by R. D. Brady
“So there is no end-of-days Antichrist?”
Patrick shrugged. “I obviously can’t know for sure, although I do believe someone would have to be in charge of the fighters for evil. But it doesn’t matter what is true, but what people believe. Many believe that the Antichrist will come, that he will signal the beginning of a time of trial and tribulation for mankind, and that he will try to win people over to his side. People’s beliefs can be a powerful thing.”
Laney nodded, knowing that was true.
“But there is good news. In the end, according to Daniel and Revelations, all those who follow Satan will be thrown in a lake of fire and destroyed. So those on the wrong side… well, they don’t have a wonderful ending.”
Laney remembered the picture of herself with horns and a pitchfork. “Yeah, but for a growing portion of the population, the person on the wrong side is me.”
CHAPTER 96
With her uncle’s thoughts still running through her mind, Laney now sat in Henry’s living room to watch Mike Wallace on The Sunday Report. She was surrounded by the same friends as last time, with one exception—Mustafa had flown in to join them as well. He had said he was “just in the area,” but Laney knew he was worried and wanted to be here in case she needed a little extra security. She was touched by his concern.
Matt would have liked to have come as well, but he was bogged down after Australia—and he was undeniably preparing for whatever the outcome of this broadcast was going to be.
But despite having the same group of friends together as they’d had for the last Sunday Report, the lead-up to this show felt very different. Last time, they’d had a nice dinner, chatting about their week. This time, everyone was quiet, subdued. There was no easygoing chatter, no small talk. Everyone was waiting for the bomb they all knew was about to drop.
Time crawled, but finally, eight o’clock rolled around, and they gathered in front of the TV. Patrick took Laney’s hand and gave it a squeeze as the show started.
Mike Wallace once again appeared on screen. He smiled as he strode onto the set, but as soon as he began to speak his face became much more serious.
“It was only a few weeks ago when we first brought Delaney McPhearson to your attention—and for most of you, that broadcast was the first time you had ever heard of Delaney McPhearson. But since then, she seems to have taken it upon herself to make sure the entire world knows who she is.”
Mike walked once again through the set, with newspaper headlines appearing behind him. But this time, Laney noticed it wasn’t only newspapers that were being displayed; there were also screen shots from websites. Websites she was all too familiar with.
Oh, no.
“No one is unfamiliar with the incident in Israel last month, when an attempt was made to destroy the Temple Mount, one of the holiest sites in the world.” Mike paused at a still shot of Laney hovering above the Temple Mount. Laney cringed, wishing, not for the first time, that there had been some other way she could have handled that situation. “Delaney McPhearson was in the thick of that incident—and she has been hailed by many as a hero.”
Mike paused again, turning to look straight into the camera. “But is she really? We all watched in awe as she rose into the sky in the land of miracles, replicating the actions of those viewed as the holiest in our world’s history. Was that McPhearson’s plan? To have the world view her through the same lens?”
Laney’s jaw dropped. Was he kidding? She had been forced into a corner. Either fly, or let the bomb go off.
“Apparently he’s not worried about providing two sides to a story,” Jen muttered.
Mike continued. “She looks otherworldly as she flies above the landscape. And maybe she is. But which world?”
“What the hell does that even mean?” Jen grumbled.
“Rumors have begun to circulate on the internet, claiming that McPhearson is not who she appears to be.” Mike stopped in front of a wall splashed with the headline of a blog: “The Antichrist is Alive.” “These rumors paint a very disturbing picture of Delaney McPhearson’s activities in Australia and Israel—and indeed her very role in this world.”
Mike then went in depth into the internet campaign to paint Laney as the Antichrist. He discussed the different websites and their rationales. He even brought some academics in to discuss the descriptions of the Antichrist found in religious texts. Each expert stopped short of calling Laney the Antichrist, but Mike acted like they had emphatically labeled her as the bringer of doom.
Laney gaped. How could they do this? Just slander her this way?
“Is this even legal?” Jake demanded.
Henry shrugged. “He’s not saying she’s the Antichrist. He’s just reporting on what all these websites are saying.”
The show went to a commercial break, and Henry muted the set. Everyone sat silently. Laney looked at the faces around the room, and they all reflected her own fear.
“It’ll be all right,” Patrick said, using an upbeat tone that Laney had last heard in the doctor’s office when she was a kid and he was assuring her the shot wouldn’t hurt. It was no more convincing now. “Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”
“All of us,” Henry said.
Everyone in the room nodded in agreement.
Laney clasped her uncle’s hand, trying to tap into some of his strength, but she felt hollow. All these accusations were being hurled at her, and she couldn’t defend herself. How did you prove a negative? How did you prove what you weren’t?
“No one is going to believe this,” Jake said. “Most people don’t believe in the Antichrist.”
But Laney knew that wasn’t true. Poll numbers indicated that at least forty percent of Americans believed that Armageddon would occur, and that it would be a fight between Christ and the Antichrist. Then again, four percent of people believed that lizard people controlled society, so people really believed all sorts of things that were crazy.
