The Belial Fall (The Belial Series Book 13)

by R. D. Brady

  Vincento Cordalio, Bishop of Padua, raced through the streets, his heart pounding, his tunic covered in blood.

  The blood of the Pope. That treacherous slut.

  He shoved through the door of the Lateran Palace, pushing the door closed behind him.

  “Wait, wait. Let me in.” Cardinal Segnillio pushed in behind him.

  Together they shoved the door closed, pulling a long piece of wood across it to secure it. Both men leaned heavily against the door, their breathing ragged. Vincento raised a shaky hand and wiped the sweat from his face. “How is this possible? She was a woman?”

  “She is the Devil come to destroy the Church. We did God’s work today.”

  Vincento looked down at the blood staining his tunic. “How did we not know?”

  But he knew the answer. Bathing did not happen often, so there’d be little opportunity for someone to uncover the ruse. With clothes hiding shapes, it was possible. But how had she been able to complete her studies? She was a woman.

  Segnillio pushed off from the door, crushing his cap in his hands. “We can never let this be found out. She must be stricken from our books. We barely survived the Great Schism. This coming so close on its heels; the Eastern churches will use it to pull more of our members.”

  Vincento nodded. Segnillio was right. The Great Schism of 1054 had separated the Church, removing all the Eastern Orthodox churches from the Roman Catholic Church. It had halved the Church’s power. Already weakened, it would not be able to easily swallow a hit of this magnitude.

  “She will be stricken, but more must be done. We must protect the Church at all costs. It is too fragile.”

  “How?”

  Vincento paced, his heart still beating fast, but his mind moving faster. “A small group, dedicated, with ranks of spies and warriors under their control. We will identify threats and stop them before they can cause harm.”

  Segnillio nodded his head slowly. “Yes, but it must remain secret. The members cannot know. Most of the priests, and even the Vatican hierarchy, must not know. It will be our sacred duty to ensure this”—he sneered—“and any other situations never occur again.”

  Vincento extended his hand. “In God’s name.”

  Segnillio laid his hand on top of it. “In God’s name.”

  CHAPTER 1

  Rome, Italy

  Present Day

  Torches flickered in the dark caverns underneath the Vatican, causing shadows to dance along the earthen floor and the dark spaces. Over four million tourists visited the Vatican each year, but none were able to access these areas of the necropolis underneath its hallowed halls. That access was restricted to only a few who had proven their loyalty and dedication over the years.

  Cardinal John Moretti walked along the ancient dirt paths, breathing in the stillness. Normally, walking down here brought him peace, being this close to Simon Peter made him feel connected to God and the Church in a way nothing else did. The Vatican had been built on the site of St. Peter’s grave, although construction had not begun until the fourth century A.D. Most of the original structure had been destroyed or replaced over time, but the catacombs and trails underneath the Vatican remained untouched, at least the parts hidden from public view.

  But today, he found no solace. Today, he could not get the images beamed around the world from D.C. out of his mind. The powers of Elisabeta Roccorio and Delaney McPhearson were truly terrifying. The world had breathed a sigh of relief when Roccorio had been killed. It was better for the world that she was gone.

  But Delaney McPhearson still lived. The funnel of lightning and wind she displayed while keeping the agents of the U.S. government at bay were only a taste of the power she would no doubt yield at some point in the future. The world saw her as a savior of humanity, but Moretti saw her for what she truly was: the downfall of humanity, the antichrist. In the prophecies of the antichrist, it was always the same: The antichrist would be embraced as a savior, and they themselves might think of themselves as a savior before their true nature revealed itself and the world trembled at their feet.

  But I will not let that happen. I will stand between McPhearson and the damage she would do.

  It was his sacred duty. When he had joined the Church, he had joined a brotherhood within it, sworn to protect the Church and the papacy from all harm. Scattered throughout the world, their members had protected the Church from scandal, from danger, and sometimes from enemies within, all in the name of God. And tonight, they would allow a new member into their inner council.

  John made his way slowly up the hill, bowing his head at the grave of St. Peter. Peter was a man who had taken on the mantle of building Jesus’s following, paying the ultimate price for that devotion. He had spread Jesus’s word to the world. None of this would have been possible without him.

  But all of that was now being put at risk.

  “Cardinal Moretti.” A tall man with dark hair and a heavy Spanish accent stepped out of the shadows.

  John inclined his head. “Cardinal Francisco.”

  Both men turned as three other cardinals joined them: Cardinal Antonio Ribraldi, Cardinal Luke Park, and Cardinal Paul Tegano. All the men were in their sixties, except for Tegano, who had just passed the seventy mark last week. A sixth member was decades younger than his brothers. Father Sebastian Gante was thirty-six. He was young, but he had proven his loyalty to the cause over and over again.

  And the cause was no less than the protection of the papacy, and by extension, the very world. The Brotherhood rarely met. They did not like to draw attention to themselves. But the events in D.C. had forced their hand, requiring them to determine a new course of action.

  John’s gaze swept across each of the men. “We must decide tonight what to do about the recent events.”

  “What is the Pope’s view?” Tegano asked.

