by Angela White
So what happened to the descendants that the Cathars died to protect? According to the Gospel of Mary, many escaped and walk among us, even now, in the form of their offspring. Most of the Knights were for the truth coming out, were beginning to rebel against the Church, as well. They were wiped out the same way the Cathars were, but stories abound of a few brave souls being able to save the precious remaining descendants, ensuring the bloodline of Jesus Christ. With the Church hunting them down, these groups of saviors went into hiding with their wards. When they finally emerged, they called themselves the Freemasons…and they were powerful.
If this new Gospel is to be believed, none of them exposed the truth. There were various groups of Templar’s in unnamed places around the world, but the secret held–because of power and greed. Mary Magdalene’s offspring were Merovingian rulers now, and the temptation was too much. Instead of being the defenders, the Freemasons had become the captors. According to the Gospel of Mary, the descendants of Christ were forced to reproduce with the Knights. Only the special offspring were kept, and the parchment even suggests that inbreeding was one of the common experiments tried in hopes of making the kids more gifted.
Skeptics are coming out of the woodwork, but so far, no one has disproven the new allegations of a corrupt political system that traces its origins back further than just one nation’s founding. If the Gospel is proven genuine, it could possibly mean that every president America has ever had was a descendant of Christ and was bred–not raised, but bred–for that very purpose. The same would be true of other governments across the globe.
A very outspoken civil rights leader, who didn’t want to be named due to safety concerns, explained why governments around the world might have taken these actions of secrecy and coercion:
“Imagine how different our lives would have been if the existence of Jesus Christ were fact, proven by science. Consider how much control the legitimate churches would have had over the masses. Laws, education, politics, careers, art, music, literature, lifestyles–it all would have been ruled by religion. Ask yourself if the governments–and yes, all of them; no one group of people can successfully hide a conspiracy this size–ask yourself if the leaders you’ve been listening to would still be in charge right now if it was a documented fact that our Lord and Savior walked this very earth. Wouldn’t those governments have been the first ones Jesus fed to those hungry lions? Is there anything they wouldn’t have done to stop it from happening?”
What if these children of Mary and Christ have been betrayed repeatedly, killed in every generation to hide the truth, when we could have been basking in their light? How different might our world have been.
Endnotes
1. Read the entire article in the Extras section.
2. DOC is an abbreviation for Descendants of Christ.
3. Mine Resistant Ambush Protected vehicle.
4. Gat is Marine slang for a 9mm.
5. Hardback can mean a cargo truck or MRAP vehicle; slang.
6. Charbucks is any coffee that isn’t Starbucks; slang.
7. The Essex is a fictional government bunker set in the Granite Mountains of Wyoming. This came from NORAD no longer being the preferred presidential and joint chief evacuation site as of 9/11. That new location has not been revealed.
8. A boot is a junior Marine fresh from basic training. Also, it is an unforgivable insult when used seriously.
9. FUBAR stands for f’’’’d up beyond all repair.
10. Calling a Marine “soldier” will cause frowns, mutters, and sometimes a fight. They go through very demanding training to earn the title of Marine and are quick to defend it.
11. During research, I was informed that a Hum-vee is what a badass grunt used to roll around in. A Hummer, on the other hand, is something received from a generous girlfriend…
12. “M9s are often issued to those who don’t take care of them. They get used as hammers, and generally by the time they get to the pistol range, [they] jam, fail, and generally suck like a Hoover.” – ZS Quote.
13. Pogue bait is slang for candy. In the derogatory sense, it can also mean a woman intent on grabbing a successful man.
14. Dog Tag. You’ll notice this has been singular throughout the book. That’s because the other tag is laced into a Marine’s left boot for identification if they are killed. It is SOP and ingrained.
Character Bios
Adrian Mitchel is a lifelong Marine with a huge secret, one that might have prevented the war. Full of guilt he can never be free of, Adrian is driven, obsessed with gathering enough survivors to restart his broken country.
Samantha Moore is a storm tracker. Born with a gift that allows her to predict bad weather, Sam led a sheltered life before the bombs fell, and her road to Adrian’s camp is full of pain and horror as she struggles to adjust.
Angela White is many things: doctor, battered woman, mother, and witch. She long ago locked up her powers to keep her man from using them for his own gain, but the war freed the demon inside, and now it is her best defense as she tries to cross the broken country in search of her missing son.
Kenn Harrison is a Marine adrift when he joins Safe Haven. An angry man with secrets, his months of trials at Adrian’s patriotic side have begun to change him, but what will happen to all the progress he’s made when Angela finally comes for her son?
Marc Brady has been in love with Angela since they were kids. Split up as teenagers, he had no idea they created a baby. He can’t wait to get to know his son, but it’s the thought of being with Angie again that sends him running to answer her call for help.
