The Belial Stone(6)

A chill went through her and her head jerked up. The file. He said he was sending her a file. What if he’d asked for help and she hadn't known?

She flew up the stairs and into her office, guilt and fear dogging her steps. She flipped open her laptop and hit the power button.

After an agonizing wait, she entered her password and made her way to her email program. Scrolling through the unsolicited ads and emails from students and colleagues, she found the email from Drew, entitled: For Your Eyes Only :). She smiled at the emoticon.

She moved the mouse over to it and, taking a deep breath, double-clicked. A dialogue box opened:



Hey, Laney. Thanks for letting me vent earlier. I think I just needed someone to listen. I’ve attached the file. Can you read it and get back to me with any comments? You are a lifesaver!

And I was thinking, I’ve got some free time coming up in a few weeks. Mind if I come up for a visit? It'd be great to see you and your uncle. It’s been way too long.

Love ya lots,

Drew



She stared at the screen, trying to find some hidden meaning in Drew’s words. But there were none. It was just what it appeared to be: a message asking for help with a paper and about getting together in the future. Nothing sinister, nothing despairing. Just normal.

Tears once again threatened, but this time they were tinged with relief. He hadn’t killed himself. She knew he hadn’t. So what had happened?

She glanced at the attached file link. She moved the mouse to click on it and paused. Not quite yet.

She ran down the stairs and found her keys. Sprinting back to the office, she inserted the flash drive attached to her key ring and copied the file.

“Probably just being paranoid,” she muttered.

She stared at the screen before forcing herself to click on the file. A Word document opened up, entitled: The Belial Stone. She smiled. Drew always did like making waves with his titles.

And the term Belial would certainly do that. Depending upon the source you were reading, Belial denoted either wickedness or even the Devil himself. The term appeared in the Bible multiple times as well as in a number of the Gnostic Gospels.

She remembered the project she and Drew had developed. It incorporated the final apocalyptic battle between the Sons of Belial and the Children of the Light depicted in the Hebrew War Scroll. But she’d never heard of the term Belial associated with a stone before.

She started reading through the first few sentences and couldn’t make it further. His writing style was almost as familiar to her as her own. She stifled a sob. She wasn’t ready to read this. She closed down the file and ejected the flash drive.

Laney pictured Drew when they’d met freshman year of college. He’d been hopelessly lost in the library, and she’d been equally confused. Together, they’d found the books they needed. Realizing they were both majoring in anthropology, they spent most of their time together from that point on. They’d been each other’s shoulder when their love lives had careened off the rails and the person they could always count on for a laugh. He was the brother she’d never had. And now he was gone.

She couldn’t stifle the sob that escaped her lips this time. And she didn’t try to stop those that followed. She slid off the chair and onto the floor, giving in to the tears. The grief enveloped her.

At the edges of her mind, however, a single question whispered: If Drew hadn’t killed himself, then who had?





CHAPTER 5



New York City, NY



The sounds of Pavarotti breathed through the penthouse, his soulful tenor seeming to reach for the dome of the cathedral ceilings. Gideon stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Central Park, his eyes closed, embracing the emotion of the music. As the last strains of the aria died away, he opened his eyes and watched the traffic crawl through the Manhattan streets below.

He drained his wineglass and walked to the dark granite island, taking a seat at one of the high-backed leather chairs. He refilled the glass from the bottle of cabernet he’d left to breathe.

Swirling the dark liquid in his glass, he powered up the laptop in front of him. “So, Mr. Masters, let’s see what you’ve figured out.”

He pulled up the most recent documents. The title of the first one leapt off the screen at him. He quickly scanned the document.

“My, my, aren’t you a clever boy,” he murmured. His anger began to simmer as he realized how Priddle’s trust of Drew Masters could have ruined everything. If this had gotten out…

He glanced through the remainder of the files, shaking his head at how truly dangerous Priddle’s actions had been. That fool. He punched a number into his phone.

“Dr. Arthur Priddle.”