  John paused. “He has been aware of the Fallen’s existence since he was made Pope, of course.”

  It was the Brotherhood’s job to inform the Pope after his inauguration of all the hidden components of the Church that he may need to be aware of. Each Pope, going back centuries, had been aware that there were certain individuals in this world who were blessed or cursed, depending on the Pope’s perspective, with extra abilities. But never before had a Pope had to publicly acknowledge their existence.

  “But he is not convinced that all individuals with abilities are destined to be evil. He believes they, too, have a chance at redemption.”

  Ribraldi gave an inelegant snort, his large stomach joggling with the effort. “Redemption. They are Satan’s soldiers. There is no saving them.”

  “Agreed,” Moretti said. “But that is not what I have brought you here to discuss. We need to determine what is to be done about the ring bearer.”

  Silence descended across the space before Tegano spoke. “It is not the actual ring of Solomon she wears, is it?”

  “From our reports, it does indeed seem to be.”

  “What does the Tome say?” Ribraldi asked.

  “It’s been slow reading. We only remembered we had it when Roccorio made her first announcement.”

  Moretti had been annoyed at how off guard they had been caught when the Fallen were so publicly revealed. They had, of course, known of the Fallen’s existence for hundreds of years, but the Fallen had always stayed hidden. Roccorio’s announcement had gone against a millennium of intel on the Fallen’s activities.

  But that announcement had forced them to reevaluate the Fallen. They had been a quiet nuisance. But now the world knew who they were. And the whole world was changed by that knowledge.

  Moretti did not like being caught off guard, especially since they had the Tome of the Great Mother in their possession. It was perhaps the greatest repository of information on the Fallen in the world, in perhaps the history of the world. But it had simply sat on a shelf until recent events had forced them to pull it from the shelf and see what knowledge it could offer.

  “I have scholars reviewing
it. Preliminary analysis indicates the ring bearer has been called in times past to combat a rising threat from the Fallen.”

  Ribraldi scoffed. “But she’s a woman. Surely she would not be God’s chosen one.”

  “I agree. It seems unlikely.” Moretti paused. “There is one other issue that harkens toward a critical point for the Church.” He nodded at Father Gante, who produced his phone with a picture from the failed coronation already on the screen. A man was pictured there, his arms wrapped around the ring bearer as she bled.

  “Who is this?”

  “That is the question. We know he goes by the name Drake. He was a Las Vegas entertainer.”

  Tegano frowned. “Why does he matter?”

  John nodded at Gante, who swiped to another picture. “He was also Sir Reginaldo Lopez from the sixteenth century. Even a duke from England in the fourteenth century.” The picture shifted again.

  Park’s eyes went wide. “He has reincarnated?”

  “No. We believe he has lived throughout these times.”

  “So who is he?” Ribraldi demanded.

  Gante held up his phone with a picture of a statue from Castel Sant’Angelo. Each of the cardinals gasped. “It cannot be.”

  “Are you sure?” Ribraldi asked.

  John shook his head. “No. I am not sure. But we have to prepare if he is God’s soldier. We need information.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Gante will gather the information for us. He will be the Vatican’s representative and interview Patrick Delaney and Delaney McPhearson. He will get close to them and get us the information we need.”

  “But if this man is who you suspect, is it possible that Delaney McPhearson, rather than being God’s chosen, is the Devil’s?”

  John nodded, his voice grave. “If Drake is God’s soldier, then Delaney McPhearson may very well be the antichrist, and we need to protect the Church.”

  “Do we agree?”

  All the men nodded back at him.

  John extended his hand. “In God’s name.”

  Each man placed their hand forward. “In God’s name,” they said in unison, their words echoing across the ancient necropolis.

  CHAPTER 2

  Chicago, Illinois

  Three Months Later

  The van tore around the corner. Two wheels lifted up in the air as the remaining two squealed in protest. Delaney McPhearson’s teeth rattled as the wheels touched back down, but she didn’t yell at Jake Rogan, who was behind the wheel. She saved her ire for the officer on the other side of her earpiece.

  “What the hell were you thinking, breaching without waiting for us?”

  “We have been trained to—”

  “Shit!” Jake swerved as gunfire sprayed across the windshield. The glass was bulletproof, but a dozen indentations showed exactly how much damage the barrage could have done.

  Jake yanked the wheel to the left. They bounced over the curb as they barreled into a parking lot hidden from the warehouse and storefronts down the street.

  “How many hostages?” Laney demanded, cutting the officer off.

  “We’re not sure. We think it might be—”

  “Fourteen,” Jen Witt said, cutting off the sergeant.

  “Where are you?” Laney asked.

  “On the roof. They’ve got fourteen hostages, eight of them kids, and I’ve counted twelve bad guys, all heavily armed. There may be more, though, because the skylight I’m looking through has no view of the offices in the back.”

  “Got it. Sergeant, where are your men?”

  “On the southern end of the street you just came down. Now look, we have the situation—”

  Laney cut off his channel. She did not need to hear his opinion right now. She needed to try to figure out a way to make any of this work, and a guy who jumped the gun while knowing help was on the way was not going to be much help with that.

