The Belial Plan
A Belial Series Novel
R.D. Brady
Scottish Seoul Publishing, LLC
Contents
List of Characters
Untitled
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Untitled
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
Chapter 116
Chapter 117
Chapter 118
Chapter 119
Chapter 120
Chapter 121
Chapter 122
Chapter 123
124. FACT OR FICTION?
125. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Books By R.D. Brady
126. Excerpt from ‘The Belial Plan’ (Coming February 2017)
List of Characters
Sparta and Mycenae
Helen—Queen of Sparta, ring bearer
Menelaus—husband of Helen
Hermione—daughter of Helen and Menelaus
Davos—son of Helen and Menelaus
Theron—son of Helen and Menelaus
Castor—Helen’s brother, Pollux’s twin
Pollux—Helen’s brother, Castor’s twin
Achilles—hero of the Trojan War
Clytemnestra—Helen’s twin sister
Leda— Queen of Sparta, mother of Helen
Tyndareus—King of Sparta, father of Helen
Proteus—King of Pharos, Egypt, father of Barnabus, close friend of Leda
Barnabus—illegitimate son of Proteus, friend of the Spartan royal family
Agamemnon—King of Mycenae, Menelaus’s brother, Clytemnestra’s husband
Iphigenia—daughter of Clytemnestra and Agamemnon
Morcant—loyal servant of Clytemnestra
Adorna—loyal servant of Helen
Cergen—Agamemnon’s servant from Mycenae
Faenus—Zeus's agent who scoured the globe for him
Claudius - Agamemnon's spy
Troy
Paris—Prince of Troy, scum of the earth
Priam—King of Troy, father of Paris, Cassandra, and Hector
Hecuba—Queen of Troy, mother of Paris, Cassandra, and Hector
Cassandra—sister of Hector and Paris, daughter of Priam and Hecuba
Patroclus—best friend of Achilles
Briseis—spoil of war given to Achilles
Chrysies—spoil of war given to Agamemnon
Hector—brother of Paris, son of Priam and Hecuba
Dugal—Myrmidon, one of Achilles’s closest friends
Agaro—Paris’s servant
Crete
Minos—King of Crete
Orestes—young boy from Minos’s palace
Gaelous—successor to Minos
* For the sake of reader understanding, modern geographic names are often used rather than historical ones.
“Indeed, she was proud to have inflamed leaders, to have torn apart the world in war,
and to have gained an infamous reputation for her shameful beauty.”
—Joseph of Exeter, Trojan War (AD 1180)
“Well-behaved women seldom make history.”
—Pulitzer Prize-winning historian Laurel Thatcher Ulrich
Chapter 1
The Chandler School for Children, Baltimore, Maryland
Six months before the world turned against Delaney McPhearson
The sea of teenage faces looked up at Father Patrick Delaney as he stood in front of the classroom. Most were engaged, although more than a few glanced toward the clock, counting down the last few minutes of the class.
Patrick ignored the clock-checkers and focused on the engaged instead. “The city of Troy and the Trojan War were long believed to be a legend, until the 1870 discovery of Troy in Turkey by Heinrich Schliemann.”
A girl with long, dark, wavy hair and bright eyes shot her hand into the air.
“Lou?” Patrick asked.
“But I was reading that Schliemann actually stole the site from a guy named Calvert.”
Patrick smiled. Lou Thomas, age sixteen and a Fallen, had taken to history like a duck to water. She was always looking for more reading above and beyond what he assigned in class.
“That’s true,” he said. “Originally, Schliemann wasn’t even interested in Troy. It wasn’t until after touring the world that he met up with Frank Calvert and developed an interest in the ancient city. At the time, there were three potential spots in Turkey where Troy was believed to be located: Bunarbashi, Hisarlik, and Alexandria Trois. The third was believed by many to be a long shot. The first, Bunarbashi, was believed to be the most likely. But Frank Calvert, he was digging at Hisarlik. In fact, by the time Schliemann arrived, Calvert had been d
igging at Hisarlik for seven years. He had dug three trenches and found enough to convince him he was at the correct site.”
“Well, Calvert told Schliemann all about his finds and beliefs. Within a year, Schliemann was digging at Hisarlik under Calvert’s permit and with Calvert’s men. When he struck pay dirt, he gave Calvert absolutely no recognition.”