Kendle Roberts is a famous TV star, but the survival goddess wasn’t prepared for the wave that rolled her cruise ship and left her adrift on the restless ocean with no land in sight. For two months.
John Harmon has been a doctor for over forty years. He is sure he has terminal cancer and his wife pretends not to know, so they can set off to find safety so that one of them can die and one of them can live.
These are your heroes. Welcome to Life After War.
All Angela White Books
Life After War Series
The Survivors
Adrian’s Eagles
Nuclear Ashes
Dystopian Stand
Fight for Survival
Carved in Stone
Shattered Dreams
Dearly Departed
LAW Backstories
Marc and Angie
Marc and Dog
Related to LAW
The Alexa’s Travels series
Other Books by Angela White
The Bachelor Battles Trilogy
HOP-17: Human Origins Program
Life After War
Adrian’s Eagles
Book 2
by
Angela White
Title: Adrian’s Eagles
Book 2 of the Life After War series
Edition: 2017
Length: 830 pages
Author: ©Angela White
Publisher: C9 Publications
ISBN#: 978-1-9459-2704-1
Copyright © 1991 by Angela White.
All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form without the prior written consent of Angela White or C9 Publications. Made in the USA.
C9 Publications
http://www.c9publications.com/
Table of Contents
Hook, Line, & Sinker
Island Drama
Troopers & Trackers
Fists at Dawn
Liquid Steel
The Madness Spreads
That’s a Pass
Welcome to My Army
Snap, Rumble, & Wait
Best Served Cold
Tropical Heat
Hard Lessons
Playing with Fire
Taken Twice
Leveled Playing
The Killin’ Fields
Timing is Everything…
X Mark
s the Spot
Adrift in Hell
Third Time’s a Charm
Tick Tock, Hands on a Clock…
All Hell’s Day
All Hell’s Night
The Cost of Freedom
Extras Section
Chapter One
Hook, Line, and Sinker
April 6th
On 34, near Union Center, South Dakota
1
“Do not kill him.”
Cesar’s guerillas had the lone man surrounded before the gold convertible was fully stopped.
Allowing it, Dean’s harsh countenance dared one of them to make the mistake of touching him. He had come to talk, but like a wounded animal, he would kill right now with little provocation. There was no doubt these men had heard everything over the CB and the waves of energy shooting from the witch would have been impossible to miss. The slaver now had his proof of their words.
Cesar considered these things as he strode toward the black man who’d been sitting in the center of the muddy, abandoned site when they pulled in. It was Safe Haven’s latest area and Cesar didn’t like it that the twin knew him well enough to predict where he would show up.
The guerilla leader had been certain both brothers were dead, and from the look of the grieving man in the cold center of camp, he guessed only one of them had survived the encounter. It served them right for trying to take her alone.
Why would Dean come? Vengeance for his brother? To try to take over his men and attack recklessly? Cesar did not intend to kill the brother if he could avoid it. After viewing and hearing Safe Haven’s protectors, he now wanted every deadly hand he could get. There was no doubt that Dean was that and more. Still, Dean had to know who was in charge.
“You should have called uz. We could have taken her from a group that size.”
Dean’s face was a mask of hatred that Cesar was careful to ignore for the moment. Business came first. There would be time for lessons later.
“We had an opening and took it. They weren’t away from the others long enough for you to get there.”
José glared at the disrespect, moving closer to his cousin.
Cesar shrugged, stretching tiredly. “The only thing that matters is what you planned to do once you had her.”
Dean glowered up from his seat on the muddy ground, not feeling the sting of the cold wind as it swept over them. “Get our share of the pie.”
Cesar frowned, unfamiliar with the saying, and the twin blew out a sigh of disgusted contempt. “Her first orders would have been to destroy that camp. Yours was next if you came for her.”
José drew his pistol and stepped forward, but Cesar laughed and waved his second in command away.
“Yo hermano was the balls, si?”
“Always.”
“Now, maybe you are both.”
Cesar extended a hand that Dean took warily, letting the slaver help him up.
“Come. Let us share a whore in your brother’s honor and I will tell you about the team I sent to get the tank. They are closing in. We will meet Safe Haven in the middle.”
2
Dawn was still an hour away when Angela sat up with a fast jerk, unaware of the men flinching at the movement. Her nightmare had drawn them and they listened, worried.
“It’s coming.”
Marc was the one they turned to and he understood their hesitation when she peered at him with orbs that held no trace of Angela, only her witch.
“He has to talk to the weather woman. She dreams of it. Beware.”
Marc shifted restlessly as the wind gusted, shaking the tent. If Angie said something was coming, then it was.
“It’s the nightmares, right?” Seth asked, mind flashing to the beautiful sorceress who had danced through his. “We all have them now.”