“Laney, it’s going to be okay,” Jen said. “It’s just a bunch of nut jobs on the internet. Everyone knows you can’t trust the internet.”
Laney hoped Jen was right, and that there was nothing to worry about.
“It’s back,” Henry said, unmuting the set.
Mike Wallace now sat in a club chair facing the camera. Laney knew that chair—it was where he sat when he interviewed people. But who was he interviewing?
“Most of you know our next guest. She has been a figure on the global circuit for years, renowned for her philanthropic endeavors.”
Gasps and muttered curses were heard all around Henry’s living room. The screen panned over to a woman in her fifties, with small eyes, a Mediterranean complexion, and dark hair pulled back.
Laney felt her stomach drop. Oh my God. Samyaza.
The camera panned back to Mike Wallace, whose chin was tilted down, his eyebrows drawn together. “For those of you who don’t know Elisabeta Roccorio, let me give you a little background. Elisabeta was born into a very wealthy family, but from an early age, she recognized the need to give back. In a world where wealthy socialites have stood out for their rampant selfishness, Elisabeta has stood out for her charitable works. Just this last year she has completed the building of three schools in poverty-stricken nations to aid underserved populations. She is on the board of over a dozen charitable organizations with global reach. Thank you for joining us tonight, Elisabeta.”
Laney stared at the screen in disbelief. I’m the Antichrist, and she’s Mother Teresa. The world has officially gone insane.
Elisabeta spoke quietly. “Thank you for having me.”
“Now, I know this is a difficult topic for you,” Mike said, “and that you have come here to speak even though you believe it places your life in danger.”
Elisabeta took a shaky breath, her chin trembling just a bit. “Yes. But I believe that the truth must come out. And that even if I am hurt or killed as a result of speaking out, the world must know who Delaney McPhearson is.”
L
aney sucked in a breath. Patrick squeezed her hand.
“Can you explain what you mean by that?” Mike asked.
Elisabeta took another trembling breath. “I’m sorry. This is very difficult.”
“Take your time.”
If Laney didn’t know Elisabeta, she would have been concerned for the woman. Instead she steeled herself for what was to come.
Elisabeta raised her head and stared straight at the camera. “It was not Honu Keiki who was behind the attack on the Temple Mount. It was Delaney McPhearson.”
CHAPTER 97
As soon as the words left Elisabeta’s mouth, Henry was on his phone calling his legal team and ordering them to the estate immediately, and Jake was on the phone with his security team, doubling the patrols on both the estate and the school. But Laney just sat there numbly, staring at the screen. It was not Honu Keiki who was behind the attack on the Temple Mount. It was Delaney McPhearson.
How could she say that?
Jen took the seat Jake had vacated and took Laney’s hand. Mustafa moved his chair closer to them. But even with Patrick, Jen, and Mustafa surrounding her, Laney was adrift. This can’t be happening.
Onscreen, Mike Wallace’s face was supposed to be full of concern, but Laney could make out a glimmer of happiness in his eyes. He knew what a huge coup this was. “That’s a strong statement,” he said. “Do you have anything to back it up?”
Elisabeta nodded. “I have video recordings and documentation that show she purchased the explosives that the bombers attempted to use. I have made it available to whoever wants to read it or see it.” She rattled off a web address, and The Sunday Report helpfully displayed the address across the bottom of the screen.
Mike then looked straight at the camera. “I should tell the viewing audience that I have reviewed the video and paper documentation and I find it very compelling.” He turned back to Elisabeta. “Now, Elisabeta, why are you only coming forward now?”
Elisabeta took a breath. “I was scared.”
“Of McPhearson?”
Elisabeta nodded. “She’s not who the media has portrayed her to be. The world knows she’s powerful, but they don’t know that she’s cruel. She’s dangerous.”
“That is not the picture we, the world, have of her.”
“I know,” Elisabeta said. “That’s why I waited. I wasn’t sure anyone would believe me.”
Mike reached over and took her hand. “Well, I believe you. And I did some research. I came up with some concerning incidents.”
he turned to the camera. “Last year in Washington, DC, there was an attack at the Capitol Building. It was thwarted. But what the world didn’t know was that Delaney McPhearson was involved. We have some videotape.”
Laney remembered the suicide bomber and his partner. She had killed one before he could set off his bomb vest, and she had disabled the other. What could they possibly say she did wrong there?
The video played. It showed people running down a hallway. A police officer was stabbed and fell to the ground. Then Laney appeared in a doorway, which Laney knew led to the stairwell. She stopped a few feet from Rico Fuenes, the bomber who had on a suicide vest with enough explosives to take out the whole building and parts of the buildings on either side. The video stopped right after she broke Fuenes’s neck.
“That is Delaney McPhearson,” Mike said. “But let’s back up a little.” He rewound the tape to when she first appeared, stopped it when she was a few feet from the bomber, and zoomed in.
On screen, Laney was smiling.
“Why is she smiling?” he asked. “What kind of person would be smiling at the sight of a downed officer of the law and a bomber? And just seconds later, she snapped his neck as casually as someone would kill a fly.”
