The Belial Origins (8 page)

CHAPTER 19

“H
ey, Laney,” Maddox said from the doorway.

Laney glanced up in surprise. “Hey. Tell Kati I’ll be right out.”

Maddox laughed. “Laney, we finished eating an hour ago.”

“What?” Laney glanced at the clock above the desk. Almost two hours had passed since Kati had been in here. “Wow. Sorry. I totally lost track of time.”

“Gripping reading?”

“Actually, yeah.”

She had been going through more of the Council records from Flourent’s home. And she’d found more references to a woman who looked incredibly like Victoria. But the journals didn’t hint at an actual identification.

But that wasn’t the biggest surprise in the books. Jorgen was in there—a lot. In most of the drawings, his eyes had been covered, but in some they weren’t—and they were pitch black, just like she remembered.

“Well, Kati, Max, and I are heading back to the cottage. Max said he wants to take a nap,” Maddox said.

“Really? He usually fights tooth and nail to
avoid
a nap. Is he getting sick?”

Maddox shrugged. “I’m not sure. He’s been having some trouble sleeping at night.”

“Why?”

“Nightmares.”

Laney felt pressure in her chest.
Damn it.

Pain crossed Maddox’s face as well. Laney knew that Maddox would do whatever he could to protect Max. But he couldn’t protect him from his own subconscious. And Max had been through more trauma than any little boy should ever have to bear.

Maddox shook off his concern. “But we’ll put him down for a nap and see how he’s doing when he gets up. See you later?”

“Yeah. See you later,” Laney echoed as Maddox turned to leave.

Goodbye, Laney.
Max’s words floated through her mind, and a chill ran down her spine. She shrugged it off. Max was fine. He was with Kati and Maddox and on the estate. No one would be able to get to Max, because everyone on the estate would fight to the death to keep him safe.

Laney turned back to the books.
So why do I feel so worried?

She lined up the journals on the desk. She had about four more to read, but she was pretty sure her uncle had already read those. She thought back on their conversation from this morning.

It wasn’t possible, was it? Her mind twisted the information they had learned, pulling it this way and that, looking for an alternative. But nothing came.

Her stomach growled, and she shook her head, clearing it.
Okay. Food—then back to work.

She stood up and stretched. She’d been at it since yesterday, only taking time off to sleep, and even that had been more just resting her eyelids than actually sleeping.

Guilt at her inability to find Victoria weighed her down. They had yet to find even a single lead. They had traced the SUVs that had been used in Maine, but they had all been stolen just before the abduction. There had been no ransom demands. No sign of either Ralph or Victoria. Jen had even paid the head of the Council another visit. But they all agreed he wasn’t behind this; he was too scared of Henry and Jen to do anything this gutsy.

And of course they’d tried to find Jorgen Fuld—but he’d dropped off the grid again. They knew Jorgen had taken Victoria.

Laney frowned.
Which makes no sense
. Jorgen seemed to be very good at hiding himself. So why had he stuck his head out so blatantly to get Victoria?
It’s almost like he
wants
us to find him. Or at least wants us to know he has her.

Laney shook her head and picked up one of the journals, then headed to Dom’s kitchen. She didn’t feel hungry, but she knew she needed to keep her strength up.
Lord knows I’ll probably be sprinting across a parking lot soon, avoiding gunfire in some town I’ve never heard of.

Laney had just finished warming up some meatloaf when the bomb shelter blast door beeped. She pulled the hot plate out of the microwave and had just placed it on the counter when Henry and Jake appeared.

They made their way over to Laney and eyed her plate.

“Any chance there’s more of that?” Henry asked.

Laney noted that a little color had returned to Henry’s cheeks. She nodded. “I think I could rustle up a couple more plates.”

Jake hugged her. “I’ve got a woman who cooks. I’m a lucky man.”

She hugged him back. “You’ve got a woman who microwaves. Be content.”

Henry and Jake got the drinks and silverware together, and Laney warmed up three more servings, just in case anyone else showed up. Sure enough, as soon as they sat down, Dom appeared. And for a few moments, everything was normal. Just a family having a meal together. By unwritten agreement, no one mentioned Victoria.

Finally, the dishes were cleared away and Dom disappeared back into his lab. “Anything new?” Laney asked.

Henry shook his head. “No, not really. Both the Fallen and Jorgen have gone to ground. Of course, they both seem to have incredible resources, so I’m not all that surprised.”

Jake clapped Henry on the shoulder. “We’ll find her.”

Henry nodded, looking around. “Where’s Patrick?”

