Angels of War (Angels of War Trilogy Book 1) (15 page)

Temeculus walked over to a battered car, leaned against the crumpled hood and folded his arms. He moved the straw about in his mouth. “Do you all disagree with what he said to me?” The crowd mumbled amongst themselves. Some said no, some said yes, some remained silent and stared at him in wide-eyed terror.

“I don’t want any of you to fear me.” He relaxed his arms at his sides. “Yes, I snapped this young man’s neck. Forget what I did. I am trying to prove something to him and to you all here,” he said.
 

He pointed at the body on the ground. “Arise and breathe my child.” He ambled forward slow and bow-legged to approach the skittish crowd mesmerized by his words. “Arise and breathe.”

The demon Ekliar, invisible to others, but not to his master entered the young man’s dead body. The body twitched on the ground. His chest heaved and his arms moved about. His eyes blinked open and he coughed, sat up and stood to his feet. People moved in closer, some hesitant at the sight before their eyes.

Temeculus delivered a beautiful smile. “Don’t hesitate. Please. Come closer. In fact, each of you in this crowd, I want you to walk by him and touch him. Speak to him and understand he is real. God in Heaven did not do this. My father in Hell did this through me.” The masses moved closer to touch the young man who smiled.

Temeculus stood back. “What is your name?”

The young man turned to face the general. “My name is Rodger, lord,” he said. “I dedicate my life to you and my one and only true delivery from death.” He knelt before Temeculus, bowed his head, and stretched out on the ground flat before him.

“Rise and face the crowd, Rodger.”

Rodger rose and turned to the crowd. “Where is God? He is in Heaven, protected by His gates and His angels. He left us here to die. I died and God refused me and sent me to Hell. In Hell I beheld my father’s house. I walked through castles and mansions of gold, no one starved in my true father’s house.”
 

He pointed towards the open Bible on the ground, its thin pages fluttering in the cold wind. “Don’t believe what is written in the Bible, a centuries old relic filled with lies. Satan is the only truth and I am his proof.”
 

Rodger turned to Temeculus, back to the frightened masses. “Join me. Join us to deliver this world into the light. Let Satan take away your pain, your sorrow. Imagine a world with no more death. Come. Come.”

The general placed a hand on Roger’s shoulder. He pressed a spatulate left thumb against his forehead and burned the number sixty-six into the skin. “For those wishing to follow me, you must take this number. You only get two until Satan reaches this planet. Reaches here and take away your fears and pain. Lord Lucifer will deliver you the third and final number. The final six. The Bible is wrong. This is the number of life,” he said and pointed a thick finger at the sixty-six burned into Rodger’s forehead.
 

“This will show your allegiance to the true father of man. Come and pledge yourselves now, or get from my sight.”

People approached. At first by ones and soon in groups, families, and church congregations clotted the line to stand before Temeculus. On each one, he shoved his thumb against their forehead and seared two sixes into their skin.
 

He created an army, fifty thousand souls eager to do Satan’s work on earth. The human army occupied Los Angeles and more murder began. The supplicants killed those who refused the mark, and they died by the thousands.
 

Temeculus returned to his true form. He stretched his black leathery wings from behind him and took flight. He returned to the balcony to witness the chaos and murder below him. His army grew as darkness settled over the city. A fiendish smile played upon his face.
 

Black Angel walked from Hell’s Cathedral to stand by her master’s side. “General, the plan unfolds like you envisioned.”

Temeculus slid a hand around the she-devil’s slender waist. “Joan is here. She is a problem I did not foresee. Black Angel, I need you to find the Key and bring her here to Hell’s Cathedral.”

Black Angel gave the general a slight bow. She leaped into the air. With sword in hand she rounded up a few undead Roman cavalry. The small group rallied around her and took off into the bleak skies.

“Now, time to destroy them all.” He raised his hands into the air. “Victory shall be yours, Satan.”
 

26

Maria Erella Gonzalez sat in her living room with her Bible in hand. The voice in her head settled down to a whisper and soon ceased. Within an hour after the voice stopped she no longer questioned her sanity.
 