“Jerk,” Lou muttered.
Patrick smiled. “Yes, I would have to agree.”
A hand shot up in the back. Patrick called on Chris Santos.
“So,” said Chris, “if they found Troy, does that mean everything that Homer said about the Trojan War was right? Gods, a ten-year war, and cheating Helen?”
A few students chuckled at Chris’s last words, and Patrick tried not to cringe. Ever since he had learned that his niece, Delaney McPhearson, had been Helen of Troy in a previous life, he had been researching the historical figure to try and figure out the truth about who she was. And while it was proving a difficult endeavor, he could at least say that history seemed equally clueless when it came to the famous queen.
“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” Patrick said. “But you have to remember that the Spartans never wrote down their own history—the facts were handed down by oral tradition only. And Homer’s tale was written five hundred years after the Trojan War, so it—like any tale handed down by oral tradition, or like any game of ‘telephone’—undeniably changed in that time, no doubt making it more exciting, and less accurate.”
Theresa Schneider, who usually sat quietly in the first row, spoke up, her voice shaky. “But the gods—they were us, weren’t they?”
Now Patrick had the attention of everyone in the classroom. Every set of eyes looked at him, as everyone wanted an answer to that question. Because the Chandler School for Children was no ordinary school. All the students here were either Fallen, or they were nephilim—the child of a human and a Fallen angel. And all of them knew that this was not the first lifetime they had lived—although none could remember those past lives. Now like Patrick, they wondered which moments of history they had been a part of.
The idea of past lives wasn’t an easy thing to accept—especially for Patrick, a Roman Catholic priest. But when he was preparing for this lecture, he knew this question was going to come up. He took a breath, sitting on the edge of his desk. “I think it’s possible, yes. The gods had incredible abilities—speed, strength—but also some that were supernatural, like the ability to control the weather or move the sun across the sky. I think the stories of the gods, like the tale of the Trojan War, are based in fact but diluted by exaggeration.”
The bell sounded, and everyone looked up. “Okay, read chapters seventeen through nineteen by Friday. There will be a quiz.”
A groan sounded across the room, making Patrick smile. He gathered his papers and pushed them into his briefcase as the students filed out.
“Father Patrick?”
He looked up. “Lou. What can I do for you?”
“The Bronze Age, it was also called the Age of Heroes, right?”
Patrick nodded. “Yes.”
“But there were no women. All the heroes—they were men. The women were all supporting players. Cassandra, Leda, Hecuba, even Helen—and the whole war’s about her.”
“That’s how it’s written, yes.”
Lou shot a quick glance behind her, and Patrick had the impression she was checking to make sure everyone was gone before speaking. “Do you think that’s true? That the women had nothing to do with the war besides Helen being the catalyst? That it was only the men that were the heroes? I mean, do you really think Helen of Troy was nothing more than the adulteress history has made her out to be?”
As Patrick looked into Lou’s eyes, he knew this question was more than just an academic one. All the students knew Laney was the ring bearer, and they looked up to her; Laney was a superhero come to life. Lou felt the same way. But what Lou knew that the others didn’t was that Laney had once been Helen of Troy.
“What I said in class was true,” Patrick said. “The Iliad was written at least five hundred years after the Trojan War. And that was a time when women were viewed as little more than property; a strong woman in any capacity would have been viewed unkindly. And history was written by men. I think Helen is another case of history being particularly judgmental, if not downright inaccurate, about women.”
“So you think she was more than an empty-headed woman controlled by her passions?”
Patrick smiled. “Helen is called Helen of Troy but remember, Helen was the Queen of Sparta. Spartan women were not easily fooled, nor did they suffer fools easily, which is what Paris appears to have been. She was known around the world well before The Iliad was written. For hundreds of years after her death, there were cults dedicated to her across the Mediterranean. So no, I don’t think she was simply a pretty face who launched a thousand ships. I think history has been very unfair to her.”
“What do you think the real story is?”
“I don’t know. And I don’t think we ever will.”
Lou grinned. “But it’s probably a good story.”
Patrick pictured his niece. Time and time again she had faced every challenge presented her, at great cost to herself. And she had kept her morality and her priorities correct through it all—protect as many as you can and do the right thing, no matter how hard it may be.
