by R. D. Brady
She walked slowly, deciding to take the long way to the main house. All the facts they had gathered rolled through her mind as she searched for connections. Assuming Gerard was right, psychics would enable someone to target the Fallen and their companions without being detected. She had to admit, such an ability would increase the chances that a human could outmaneuver a Fallen.
She frowned. But it couldn’t be a person; it would have to be far more than one. It would have to be an entire network, seeing as the murders were strewn across the globe. And an undertaking that large would require organization, commitment, and, above all, money.
Her phone rang. It was Matt, and only ten minutes had passed. “Matt?”
“They are being targeted,” Matt said without preamble.
Laney stopped walking. “How many?”
“We only had a chance to do a quick search. But I got a dozen hits. We tracked the Fallen’s movements and their deaths, and I put in the characteristics from the companion murders. Some details popped up that suggest a connection.”
“What popped in particular?”
“The heart being removed.”
“Well, but that would be the only way to kill them.” Laney knew they could recover from drowning and bloodletting. But heart removal would end them. “Is the heart burned?”
“No, but I think that may have more to with the situations. The Fallen deaths all attracted some attention. I don’t think they had the chance to burn the heart. But they did keep it. The heart was missing from every crime scene.”
“Well, that’s lovely.”
“Most crime scenes weren’t as private as those of the companion murders, so perhaps they just didn’t have time to complete the ritual, at least there. There were even some eyewitnesses, who all report that the victims were assaulted by a group of people, not just one individual.”
“Well, that jibes with what I’ve been thinking. Can I speak with some of the witnesses?”
“I can do you one better—one of the targets escaped. I’m going to give him a call, but I’m sure he’ll speak with you.”
Laney had reached the main house and pulled open the door. “Send me the address and all the case files.”
“Consider it done.”
Laney pocketed her phone. She felt tired at the mere thought of going through a whole new batch of gruesome crime scenes photos.
Her steps were heavy as she made her way up to Henry’s office. She pushed open the door, and Henry, Jake, and Jen looked up from the coffee table near Henry’s desk, where they were all working.
Laney took a seat next to Jen on the couch. “So, I have some news.”
Jen pushed away the file of papers in front of her. “Good. Because I would like to sleep again, and these photos are not going to help with that.”
Laney told them about the phone call from Gerard, Patrick’s ideas about psychic abilities among the Honu Keiki, and Matt’s information on the Fallen being targeted.
“Matt’s information does line up with what Cain said,” Jen admitted grudgingly.
Jake shook his head. “I’m not sure I buy that these are connected. I mean, I realize they’re happening at the same time, but—”
“It’s the same MO though,” Laney said. “Or at least as close as you can get with a Fallen.”
“True,” Jake said.
“So, should we reach out to Honu Keiki? See what they know?” Jen asked.
Henry shook his head. “It’s not enough. My contacts say it’s incredibly difficult to communicate with the group. We need something very solid before we even attempt it, because I have the feeling we’ll only get one attempt.”
Laney nodded. “I agree. I mean, yes, they sound like they could be the group. But honestly, any new age cult would be described almost identically. If we go to them with what we have now, they’ll just laugh at us. We need more.”
Her phone beeped, and she looked at the text. It was an address from Matt in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
“I’ll keep digging,” Henry said. “See if there’s any leverage we can use to get them to speak with us.”
Laney turned to Jake. “Could you look into the psychic angle?
“Me?” he asked.
“Well, you’re the least likely to believe what you read. I think that kind of skepticism is what we need.”
Jake grimaced. “Great. Sounds like fun.”
“Thanks. And Jen—how do you feel about taking a little visit to Ann Arbor?” Laney asked.
“I’m always up for a road trip. But what are we going to do?”
“Visit with a Fallen,” Laney said, her eyes on Jake.
Jake’s jaw tightened. Catching Laney’s gaze, though, he just shrugged. “Sorry. Have fun. Or whatever the correct sentiment is for this kind of trip. And try not to get into too much trouble.”
“Trouble? Us?” Jen asked, her eyes wide.
Henry laughed. “I’ll let the accountants know there may be some property damage we’ll have to cover down there.”
“Where’s the faith?” Laney grumbled.
CHAPTER 41
Ann Arbor, Michigan
The GPS beeped to let them know they had arrived. Laney pulled over to the side of the street behind an old blue minivan. She stared out the window across the street.
“This can’t possibly be right,” Jen said.
Laney pulled out her phone and double-checked the address. The building was brown brick with large tinted windows. Double doors were located next to a sign that read “Temple Beth-El.”
Matt had sent them to a synagogue.
Laney laughed and shook her head.
“What?” Jen asked.
She gestured across the street. “I keep making assumptions, and they keep getting turned on their head. I mean we know Fallen come in all size and shapes; why not denominations?”
“Well, let’s go meet this Fallen,” Jen said.
They got out of the car, and Laney looked around. The synagogue was bookended by a florist and a bank. Across the street was a diner. There was no one around on foot, but a steady flow of cars drove along the street.
