The Belial Stone

CHAPTER 1



Dewitt, NY



Professor Delaney McPhearson glanced at the clock over the kitchen cabinets. She was barely a quarter of the way through the tall stack of undergrad criminology papers in front of her.

“Crap, crap, crap,” she muttered. She needed to move if she was going to make her self-defense class.

“Crap, crap, crap,” Max, her roommate Kati's three-year-old son, said from his spot on the floor.

Wincing, she gave Kati an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Forgot he was there.”

Jotting down two more quick remarks, she whisked the papers off the table, placing them next to the larger stack of still-to-be graded ones on the kitchen island.

She knelt down to Max and ruffled his sun-kissed brown hair. “That's a bad word, Max. I shouldn't have said it.”

Max nodded at her, his bright blue eyes, matching the Sesame Street t-shirt he wore, solemn. “Crap bad.”

Laney restrained the urge to smile. “Yes, bad.”

She looked over his head at Kati, who was shaking her head good-naturedly. Kati and Max shared same the soft, brown hair, slim build, and button nose. The only difference was their eye color: Kati's were a deep brown. Kati’s hair, now in a short pixie cut, only accentuated the similarities between mother and son.

“You better move if you’re going to make your class,” Kati warned.

“I’m going. I’m going.”

With a quick kiss to the top of Max's head, she jogged to the stairs. Taking them two at a time, she ducked into her room, and rummaged through her dresser for her workout clothes.

Pulling off her pajamas, she struggled into the sports bra and yanked on a deep purple t-shirt. Pulling her long, wavy, red hair into a ponytail, she had just slid into the black pants when her cell phone rang.

I have no time for whoever this is, she thought, even as she reached over to her nightstand to check the caller ID. She smiled and flipped the phone open, cradling it to her ear.

“Drew. Where the hell have you been?”

Drew Master’s familiar chuckle made Laney smile even wider. She pictured him sitting at his desk, his mop of curly brown hair falling over his deep blue eyes.

Her uncle had always hoped the two of them would turn their platonic friendship into a romantic one. At least, he had hoped it up until she explained that the main stumbling block was their identical taste in men.

“Sorry, Lanes. Work’s been insane.”

“See? You’re working too hard. You should have taken that position with my uncle.” Laney’s uncle, Father Patrick Delaney, was one of the Roman Catholic Church’s premier archaeologists. He’d gotten custody of Laney after her parents had died in a car crash when she was eight. As a result, she’d spent almost every summer at one dig site or another since childhood.

Since Laney met Drew freshman year of college, he’d spent every summer with them as well. Even when they went to different doctorate programs, they stayed close. When Drew finished his doctorate, her uncle had offered him a position with one of the Vatican’s dig sites. Drew turned him down. Instead he’d agreed to work with Dr. Arthur Priddle. Not a good call in Laney’s opinion, but also not her decision.

“You know I think the world of your uncle. But Arthur’s research is much more in line with my own. And, at the time, I thought it would come with fewer strings.”

“Not the case, huh?”

Drew snorted. “Hardly. He’s been running me ragged. I don’t think he understands that we’re colleagues and I’m not his grad student. And he’s been even more security conscious than usual. The man has taken paranoia to a whole new extreme.”

Laney caught her reflection in the mirror, her dark green eyes reflecting her concern. This wasn’t like Drew. He wasn’t a complainer. He’d spent one summer in Egypt covered in bug bites, in the sweltering heat, with an unknown rash that caused his feet to swell to the point that he’d had to hobble around in sandals two sizes too big. He’d barely mumbled a complaint.

Seeming to sense her worry, he added some bounce into his next words. “I mean, it’s intense, but good. Priddle really has a way of looking at things from a new angle and developing an innovative approach.”

Laney opened her closet, looking for her gym shoes, and grimaced. “Right. Innovative and without any social skills or conscience.”

At Drew’s silence, she sighed, realizing she wasn't helping. “Sorry. Ignore that. I just don’t like you being so far away. So tell me, how are you doing? Really doing? And no placating.”

Drew let out another laugh, this one less good-natured and more nervous. “Okay, maybe things are a little stressful, right now. But you know Priddle, perfection is his goal.”