“Right here.” Laney’s uncle appeared from the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Patrick had been exhausting himself trying to find something on Victoria. It was only a few hours ago that Laney had finally forced him to go take a nap. And even with the short rest, his already pale complexion looked unusually colorless, and his blue eyes looked exhausted. Laney’s uncle and Victoria had formed a bond over the last few months. And Laney knew that her disappearance was affecting him as much as it was the rest of them.

Henry stood up, offering Patrick his chair.

Patrick waved him back. “I’ve been sitting all morning. It feels good to stretch my legs.”

Laney stood and gave him a hug. “Are you hungry?”

“No. I’m fine.” He glanced at Henry and Jake, who were busy clearing the table. He spoke quietly, his eyes on Laney. “Did you find anything else?”

Laney shook her head, speaking just as quietly. “Nothing different.”

Patrick nodded, his shoulders drooping. “I was hoping we were wrong.”

“Me too.”

Laney re-took her seat and looked up at her uncle. “Henry and Jake were just asking about our progress on the books.”

Laney knew her uncle hated to give out incomplete information. He liked to find all the necessary information, synthesize it, and only then return a verdict. But right now, they needed to take some leaps if they were going to find Victoria.

Patrick nodded. “It’s interesting.”

Henry and Jake looked at him expectantly.

Laney bit back her smile, knowing her uncle was lost in his own thoughts. “Uncle Patrick?”

They’d spoken this morning in detail about their conclusions, but Laney had wanted more time. Now that time was up—and nothing new had come to light.

Patrick started. “Oh, sorry. Well, like I said, it’s interesting. The books are from the Council, as you know. It’s their record of their different searches throughout time for the relics and riches of Atlantis. And what we’ve found is that Victoria—or at least someone who
looks
like Victoria—is seen throughout the books.
All
the books.”

Henry frowned. “How’s that possible?”

Patrick shook his head. “I don’t know. And they don’t seem to either. She appears, and they note that she’s involved with people associated with the relics. But all they seem to know about her is her name.”

“And let me guess: different names?” Jake asked.

Laney nodded. “She appears in different times and even at different ages, but there’s no denying it’s her.”

Jake frowned. “What do you mean different ages? Like different eras?”

“No, I mean her own age.” Patrick gave Laney an encouraging nod. She took a breath. This was the part of the reveal she had been dreading. “The youngest we’ve seen her in the books is around the age of fourteen. The oldest, probably in her eighties.”

Henry started beside her. “Her eighties?”

Laney’s look showed that she shared Henry’s confusion. “I know—I don’t understand it either.”

“Could it be someone who just looks like her?” Henry asked.

Patrick shrugged, but his tone conveyed his doubt. “I suppose, but the similarity is too striking. And again and again, throughout history, always involved with these relics? No. It’s her.”

“The earliest record in any of the books is from the year 1118,” Laney said. “Victoria, or her doppelganger, is first mentioned in 1234. Then again in 1456 and 1619, and several dates after that.”

“How many mentions of her have you found?” Henry asked.

Laney swallowed. “Since 1118, she’s appeared in the book at least eight times.”

Everyone was silent for moment while they digested that. Finally Jake spoke. “So what does that mean?”

Laney glanced over at Patrick again. He nodded. They’d debated this point time and time again, but had always circled back to the same conclusion. Laney took a deep breath. “It means she’s lived at least eight lives. That we know of.”

CHAPTER 20

H
enry and Jake both looked shocked. And Laney couldn’t blame them. She had probably looked the same way the first time she’d seen the double of Victoria in the books. But unlike Henry and Jake, she’d now had a little time to get used to the idea.

“So what are you saying? She’s immortal?” Jake asked.

Patrick shook his head. “No. Like I said, in the journals she’s different ages. But it does appear as if she’s lived quite a few lives.”

“From what we can tell,” Laney said, “she lives a full life and then comes back in the next one looking exactly the same. Usually in a different country.”

“How is that possible?” Henry asked.

Jake raised his eyebrows. “Really? You have a sister who’s a half angel, who can control the Fallen, animals, and the weather. You’re a half angel as well. Your father was one of the all-time most powerful angels. You, Laney, and I are part of some triad that appears when the Fallen are making a play for global domination, and yet the idea that your mother has lived a few times is stretching believability?”

A smile flashed briefly across Henry’s face. “Okay, when you put it that way. My mother is some type of immortal being who has lived thousands of lifetimes. No problem.”

Laney smiled too, but the smile disappeared just as quickly as it had from Henry’s. They had wondered about Victoria for a long time, and the truth was, they were still just guessing. But this explanation made a certain amount of sense. Victoria knew too much about the Fallen. And when she spoke of the past, she always sounded like she had been an eyewitness.