Running her thumb over the ring on her finger, she started to cross the street. An electric tingle rolled over her skin, and she stilled, her eyes raking the scene. “Jen.”
Jen went from unconcerned to on guard in a moment.
Laney scanned the church grounds and the street, but didn’t see anyone.
“Lanes?” Jen asked.
Laney didn’t look back at her, keeping her attention on the area around them. Matt had said the Fallen was a good guy, but experience warned Laney to keep her guard up. “There’s a Fallen here somewhere, but I’m not sure exactly where.”
“Do you think he’s inside?”
Something told her the Fallen wasn’t inside the church but next to it. She nodded to the side of the building. They crossed the street, and Jen fell in step next to Laney as she followed a path around the side of the building.
They came upon a white-haired man kneeling in a small garden, pulling weeds. He wore a large straw hat, and a basket of garden tools sat next to him. He turned quickly and sized Laney and Jen up in a second, but his gaze focused on Jen. As a Fallen, he knew what Jen was; he’d view her as the bigger threat.
Laney tensed, and Jen did the same, pulling back her jacket to place her hand on the gun there and reveal her badge.
The man rose to his feet, a nervous smile on his face as he pulled off his gloves. His eyes shifted between Laney and Jen. “Dr. McPhearson?”
Laney nodded. “That’s me.”
“I’m Xavier Alejandro.”
Xavier was about five foot six with skin tanned and wrinkled from the sun. He squinted, but his eyes showed a warmth and compassion that was both comforting and disconcerting. He was not at all what Laney had expected.
Xavier extended his hand. “Agent Clark told me you’d be coming.”
Laney hesitated, then shook his hand. “Uh, this is my associate, Dr. Jenni
fer Witt.”
Xavier looked at Jen but didn’t offer his hand—no doubt due to Jen’s expression, which suggested she’d rather shoot him than befriend him. Xavier gestured behind him. “There’s a gazebo with a table out back. Perhaps we could talk there?”
“Lead the way,” Laney said.
Xavier walked to the back, and they followed. Ahead was a gazebo, just as Xavier said.
Jen tugged on Laney’s sleeve. “I’m going to stay here, keep an eye out.”
“Okay. “ Laney continued to the gazebo and took a seat across from Xavier. He nodded to his thermos. “I have some iced tea, if you’d like.”
“No, I’m fine.”
Xavier clasped his hands in front of him. “Agent Clark said you had some questions for me.”
Laney nodded. “Yes. But first, tell me how you know Agent Clark.”
Xavier placed his hat on the bench next to him, then poured himself a glass. His bright eyes and tanned skin made him appear younger, but up close Laney thought he was probably closer to seventy than sixty. He took a long drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry. Been out in the sun for a while. You sure I can’t offer you some?”
“No, I’m fine. But thank you.”
Xavier leaned back, eyeing her. “You know what I am?”
Laney nodded. “Yes, I am well acquainted with people with your skills.”
He let out a small laugh, one filled with more bitterness than warmth. “My skills. A diplomatic choice of words.” He fell silent and looked away.
“Agent Clark?” she prodded.
His gaze shifted back to her, his head nodding in apology. “Yes, Agent Clark. I only met him about ten years or so ago, although I came to the attention of the SIA almost fifty years ago. I was living in Palo Alto. At the time, I was in college and working construction to pay tuition. There was an accident on the site. A crane fell. It landed on the trailer where my boss and a few of my friends were meeting. They were trapped. I pushed the crane off. No one at the site ever realized it was me.”
“But when the SIA showed up, they knew it was you.”
“Yes. You know how it works? The sense?”
She nodded, realizing Xavier didn’t know her role in everything. He thought she was an agent without abilities.
“Well, an agent came out, and he sensed me as soon as he stepped onto the construction site. I sensed him too.”
“Did you know who, or rather what, you were?”
He shook his head. “No. I grew up knowing what I could do. I thought God had blessed me. My family, we are very religious. And I’d never come across anyone else like me.”
“What did the agent do?”
“He asked me about my life, spoke with different people about me. Checked me out to see what kind of person I was.”
“Did he tell you what you were?”
“Not at first. He told me that his agency was responsible for watching people with abilities. He said they didn’t know why people had them, but that it was important it be kept secret.”
“So when did you find out?”
He sighed and looked away. “About six or seven years later, I was getting married. I had kept in touch with the agent and sent him an invitation to the wedding. He arrived on my doorstep the next day. He explained what I really was and what my children could be.”
“What did you do?”
He clasped his mug tightly, his eyes downcast. “I broke the heart of the woman I loved. The agent explained that other people might come for me. That not only could I be in danger, but so could Angela, or our future children, if anyone learned what I could do. If anyone even sensed what I could do.” He shook his head. “I loved Angela too much. I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t risk her.”
“You left her?”
He nodded. “The agent arranged for me to leave. I moved across the country to Indianapolis. I worked for a church there until two weeks ago.”
“A church?”
Xavier nodded. “I thought about becoming a priest, but it felt wrong, being who I am.”