A beautiful song carried on the wind reached the closed window across the room she read her Bible in. Her grandmother walked from the kitchen and opened the living room window. The sweet song floated in like a sparrow and played on the warm night air.

“Angels are singing,” the old woman said in Spanish.

Maria set her Bible aside and stood from her chair to join her grandmother at the window. The music reached her ears strong and clear. Each note floated carefree like colorful butterflies at her ears. She discovered where the sweet voice came from, and like a key, each note unlocked the mystery in her head. She did not comprehend why, a door within her mind needed to open.
 

This door stood heavy and old, shrouded in cobwebs and dusty memories. The delicate song moved the rusted tumblers within the lock and did more work on her mind than the voice tried to do for the past ten hours.
 

Maria sensed the world underneath her feet and around her in a way she never experienced before. A cricket in her backyard rubbed its legs to create a high musical chirp. The insect sat perched on the balcony railing outside. She caught her grandmother’s heart drum out its irregular beats. Voices from several choirs in the cathedrals along dusty roads slipped through the window.
 

She picked out each person’s voice in the choir as if the singer stood next her. She sensed a little girl at a window in a small house, her voice powerful.
 

Maria rushed from the window and to the balcony. Her lungs tightened and expanded with air. Mexico City sat below the hill she lived on, vibrant and unaware. Her eyes watered and her heart filled with a strong love for humanity. An urge to protect echoed in her soul and became a huge torrent.
 

She approached the black rail. Her thighs trembling. Below her sat hills and small towns dotted with dreamy lights. She sensed where the girl stood at the window. A strong urge to save the child came over her. Maria grabbed the rail with one hand and vaulted over the edge and into the thick woods fifty feet below.

Maria landed on the soft ground, startled by what occurred. She gazed up through the tangled vines and thick tree trunks above her. For a few seconds she stared at the balcony’s underside. The voice in her head returned with an inarticulate scream. Maria caught the urgency in the voice.
 

She pushed aside her amazement and plunged into the woods before her. Bloody scratches scoured her face and arms as she drove headlong through the brush. The girl’s voice hooked her and an invisible line yanked Maria to the house.
 

The angel appeared from the trees and found herself at a cliff. She peered down its sheer drop. Vertigo swept her for a second, her lower belly tightened. Her eyes held the darkness beneath her. She took a deep breath, pushed the wonder from her mind and leaped off the one hundred foot drop.
 

Maria fell. To her surprise she settled on her feet like an eagle. She sprinted a mile down a road and reached a small village. Once in the village she followed the girl’s sweet voice until she discovered a tiny house as the source of the exquisite song. At the window stood the girl, her mouth opened, the muscles in her throat flexed. Her vocal cords pumped out a tune powerful enough to set worlds right.

Maria turned to face the black starless skies. From a distance dark clouds rolled from the north like thunderheads birthing a storm. Villager’s cries and shouts broke the serene music. People pointed at the night skies and ran into their homes. The girl’s beautiful voice stopped its song like someone turned off a generator’s power. Her eyes widened, a short woman pulled her away from the window and slammed the shutters close.

Maria ran up to the house and knocked a fist against the door. The voice ordered her to kick in the thin dirty screen and the weak wooden door to the house. She ignored the voice and knocked several times to no avail. She stole a glance at the skies. The cloud changed its trajectory. In the distance, the dark swollen mass descended for the tiny home.
 

Within the clouds flashed several horses. Hooves and dull metal broke from the clouds. Her heart beat hard in her chest, this time the voice screamed in her mind.
 

“Walk through the door,” Joan said.
 

Maria stepped through the particleboard door.

Once inside the home, the angel spotted two family members rush into a back room. The Key stood in a short hall, frozen, her eyes wide and teary. Maria blinked her own eyes. Her head swooned as if she turned in circles several times. The entire event rushed in on her. She became angry at her slowness to accept the event.
 