“He wasn’t a Fallen,” Laney mumbled. “I was smiling because he was just a human and would be easier to disarm. I saved hundreds of people that day.” She knew her words were true, but they sounded defensive even to her own ears.
“Coincidentally, McPhearson’s involvement with a shadowy government organization was under scrutiny at that time. She, along with her colleagues, were in DC, being grilled by Senate committees about their actions. But after the bombing attempt, those committees went away, their investigations tabled until a still undetermined future date. Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”
Mike paused to let his words sink in.
“And that’s just one incident. There are more. Many more. When she was in Ecuador, hundreds of the Shuar tribe lost their lives. In Montana, over three hundred men were killed in an enclosure where Laney just happened to show up. Wherever Delaney McPhearson goes, death follows.”
“That’s insane,” Jen said. “The men in Montana were already dead, and you saved the Shuar. So did I!”
“Even the event which brought her notoriety has now come under scrutiny. It has been determined that the bus on the bridge had a tire shot out. That’s what caused it to careen uncontrollably toward the railing. But who would do such a thing? And right at the very spot where someone was taping? At the very spot, and the very moment, where someone would see Delaney McPhearson and her amazing abilities?”
Laney felt her mouth fall open. “They think I caused the bus accident too?”
Mike Wallace turned back to Elisabeta. “And that’s not all, is it?”
Elisabeta shook her head, her eyes downcast. “No.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“I know this is difficult, but can you tell us the last time you saw Delaney McPhearson take a life?”
Elisabeta nodded. “It was in Australia. McPhearson—she was obsessed with tracking down the head of Honu Keiki—the priestess.”
“The woman who many, at the urging of McPhearson, said was responsible for the attempt at the Temple Mount.”
Elisabeta trembled, clutching the handkerchief in her hand tightly. “Yes. I saw McPhearson chase this poor woman down. McPhearson—she’s an incredible fighter. This woman didn’t stand a chance. She was terrified. And McPhearson calmly and with no emotion snapped her neck—in a room full of children.”
Mike let the silence play out for several agonizing seconds. “Snapping her neck. She does seem to like that method, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.” Elisabeta’s response was barely audible.
“How did you happen to see this?”
“I had my people tap into the security feeds at the Australian facility of Honu Keiki. I had them record McPhearson’s moves inside. I knew if I didn’t, the evidence would be lost. McPhearson would make sure it was lost.”
“And was it?”
“The facility was destroyed. The recordings survived only because I had them copied in real time.”
“They were destroyed because you blew up the facility!” Jen yelled at the screen.
“And now you’re worried for your own safety, aren’t you?” Mike asked.
Tears crested in Elisabeta’s eyes. “I’ve seen what she can do. She has no compunction about killing. And now I’m speaking out against her. I have no doubt I will now be on her list.”
“Thank you for your bravery today.” Mike turned to the camera. “So who is Delaney McPhearson? The hero we all thought her to be after the Baltimore bridge incident? The miraculous savior we thought her to be in Jerusalem and Australia? Or a serial killer leaving a trail of bodies in her wake?”
A portion of another blog post appeared behind him, with the word Antichrist highlighted. “Or is she possibly something much more sinister? It’s up to you to decide.” The background shifted to the image of Laney, her eyes wide, her face focused, and her hands on Rico Fuenes’s neck. “But in this case, I think actions speak much louder than words.”
CHAPTER 98
Laney was stunned. She didn’t feel angry. She didn’t feel scared. She didn’t feel at all. She was too shocked for any emotions.
Henry was arguing with someone on the phone in his kitchen. Jake was talking to a group of security people who had shown up at the house
in the front hall. They would now be Laney’s shadows twenty-four seven. Her uncle was on the phone with the church hierarchy, who were no doubt demanding an explanation. Jen was calling the school to make sure Yoni knew what had been reported, and instructing him to tell the staff so they could deal with the student response. Mustafa was somewhere on his own phone, talking with the legal team at the SIA.
And Laney just sat there—not moving, not talking. For the last three years she had spent nearly every moment as the ring bearer, the defender of the innocent, combating the Fallen every time they popped up. Her life had been completely taken over by her destiny. She had lost people she loved. She had lost her relationship with Jake. She had given up on any sort of normal future. And she had come to terms with that. She had accepted that this was her life, and it was a life she would constantly be risking for the good of others. She didn’t expect thanks. She didn’t expect notoriety.
But she sure hadn’t expected this.
Antichrist. Serial killer. She flinched as the words rolled through her mind. Samyaza had made her a pariah.
“No!” Henry yelled into the phone. “Without a warrant, they are not getting in. You tell them that.”
Laney looked up as Henry stormed into the room, jabbing at his phone. “Henry?”
He took her hand, trying to force a calm expression on his face and failing horribly. “It’s nothing. The FBI called and want to do a sit-down with you. But without a warrant you aren’t speaking with anyone, and no one’s coming here.”
“They’ll get a warrant,” Laney said.
“And we’ll fight it.” Henry’s phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID. “It’s the legal team. I have to take this.”