Laney wasn’t so sure of that. The man sitting in front of her seemed to be the picture of redemption. He kind of reminded her of her uncle. “How did you end up here? Did the SIA help you?”
“No. The church did.”
Laney reared back in surprise. “Did the church know who you were?”
“I didn’t think so. But after I was attacked, they arranged for me to work here. They must have known.”
Laney filed that away. The church had actively hidden a Fallen for decades, and somehow convinced a synagogue to do the same. That was interesting—but it was a fact to focus on at another time. “What can you tell me about the attack?”
Xavier shook his head. “I don’t know why they came after me. I had gone into the city; there was a flower market that I liked. I was just picking up supplies, like any other day. I had finished and was packing up my truck. Then I walked to the diner I always went to when I was in that part of town. They came at me when I crossed under the train tracks. I’d never seen any of them before.”
“Were they Fallen? Nephilim?”
“No. They were human. Eight of them. They came at me fast. I had no warning. I managed to leap to the platform. I didn’t want to hurt them. I didn’t think they knew what I could do to them. It’s a bad neighborhood, and I just thought they were gang members or something. But there were more of them on the platform. One got me with a knife—a woman with a stroller. When I first got onto the platform, I had yelled at her to run, even shielded her when they came up the stairs. That’s when I saw the stroller was empty. She got me in the back. If I had been,” he paused, stumbling over the word, “human, I would have been dead. I threw myself from the platform onto a train. It spirited me away, and by the time I reached the next stop, I had healed enough to run. So I did.”
“Did your attackers say anything?”
He shook his head. “Not a word.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“The woman, when she stabbed me, the sleeve of her shirt pulled up, and I saw a tattoo.”
“What did it look like?”
Xavier reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He removed a folded piece of paper and handed it to Laney. On it was three stripes with what looked like vines wrapped around them. In the center was a flower with large petals and an intricate stigma.
“I looked it up,” Xavier said. “I think it’s a lotus blossom.”
“Signifying rebirth or awakening,” Laney said softly.
Xavier’s eyebrows rose. “You’re familiar with it?”
Laney thought of the description of the Buddha-like figure that was alleged to have been in the cave in the Grand Canyon where’s she’d rescued the children not that long ago. There are always connections. “I’ve come across it before.”
“Do you know if it’s important?”
She shook her head. “No. But I plan on finding out.”
CHAPTER 42
Malama Island, Hawaii
Palm trees lined the meditation space. Aaliyah sat in the square, surrounded by over a hundred people. They all sat in the lotus position on colorful mats: legs crossed, feet resting on opposite thighs, hands on knees. A light wind blew, and the sky was blue overhead.
Aaliyah focused on her breathing, envisioning each breath filling her lungs, reaching through her body to give energy to every portion.
At the front of the square a gong rang out, and Aaliyah opened her eyes. She looked around, amazed at how fast the thirty minutes had gone.
Next to her, Ioane turned and smiled. He had been one of Aaliyah’s favorite teachers when she was younger. Over the years, she’d often found herself using his techniques when she taught. She hoped she had his kindness. Even now, when his eyesight had begun to fade, that kindness still shone in his deep brown eyes.
She dipped her head to him and returned the smile. He started to stand, struggling a bit. Of course, seei
ng as he was one hundred and two, that wasn’t really surprising.
Aaliyah placed her hand under his arm to help him up, then reached down and rolled up his mat for him. Handing it over, she said, “Have a wonderful morning, Ioane.”
“Thank you, Aaliyah. And you as well.” Ioane wandered off with the crowd heading for the docks. She knew he liked to feed the birds and fish in the morning.
What an amazing man. No one would guess his age. It was only in the last year that he had begun to have problems with his joints. Even then, he swore the group meditations helped with that.
And they probably did. Aaliyah had often been amazed at how refreshed she felt after a session of meditation, and the effect was more pronounced with the group session. Only now was the outside world beginning to recognize the benefits of meditation in reducing blood pressure, improving immune systems, reducing stress, and reducing the impact of negative life events. But Aaliyah’s people had known about these benefits for a long time. Every morning and evening, the Honu Keiki engaged in group meditation. Everyone who could attend did—although it was not unusual to find someone meditating alone up in the hills that surrounded the island.
Created from a volcano thousands of years ago, Malama was essentially the crater of a long-dead volcano. Lush vegetation covered the island year round, and most people were drawn to meditate at least once a day in that outdoor beauty. The island was thirty square miles, and the residences only took up about half of that, leaving the rest gloriously untamed.
Aaliyah, however, preferred the group meditations. There was a power within the group that enhanced her ability to focus.
Not to mention how well it enhanced her other ability.
Aaliyah was rolling up her own mat when she heard her name being called.
Eighteen-year-old Noriko made her way through the crowd. The sun highlighted the light brown streaks in her dark hair. Her pale eyes were unusual on the island; most people had the traditional dark hair and dark eyes. But her eyes were not what made Noriko stand out. She exuded energy, and she had a smile for everyone she passed.