But nowhere in the books did anyone say
what
she was—angel, human, alien. The journal writers appeared as stumped as they were.

“There’s something else,” Patrick said.

“What?” Jake asked.

“There was one other person who kept appearing in the books multiple times over the centuries,” Laney said softly.

“You mean like Mom? Different ages, different time periods?” Henry asked.

Patrick shook his head. “No. This man—he’s always the same age.”

“Who is he?” Jake asked.

“We know him as Jorgen Fuld,” Laney said.

Jake’s and Henry’s eyes grew wide.

“Wait, did you say the same age?” Jake asked.

“Yes.” Laney glanced back at her uncle, who nodded at her. She turned to Henry and Jake. “Did you two notice when Jorgen had his glasses knocked off at the airfield?”

“I saw it happen. Why?” Henry asked.

“Did you notice his eyes?” Laney asked.

Jake shook his head. “Wasn’t really a priority at the moment.”

“I know. It’s just—” Laney hesitated. “I saw them. And they were pitch black.”

Henry frowned. “So he had dark eyes. I don’t get the significance.”

Laney pictured Fuld’s eyes again. She was confident in what she had seen. “No. Not dark. There was absolutely no white in them. None at all.”

“It must have been a trick of the light,” Jake said.

“That’s what I thought at first.”

Laney picked up the journal she had brought in with her and turned to the page she had marked. She turned it around so Henry and Jake could see. The man in the picture was undeniably Fuld. Everything was the same, right down to the haircut. The only difference was the style of clothes.

And in the drawing, his eyes were pure black.

Henry looked at Laney. “Are all the pictures like this?”

Patrick nodded slowly. “Usually his eyes are covered. But when they’re not, this is how they’re depicted. Without fail.”

“Is there any medical condition that can account for that? Some genetic mutation?” Henry asked.

Laney shook her head. “Not that I could find. The only way to get completely black eyes, including the sclera, is through black contacts.”

“And I’m guessing we don’t think Jorgen was wearing contacts,” Jake said.

“I can’t see him going through the pageantry of black lenses, especially seeing as he wears those sunglasses all the time,” Laney said. “I think his eyes are real.”

“In the books, he’s sometimes referred to as the Shepherd,” Patrick said. “The Shepherd” was the name he went by when he instructed Nathaniel Grayston to kidnap potential nephilim and Fallen a few months ago.

“How far back do the references go?” Jake asked.

“Same as Victoria. Back to the first journal we have—twelfth century.”

“So is he immortal?” Jake asked, disbelief lacing his words.

Laney shrugged. “Either he’s immortal, or he has a really,
really
strong genetic line.”

“Well, seeing as everyone at the airport was trying to avoid shooting him, I’m not surprised he’s lived this long,” Jake said.

Patrick went still. “What did you say?”

Jake looked at Patrick. “At the airport, no one shot at him. Bullets were flying all over the place, but it seemed like everyone was intentionally trying to avoid hitting him.”

“Are you sure?” Patrick asked.

Henry and Jake exchanged a look before Henry spoke. “Actually, when Jake and I went back over the footage, we realized one shooter—one of Jorgen’s own men—did get him, although apparently it was accidental. And then that shooter was shot.”

“How many times was the shooter hit?” Patrick asked, his eyes intent.

“Seven times,” Jake said slowly. “But actually he wasn’t shot by bullets.”

“What?” Three sets of eyes turned to Jake.

Jake put up his hands. “It was strange. I asked the M.E. to check again, which is why I didn’t tell you guys. When the M.E. opened him up, there were no bullets—just wounds. And there was no path for the bullets to have followed. The M.E. said it was like the wounds just appeared. But the M.E. must have made a mistake.”

During Jake’s speech, Laney had kept her eyes on her uncle. With each word Jake spoke, Patrick had gotten paler and paler. “Uncle Patrick?”

“I’m sure I’m wrong,” he began.

Everyone went still. Those words were always followed by some insight that the rest of them had missed. And Patrick was always right on target.

“Who is he, Uncle Patrick?” Laney asked quietly.

Patrick swallowed. “I can’t be sure.”

“Uncle Patrick,” she said, a warning in her tone. She knew he would want to check and re-check before saying anything, but with Victoria in danger, they didn’t have the time for that.

Patrick pulled out a chair and all but fell into it. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were bright. “The man that shot Jorgen was shot himself seven times—sevenfold the injury he created. And his eyes are black as night, something that would stop anyone in their tracks.”

Recognition tickled the back of Laney’s mind. Sevenfold. She’d heard that before. She gasped as the reference hit her. Her gaze flew to her uncle.

He nodded at her. “I think Jorgen Fuld is Cain.”