper to her.

"What type of gifts?" Laney asked.

Victoria shrugged.  "It depends.  Henry obviously has the strength, the height."

"What about Enochian?  Can he read it?"

Victoria’s face was tight.  "Yes.” 

Jake felt his temper rear up. "Does Henry know who his father actually was?  Who he actually is?"

Victoria shook her head.  "No.  His father and I agreed-"

Jake's words lashed out.  "You let him walk around with a target on his back and didn't even warn him?  You let him wonder who he was, what he was?"

Victoria's words were just as angry.  "You don't get to judge me.  You haven’t lived the lives I have. You don’t get to sit there thinking you know better.  It was possible he would never need to know.  That his life would go on unencumbered by the truth."

"You could have prepared him-"

Victoria stood up.  "I did!  I prepared him as best I could without having him spend his life looking over his shoulder, feeling like he had to hide away from people." 

Tears shone in Victoria’s eyes, but her tone was angry.  "I died so he could live a normal life.  What would you have had me do, Jake?  Tell him he was different, that he wasn't human? Tell him people may come looking for him?  Deny him any chance of having a normal life?  Tell him he's the son of the most powerful angel ever?  What kind of life would that give him?"

Laney grabbed Jake's hand, keeping him silent.  He looked over at her and she shook her head.  "Jake . . ."

He took a breath, pulling back the anger.  Tears and anger flashed across Victoria’s eyes. 
Damn
.  "Victoria, I shouldn't have said those things.  Henry’s like a brother to me.  Him being in danger is obviously not bringing out the best in me."

Victoria nodded tersely.

Laney leaned forward.  "Why are you telling us this?  You died twenty years ago.  And no one has any clue you exist.  Why reveal yourself to us?  Why reveal who Henry is to us?”

Victoria took a deep breath.  “Henry was grabbed because of who his father was.  Because of the gift his father gave him.  If Henry reveals that gift, he can probably save himself.”

Laney felt her chest tighten.  But revealing that gift would mean helping the people who’d slaughtered hundreds in their quest.  “Henry won’t help them.”

“No.  He won’t.”  Victoria said quietly.  “And why am I revealing this to you two?  Because you need to know the rest of the story.  You need to know how Flourent knew about Henry.  You need to know about the Council.” 

Las Vegas, NV

Hugo went through the book, page-by-page, demanding Henry translate the symbols.  Henry said nothing.  And with every turn of the page, Henry tensed, knowing the pain was coming.  Hugo never disappointed him.

Henry healed fast, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel pain.  He could feel it.  Every last inch.  He glanced down to the floor, sticky with his blood.  He knew he would die before telling them anything the books said.  He didn’t care why they wanted the knowledge.  He wasn’t going to help them. 

He just hoped he could hold out.  But it was getting harder with each slice of Hugo’s knife.

The only blessing was that he had one distraction.  The book.  He could read every word.  The tome was about a peace treaty between the Children of the Law of One and the Sons of Belial.  In exchange for peace, the Children had agreed to share with the Sons what they knew of the Belial Stone.  A small note at the end indicated that, years later, the Sons killed Alian, the author of the work, when he refused to tell them how to turn the stone into a weapon. 

When the final page was turned, Sebastian stood up.  “You’re a disappointment, Mr. Chandler.”  He peered into Henry’s face.  “But I’m not convinced yet that you’re being entirely honest with us.”

Sebastian sat back down, his head resting on the spires of his fingers.  “Perhaps you need more incentive.  It seems clear you were never told who your father was.  I find that peculiar.  You must have noticed something odd about him.”

Henry stared at the old man.  What was he expecting?  An Oprah moment?  Did he want Henry to break down and beg him to tell him what he knew?  Not going to happen.  He clamped his mouth shut.  

  But, he had to admit, Sebastian’s words were having an effect.  Why hadn’t his mother ever told him who his father was?  Why hadn’t she warned him?  

Henry struggled to remember everything he could about him.  His father died when he was only six.  Even now, almost thirty years later, the memory of that night was difficult. 

He shied away from the emotions and focused on the details he could remember about him.  His Dad was tall, but not nearly as tall as Henry.  Henry remembered thinking his Dad was Batman and Superman rolled into one.  But didn’t every kid at that age think his Dad was a superhero? 

Looking back at his father through adult eyes, though, he was just a normal dad.  The only odd thing was that one world trip they’d taken the summer before his father died.  They’d been gone for six months and they’d visited everywhere: Asia, Africa, South America, Europe.  And everywhere they went, his father could speak the language.  It didn’t matter if they were in the remote regions of China or sub-Saharan Africa, whatever people they came across, his father could speak with them.  But what did that mean?  Who was he?