“Not always. Sometimes, it’s something more.” Marc turned to Angela. “Is it the slavers?”
“No,” she answered, haze clearing a bit. “He has to talk to Samantha–today.”
Neil and Kyle exchanged glances, both thinking of the man that had come in with Samantha. Rick was being monitored.
“How long?” Marc asked.
“A week? Maybe less.”
The men around them relaxed a little, some of them lying back down.
“We’ll tell him,” Marc assured her. “You want some hot chocolate?”
“Yes.” Becoming aware that she was the center of attention, Angela flushed. “Who’s my shadow?”
Behind her, Neil said, “That would be me.”
She surveyed his narrow profile. “You had any sleep yet?”
“The same as you.”
Angela put on her boots with cold fingers. “I’ll come back here and lay down in a few.”
“No need to if you’d rather not. I run light.”
“Works for me,” she agreed, grateful.
Kyle and Marc had made a 6’ x 6’ area enclosed by a foot high stack of bedrolls and kits that appeared to be only gear in a neat pile from the outside of the canvas. With Marc at her back, she’d had little trouble falling asleep, but Angela was definitely done letting the witch dream walk and more than ready to be out of this hormone-filled tent.
She stretched as she rose, unable to stop a small moan of pleasure.
Men’s lids flew open at the sound and Marc assumed it was a copy of the one they’d just heard in dreams. He recognized the gut-twisting flare of need in their looks, knew it well.
Angela stiffened at the thoughts, the dreamy images rushing toward her. She quickly strapped on her gun and exited the tent, with Neil and Marc on her heels.
The QZ was layered in thin fog and Eagles. Dog was out roaming, and there were no less than fifteen Eagles in sight. Each confirmed her safety, escorts, and her shadow, before nodding politely as they went by.
“Doesn’t he think this is a bit much?” she asked sharply. It wouldn’t help these men accept her as one of them if she needed to be babysat.
Marc didn’t tell her that he and Neil were responsible. Until the extra protections were in place, she would have help within reach at all times. It was how he’d handled witnesses he had been sent into foreign lands to recover, and it was a plan that he intended to use here. Besides the slavers, there was a grieving twin out there and that one may not come in force. Dean might sneak in and slit her throat while she slept or firebomb her tent if he knew which one it was.
“You can’t stop it, Marc. They’ll come and I have to be ready,” she stated, spotting specks of crimson in his goatee that he’d missed when he washed up.
Marc didn’t say anything because he was positive their idea of ready was drastically different. Angie grew a reckless streak when she was upset, always had. More than once, he’d had to refuse a dangerous request when they were kids, and then she’d waited for him to leave and done it. Alone, he remembered, trying not to flinch. He would have to be careful not to push her into anything.
Neil hung back as they ducked under the awning of the little mess, fog curling around their boots. They were the only ones at the small eating area and Angela chose a dim corner while Marc got their mugs.
The larger camp was still silent, only quiet Eagles moving, and she rubbed at her face, yawning. She wasn’t used to a first shift schedule.
“This’ll help.”
She let him set the mug down and pull his hand away before reaching for it.
“Chocolate caffeine.” She sipped it carefully, forcing herself to not wake too fast, but enjoy the time with Marc instead. “How do you feel?”
Marc’s lips grinned, but he didn’t. He sat down, adjusting his matching Colts. “Sore, like after a mission.”
“Sounds like another promotion is in order.”
“That’s your honor.” He couldn’t hide his anger or his awe. “What you did! Thank you.”
“Anything for you.”
Magic sparked between them and Neil distracted a pair of Kyle’s Eagles who were coming in for coffee.
“Neil’
s a good friend to have here, I’ve heard,” she commented.
“Sure could have been a lot worse without him,” Marc admitted.
Angela wanted to say more, like how grateful and how mad she was about what he’d done for her, but didn’t. He already knew.
“Did you calm down and get some sleep?”
“Yes,” she snorted wryly, loving his musky scent. “Thanks.”
They shared a grin and it held for a long moment where Marc fought to keep from sliding his hand over hers. He settled for letting his eyes say all the things his mouth wasn’t allowed to.
“We’ve been through a lot, Wolfman,” she teased, the caffeine slowly bringing awareness.
“Hasn’t changed much since we’ve gotten here, has it, that New Woman?”
Angela chuckled, loving the way he always kept up with her, kept her laughing. “Nope. We’ll still avoid bridges.”
It wasn’t much. Five minutes without Kenn and the camp scrutinizing their every expression, but it was a flash to the trip here for them, sharp and sweet. Their slow starts and finishes to the day were something they’d grown to love and both of them missed it.
“You did pretty good last night. How does it feel to be the first female here officially allowed to carry a gun?”
Angela felt a sharp prick pierce her good mood, sensing the searching caution in his words. Why couldn’t he leave it alone?