  Just this morning, the higher-ups in Chicago had contacted the SIA about one of the gangs outside of Chicago now being led by a Fallen named Dirk Magnet. Laney wasn’t sure what the man’s parents were thinking of, naming him that. There were no good career options predicted with that name.

  Dirk was running guns and terrorizing the neighborhood, demanding protection money. No one had said a word until a twelve-year-old had ended up in the hospital, shot in a war between the new gang and the one that had once controlled these streets.

  Sadly, this was not a new story. Ever since the botched coronation, some Fallen had taken the loss of their leader as a signal that they could do whatever they wanted. Apparently, for them, that did not include being a productive, law-abiding citizen. The SIA had been run ragged the last few months, going from one incident to the next.

  Laney, Jake, and Jen were supposed to analyze the situation and figure out the best way to neutralize Dirk. They had just touched down in Illinois twenty minutes ago. They’d been on route to police headquarters when they’d gotten word that some hothead sergeant had decided he didn’t need to wait for the SIA. They’d moved in ten minutes ago, and all hell had broken loose. As soon as the gang members caught sight of the cops, they opened fire. Two officers had their necks broken by the gang leader before a lucky shot had slowed him down. Now the gang was holed up in a warehouse with hostages they had grabbed from the surrounding buildings. It was not looking good.

  She switched the officer’s channel back on. “Sergeant, have your people set up a perimeter and keep up surveillance. Let us know if anyone tries to leave the warehouse.”

  “Fine.” Laney could hear the man gritting his teeth over the line. “Do you have a plan for infiltrating?”

  “I’ll get back to you shortly with that.” She disconnected the call, then turned to Jake while touching the mic at her throat to include Jen in the conversation. “So the police department that created this FUBAR situation would now like to know what we are going to do to fix it.”

  Jen snorted. “Figures.”

  “Any ideas?” Laney asked.

  “Develop time travel, go back in time fifteen minutes, and tell the cops to freaking wait?” Jen grumbled.

  Laney smiled. “Great idea. But any ideas that do not involve the plot from a dozen or so sci-fi movies?”

  Jake shrugged. “We could do the usual.”

  Laney blew out a breath as she opened the car door. “Great. Winging it again.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Laney rolled her neck, trying to work out some of the stiffness there. They’d rushed here from Arkansas, where they’d been training a special law enforcement unit to deal with Fallen situations. Before that, she’d spoken to a teen group aimed at runaways. She’d been moving pretty much ever since everything that happened in D.C. There’d been interview requests, which she’d turned down, and hearings on the Hill, which she couldn’t turn down. Plus, she’d been working with local, state, federal, and foreign governments along with the SIA to address the growing Fallen issue, which meant right now she was tired and cranky.

  Jake stood next to Laney as she peered around the corner of the building at the end of the alley to check out the warehouse. She leaned back. “I saw four gunmen. Two outside. Two inside.”

  Jake pulled the slide back on his Beretta. “Okay. Let’s try to take these guys into custody with as little property damage possible.”

  Laney snorted. “Yeah, I’d hate to make the accountants unhappy.” That was another new addition to their lives: paperwork.

  The warehouse in question was in fact owned by the city and slated for destruction, but the new guidelines that the government had put in place for SIA agents required that any property that was damaged needed to be documented. They would have to write up every broken window, dinged doorway, and scratched paint job. So each time a bullet or body dented a piece of property, they needed to account for it in a report. Honestly, the amount of paperwork that now came with her job of saving lives was almost enough to make her turn to the dark side.

  Almost.

  “
So what’s the plan?” Jake asked.

  Laney peered around the building. “Jen, can you get into the warehouse?”

  Jen’s voice was dry. “I’m going to ignore the insult in that question and chalk it up to a lack of sleep.”

  Laney smiled. “Okay. You are responsible for getting the hostages out when the gunmen become distracted. Jake, you cover her.”

  “What’s the distraction?” Jake asked.

  Laney sighed. “I thought I’d go talk to them.”

  Jake raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

  Jen was less polite. “That sucks.”

  Laney sighed. “I know. But it’s all I’ve got right now.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Laney put her hands up and stepped around the corner of the building. She hated this part. She now had the abilities of the Fallen: the speed, strength, and healing, along with her abilities to control the weather and communicate with animals. Her ability to order the Fallen, however, was no longer in her bag of tricks.

  She was pretty sure she was immortal, though. The Omni combined with her blood should have done the trick. But being the only way to test that was to have someone give her a mortal wound, she had yet to determine if that was true. Of course, there had been some very helpful Fallen who, over the last few months, had made attempts to get her an answer to that question.

  So as she walked down the street, her hands up, her eyes scanning the warehouse in front of her, she knew there was a chance she could die. She just had to hope she was a little better than Dirk. She smiled at the gunmen, who looked at each other and then back at her.

  “No guns. I just want to talk,” Laney called out, continuing to move toward them.

  One of the men squinted, making Laney think he needed glasses, which was good. Hopefully he would not recognize her until she got closer.