The Belial Stone(12)

And using Edgar Cayce as a source was not going to gain you any points, either. Cayce was a psychic from the early twentieth century. He was widely regarded as incredibly accurate in his psychic medical diagnosis. Research conducted in the 1970s put his accuracy at an astounding eighty-six percent. But it was his past-life readings on Atlantis that raised the most eyebrows.

A second citation caught her attention. “The Book of Enoch.” She struggled to recall what little she could about the apocryphal text. Enoch, Noah’s great-grandfather, allegedly wrote it after a visit to heaven.

Her stomach growled, interrupting her thoughts. She realized she hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. Picking up her mug, she drained the last bits of coffee. She might not want any food, but if she was going to get through the day, she’d need the fuel.

She headed downstairs, her mind filled with Drew’s ideas. Lost in her thoughts, she rounded the bottom of the stairs, eyes cast on the ground, her mind millennia away.

“Ah, there you are.”

Her head jerked up and she stumbled to a stop. An Asian man stood staring at her, a small smile on his face. “I’ve been waiting for you.”





CHAPTER 9



The man stood in the middle of the kitchen, not trying to hide, not trying to get away. His smile deepened, which only served to increase her fear.

“So nice to meet you, Dr. McPhearson.”

Laney paused. He knew her name. Not a burglary, then. He was about her age, she thought, and maybe Chinese. Idly, she noted he was impeccably dressed in dark slacks and a pristine white shirt. She wasn’t a fashionista, but she recognized expensive when she saw it.

His build was lean and muscular, but he was only a few inches taller than she was. He stood with his weight rested on his back foot. She knew that stance. It allowed balance and quick movement. It told her not to underestimate him. She’d seen some incredible martial artists almost a foot shorter than this man who could kill with the smallest movement. She had a feeling this man was just as lethal.

She started to back out of the kitchen, her hands up in front of her. “Who are you? What do you want?’

He pulled a knife from a sheath on his belt. “Forgive me for not introducing myself. How rude. I'm Paul. And I want you, of course.” He lunged across the room.

Laney sprinted out of the kitchen, just evading his outstretched hand. She struggled with the locks at the front door and then dove for the floor as the man plunged his knife into the door where she’d been standing. He’d stabbed so hard, it was embedded up to the hilt. Rolling out of the way, she had just gained her feet when he yanked her up by the hair.

Without a thought, she launched her fist back, angling her body to land the hammer punch in his groin. He grunted and released her. Pulling the coat rack down as she passed, she ran for the kitchen.

Her heart rate spiked as his footsteps pounded behind her. That groin shot should have given her enough time to get to the back door at least. How was he still coming?

Waiting until the last possible moment, she whirled and slammed her left foot into his stomach. As he doubled over, she launched a sidekick to his face, followed by a round kick to his knee. The man put his hands up to cover his face as she aimed a series of straight punches that would have decimated a lesser man. He blocked them with ease.

“Now, this is a nice surprise.” He grinned, catching her fist. “Someone who can fight.”

He flung her fist back, followed by a right jab to the face.

She parried the punch, ready to respond, but then a flurry of punches followed. She had no time to respond, only to block. The speed and power of his movements was incredible. She blocked a hook to the ribs only to miss the jab to her face. She spun around with the force of the punch. Her stomach jammed painfully into the island.

He wrenched her back by the shoulder, but not before her hand closed around one of the knives in the block sitting on the island.

Turning her around, he dragged her towards him. “This has been fun, Professor. But I think it’s time to end this dance.”

“I agree,” Laney spit out. She plunged the knife into his stomach and twisted it.

He howled in pain. Laney collapsed to the ground and began to crawl for the back door.

“You bitch.” He threw himself on top of her. Pain exploded in her cheekbone and ribs as they collided with the floor. He rolled her over, keeping her pinned, the knife now at her throat.

She screamed, bringing her knee up into his groin.

With a groan, he loosened his grip. Twisting his wrist, she stripped the knife from his hand. It skittered across the floor, out of reach.

Keeping his wrist bent, she got a knee in between them, punching him in the face over and over again. Working her other leg up, she kicked him in the chest. She slid back along the floor, giving her just enough distance between them to kick him in the face. Using both feet, she slammed them into his face, launching him on to his back.