Frustration coursed through Henry.  He wanted to rail, scream, throw things.  But he was still bound to the damn cross.  He swallowed down the emotions, tasting their bitterness.  Closing his eyes, he locked his frustration away.  It was a practice he was all too familiar with. 

He blew out a breath.  He needed to focus on now.  He needed to keep up his resolve. 

He opened his eyes and started.  They’d all left.  He must have passed out.  Or maybe even fallen asleep.  No matter.  He was alone.  He reveled in the silence.

They’d left the book propped up on the table in front of him.  The electric tingle that had run over his body at the first sight of the book had turned into a warmth, as if his body was enveloped in a soft blanket.

But now a ball of cold began to form in his chest.  How did he know how to read the book?  He’d never in his life seen Enochian, never mind read it.  Yet he’d known as soon as he’d seen it that it was the language of the angels. 

A memory flashed at the back of his mind. It had something to do with his Mother. 

Henry stumbled down the stairs, wiping the sleep from his eyes.  He’d been up late studying for his algebra test.  He stifled a yawn as he walked into the kitchen.

His mother stood at the kitchen island, red hair pulled back in a ponytail, her green robe wrapped around her, a cup of coffee in her hands.  She pointed to the table.  “I’ve put out your breakfast.  Eat quick.  Ralph’s waiting to take you to school.”

Henry slumped into his seat.  Only fourteen, he was already six-foot-eight.  “Can’t I just take the bus?”

“We’ve had this conversation.  I agreed you could go to public school, but Ralph drives you there and back.” She glanced at the clock above the stove.  “Actually, never mind breakfast.  You don’t have time.”

Henry grabbed the bagel on his plate, dumping the eggs and bacon in between the two halves.  “Breakfast to go.”

Victoria smiled.  “Your books are over by the door.”

Henry walked over and kissed her cheek.  “Love you, Mom.”

“You, too, sweetie.”

He held his sandwich in one hand and went to grab his books on the counter.  He didn’t recognize the book on the top of the pile.  “Mom, this one’s not mine.”

She looked over.  “Oh?  What’s the title?”

He glanced down, a warmth enveloping him.  The letters seemed to swim before him.  He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again.  “The Fall of Man.  It’s in Greek, I think.”

She nodded.  “Oh.  That’s mine.  Just leave it.  Have a good day.”

The cold from his chest spread throughout his body.  She’d been testing him.  He’d never read Greek, but he could read that book title. She wanted to see if he could read it.  How had she known he had that ability?

An image of his father floated into his mind.  His father was good at languages and apparently so was he.  But why?  Who was his Dad?

The door opened and Hugo entered, followed by two other guards.  They took their spot beside the door.

Hugo swaggered over to the table where he kept his tools.  “Well, I had a great lunch.  And a good lunch like that always makes me feel energized.”  He swiped a six-inch serrated knife from the table, turning to Henry.  “Let’s start back at the top, shall we?”

Baltimore, MD

Laney was practically dizzy from all the information Victoria had shared with them.  Henry was the son of Enoch and he was taken because he could read the books. 

Now Laney understood Victoria’s little smile when Laney had asked if Henry could read Enochian.  It was a language literally named after Henry’s father.  But that still didn’t explain how the people who’d taken Henry had known about his parentage.

The black Escalade pulled back into the parking lot.  Victoria waved for the two men to stay where they were.  She turned back to Laney and Jake.  “Have either of you heard of the Council?”

Laney nodded, explaining what Dom had told them. 

“What does this have to do with Flourent?  How does he know about Henry?” Jake asked.

“The last Flourent who was a member of the Council was Sebastian’s father.  The Flourents believed themselves to be the true leaders of the group.  They wouldn’t listen to other members.  Sebastian was denied membership after his father’s death.  Allegedly all of his father’s Council notes burned in a fire at Flourent’s house.”

“But you don’t believe that, do you?” Jake asked.

Victoria shook her head.  “It’s too convenient.  I believe Sebastian has all of his father’s notes on the Council’s activities.  The reports date back centuries.”

“Okay.  But how does any of this relate to Henry’s father?”

“Victor Flourent was the Council member who sent men to take Henry’s father.  They failed.  And James was killed protecting us.”

“They knew the identity of Henry's father?"

“Yes.  But I thought that information was contained.  Victor was known for keeping his secrets.  He wouldn’t have revealed a prize like James.”

“Couldn’t he have told someone after the botched attempt?”

“Unlikely.  He was monitored and he didn’t have time.  He died the next day.”

“Well, that was a stroke of luck,” Jake said. 

Victoria looked him straight on.  “There was nothing lucky about it.  I killed him.”

Laney struggled to keep the shock off her face.  Victoria had had Sebastian Flourent’s father killed?  And the way she said it.  She’d admitted to murder with the same level of emotion as ordering a cup of coffee.

“I can see you’re surprised,” Victoria said to her.