The heavy door in her mind swung open. Beyond the door sat her armor. She reached for her helmet made from pure silver and etched with doves. On its top sat a white vertical fan plume. Next, she grabbed her breastplate. The upper armor fitted over her torso and covered her muscled abdomen in detailed silver decorated with doves and lotuses.
 

An armored silver skirt wrapped around her waist. Silver greaves covered her forearms and shins. Caligae, the brown Roman sandals, graced her pretty feet. Her wings pushed out from her back, huge and powerful like a dove. Her sword appeared at her right side.
 

The jeweled sword hilt sparkled with colorful precious stones. She flapped her wings from behind her to actualize their existence.
 

A tiny gasp escaped Maria’s full lips. She ran her fingers over the silver armor she wore. The lotus flowers and doves etched into its delicate yet tough metal caught her attention with its rich detail. Every muscle in her body hardened, her butt tightened and hard muscle rippled along her long thighs and arms.

The loopy dizziness subsided within her head. She took three slow breaths to calm her nerves and prepare her mind for whatever wickedness approached from above.
 

Immortal power coursed through her muscles like white fire. She stared into the Key’s eyes and determined the beasts hurtling from the skies targeted her. Maria foresaw this, as if someone pushed the thought into her mind. Maria needed to rescue the girl. Her hands, slender and strong, ached to fight. Sour doubt whispered in her head. Her fighting skills diminished after so many centuries adrift as a mortal.

“Jump in there and fight,” Joan said. Her angelic voice filled Maria’s head.
 

Maria left hand grasped her sword hilt. Her brown eyes locked on the skinny girl.
 

The house trembled from the foundation to the eaves as the front wall exploded in glass, splinters, and flames. Maria pushed the girl away with one hand.

The little one slid across the cracked linoleum floor, up the hall, and stopped between the old man and woman. The lights in the house flickered. Dust swirled in the sulfur-filled air. With her left hand, Maria drew her perfect blade forged in Heaven.
 

Five undead Roman soldiers burst from the dust and smoke. They screamed and wielded ancient weapons. The first one drew back his battleax. Maria swung her blade, slicing off its head with an awkward stroke. She needed to move faster and cut cleaner.
 

Maria lifted her sword and gave a war cry as the other four attacked. Her strong voice cracked the cold concrete foundation. She bolted forward to fight the soldiers who intended to steal the Key. Their blades struck against hers. Their weapons clanged and crashed. Maria fought hard and pushed the enemy back from the Key. She knocked them off balance and beheaded the first two soldiers in one stroke.
 

Their bodies fell against the two who tried to flank her. She leaped forward and drove her blade into the one on her left, twisted the weapon, retrieved her blade and lopped off his head. Without hesitation she struck his partner down. Her bright blade cleaved his skull in half. The body dropped at her feet.

Maria stood over the bodies as they vanished. Her arms trembled from adrenalin. She steadied her sword. Its edge still shimmered. She gazed at the hole blown into the house.
 

Outside rain began to fall.

The angel turned to face the girl whose huge brown eyes, wet with tears, seemed far older than what her body proclaimed her to be. Maria swept the shattered living space with keen eyes. Sniffles rose from a room in the house, joined by soft prayers. She crossed the room to the Key.
 

“We need to go, child,” Maria said. “Or you may die here.”

“My name is Lucia and I don’t want my caretakers to die. Your job is to protect them also.”

Maria sheathed her bright sword. Again, she did a quick pause to admire her armor before she turned towards Lucia. “Tell them to leave now and don’t lecture me about my job little girl. A bigger problem is headed our way.”

Lucia rolled her eyes and stomped into the small room where the old couple hid. Rapid fire Spanish spilled from the room. Maria listened to a voice refuse the option the Key offered. A more desperate conversation ensued in Spanish. The three came out the room. The old woman shook her head in vehemence, the old man’s face set firm in a defiant scowl.

Maria flinched as the voice in her head rose to a terrified shriek. She drew her sword, the lights within the tiny house flickered out to bathe them all in darkness. “Lucia, let’s go now.”

“One more…”