“Yes,” said Patrick. “I think whatever the true tale is, it’s probably amazing.”
Chapter 2
Sparta, Greece
1450 BC
The sword arced toward her head. Thirteen-year-old Helen of Sparta, heir to the Spartan throne, ducked. She stepped under Lucia’s outstretched arm, grabbed it, and slammed her elbow into it, breaking it.
Lucia cried out, and Helen twisted the woman’s wrist, stripping the sword from her hand.
Helen let Lucia drop as she scanned the courtyard for more opponents. Not one of the muscular women dressed in leather tunics now stood to face her. A few women held their sides. Blood dotted more than a few faces and bodies. It was Helen who was responsible for their injuries but she felt no guilt.
And none of the women held any resentment at her for being the creator of those injuries. A few even smiled as she scanned across them. Finally her gaze came to rest on the woman in charge of all female training for more than fifteen years. Boudica’s body was pure, sculpted muscle. She stepped forward with a rare grin. “Well done, Helen.”
Helen straightened, feeling a sense of accomplishment. This was the annual test of strength: all the women in Sparta without children fought for the honor of top warrior. And for the first time, Helen had won—and she had done so at a younger age than any woman in the rite’s history.
A chuckle came from behind her. “Yes. Nicely done, sister.”
Helen glanced back. Two eighteen-year-old men—identical from their blond hair, deep violet blue eyes, and muscular builds down to the matching smirks on their faces—lounged against the stable wall.
“What are you doing here?” Helen asked.
Castor and Pollux strode toward her. Helen noticed more than one woman straighten her posture as they approached, and she stifled a sigh. Her brothers could turn fierce warriors into giggling schoolgirls with one look.
Pollux beckoned her toward them. “Come with us.”
Helen frowned, but she nodded at her sisters-in-arms and followed her brothers out of the courtyard.
The boys set a quick pace through the busy training grounds. Helen felt proud as she witnessed the Spartan warriors competing in archery, wrestling, hand-to-hand combat, swords, and staffs. These were her people, and they were the greatest fighting force in the world.
The boys turned away from the main house and instead cut through a side gate that led to the hills north of the citadel.
Helen frowned. “Where are we going?”
Castor glanced back. “You’ll see.”
With a grin, the twins began to race for the top of the hill. Helen sprinted after them. Pollux blurred, and in seconds he was at the top, waving down at them.
“Cheater,” Castor yelled, but Helen just dug in and sprinted past her brother with a grin.
“Hey!” Castor yelped, picking up the pace. They reached the summit side by side, both panting.
Even without the sprint, the view would have taken Helen’s breath away. Almost all of Sparta lay spread out before her. The river valley was bounded by Mount Taygetus to the west and Mount Parnon to the east, and behind her, hills reaching thousands of meters high added to the natural boundaries that had kept Sparta from ever being sacked. The Eurotas River itself ran right through Sparta, sparkling in the sun, and providing fresh water to the city.
Castor and Pollux headed to the plateau used for competition, and Helen followed. Ruts in the dirt showed where the chariot races had been held, and the benches were still in place for the crowds. Helen loved watching the competitions. Of course, she would have preferred to compete herself, but her mother never let her. Some nonsense about her being female and it being unfair to the other male competitors. Sparta might know the true value of a woman, but the rest of the world was still outdated in its views.
Her brothers stopped five feet ahead of her and turned their feet braced apart. Helen came up short, glancing between the two of them. Castor threw a sword at her feet.
Keeping her gaze on them, Helen crouched down to pick up the sword. “Okay. So what exactly are we doing?”
“Pollux and I have decided that you need learn how to fight.”
Helen laughed. “Did you guys miss the big announcement? I’ve just beaten every woman in Sparta.”
Castor smiled. “And now we’ll teach you to beat every man.” He lunged.
Chapter 3
Halfway between Prudhoe Bay and Barrow, Alaska
Present day
A small man with a large hammer was trying to pound his way out of Delaney McPhearson’s skull. Even with the pain, she clung to the memory of the dream. Helen’s life played out behind her eyes, and she felt the lingering warmth of her friendship with her brothers, Castor and Pollux. The three of them had formed the triad—just like Laney, Jake, and Henry did today.