Angels of War (Angels of War Trilogy Book 1) (3 page)

“Ready for battle, and you must find the other four angels,” he said. He approached her in a slow stride. “Please don’t be afraid. I understand your fear. A long time ago you fought a battle and took to the skies as an angel. Your skills will be questionable.”

Joan’s eyes rested upon the window and the unpleasant weather beyond the tempered glass. She recalled the Battle of Seven Gates and the horror brought upon such a beautiful kingdom. “I remember some things, but not everything. The centuries is covered in thick dust and the cleaning in my mind is too slow.”

“Your full awareness will take some time. The long centuries dulled your talents, your thoughts are muddy, but you do realize who you are?”

Joan pursed her lips. “Almost, as if I’m emerging from an old passage so ancient my brain is having a hard time comprehending this reality. I am. An angel.”

Michael’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re coming around?”

Joan shrugged her tiny shoulders. “I think so, Michael. I have died so many times on this planet. I remember pain, joy and being born. My past life is a blur. I remember being happy.” She shook her head. “I remember my families, the children I bore. I remember growing old.”

“You remember those things here on earth. You must remember your true self and your oath.” His voice became smooth and hypnotic. “Recall the angel from your past.”

Joan closed her eyes. Pure power surged through her soul as if electricity struck her with a blue bolt. She opened her eyes and stared at the archangel. “I do this now, and wish never again to be mortal.”

Michael remained silent.

“I love them all and want to protect them all.”

“Do so,” Michael said.

Joan approached the window and faced the city washed in rain. The hidden past pulled together from her memories. She explored the old attic in her mind. She stumbled upon dusty relics lost in an almost forgotten past. “I do so now.”
 

She spread her small fingers apart. The tiny hairs on her arms lifted as blue electrical power rose within her. A power made from love and hardened by faith. The energy crackled as if she stuck her finger in a socket powered by the universe. Tears spilled from her eyes.
 

Joan lifted and opened her right hand. Golden light stirred and throbbed in her palm. A sword appeared in her mind. Her heartbeat quickened as the light narrowed and rose up from her palm to twenty-eight inches. A six-inch hilt made from gold and decorated with colorful jewels appeared.
 

She balanced the hilt upright as a silver blade formed above the jeweled handle. The blade’s honed edge vanished from view.

She turned her hand. The hilt dropped into her grasp. The sword’s lightness amazed her, as if she held a tennis racket. She lifted the blade to her face. Its silver gleam threw a reflection against her brown eyes.
 

“I remember you,” she said. The blade flashed as she took in its beauty. “I also remember the blood we spilled.” The gladius faded from her hand. “Tell me what I need to do, archangel.”

4

Michael pulled up a chair, spun the seat backwards, sat down, and rested his arms on the backrest. He gestured for Joan to take a seat. She sat atop her huge desk.
 

“In Hell at this moment, Lucifer’s top general, whose name is Temeculus, is leading an army to earth. For some reason, Satan became impatient for the Apocalypse to start. So he’s taking the first shot,” Michael said.
 

He leaned forward. “Satan wants to escape from a side gate. Not the main gate we secured for so many centuries. Lucifer assumes with the wars and violence across the earth, the time is right.”

Michael licked his lips. “General Temeculus is coming to earth with half his powers he owned in Hell, along with a small legion, about one hundred thousand troops. At this moment they are headed to Los Angeles.”
 

Joan’s stomach fluttered. “We are supposed to stop a legion, one hundred thousand demons headed for L.A., with five angels?”

“You will not be doing this alone, Joan. You will enlist human help along with the four angels.”

Joan lifted her right eyebrow. “Beg your pardon, but one hundred thousand inhuman things, against humans. The enemy army is stronger than any mortal army.” She recalled the Battle of Seven Gates. Sword strikes reached her ears with a faint echo.
 

Michael nodded. “Temeculus is betting on making everyone on this planet afraid. He is going to use death and money, and glory if they defeat the good. He wants to release the Dragon from the side gate.”

“Satan, with all his powers restored. Why can’t you send angels to protect this gate?”

“We are. We’re sending five of you.” Michael rubbed his big hands together. “Lucifer’s primary goal is to dictate the Second Coming, and we cannot allow him to accomplish his goal.”

“He wants the advantage?”

“Yea.”

Joan ran her fingers through her black hair. “I don’t understand why you and the other higher ranked angels can’t stop him? Engage him in battle yourselves.”

 
“If we do, our hands are forced and the showdown would be devastating. God enters the battle, and we refuse to respond to Satan’s heavy handedness. God dictates the Second Coming, no one else. We want earth, we want souls saved before the Rapture, and we are far below our numbers, Joan.”

“Our numbers are low?” Joan clapped her hands. “So the decision is to keep the war a localized engagement, Biblically speaking?”
 

“This is a small battle Biblically speaking. However, thousands or millions will die, Joan. Some on earth will swell Temeculus’s numbers and ours, but not enough to grant us the victory we need. Not all in Heaven can be warriors, Joan. Same as here on earth, not everyone is expected to fight.”

“How do we fight them?”

“Steel only, blessed steel only. Modern weapons cannot destroy what is coming to earth. The mortals may kill a few with their bullets and bombs, but not enough to win a battle. You must train them to win. The armor and weapons from Heaven will bless them with a power needed to defeat the enemy.”

“Men on earth are too quick to grab a rifle, or launch off a missile to destroy their enemies,” she said. “They won’t believe me.”
 

The dim blast from an ancient battlefield horn rose in her head, the dismal call emerged from a deep pit underground. Her eyes widened for a moment.
 

“Yes, the enemy’s battle horn,” Michael said. “No, they won’t believe you. Therefore, here is what we need you to do. First, protect the Key from being captured.”

Joan took a breath to steady her nerves. “Where’s the Key?”

“In Mexico City, she lives in a tiny house on the city’s edge.”

“Is Temeculus aware she’s in Mexico?”

“No, but he will send his heralds to hunt for Lucia. The only way they can capture her is if she starts to sing. If they do take her, they can’t use her until the time is right.”

“Until the moons are aligned?”
 

Michael’s eyes narrowed at Joan’s facetiousness. “No, until they destroy the city above the back gate and this is not a joke.”

“Ok. What city will suffer this terrible fate?”

Michael shook his head and took Joan’s hands. “Denver. Below the Rocky Mountains, at the Garden of Angels, lies the back gate into Hell. They must secure the city to ensure their rear is fortified. You must also protect Lucia, the Key. She’s so innocent.”

“She’s not the only innocent child in this world,” Joan said. “Why this little girl than any other?” Why not my son?”
 

“God sent her here for this purpose, Joan. Her voice reaches a pitch so strong and lovely the back gate will open.”

Joan crossed her legs at the ankles. Her eyes fell upon the gun across the room on the floor hidden in the shadows. The rain outside abated.
 

“Why now, Michael?”

Michael hunched his shoulders and glanced skyward. “Not my will.”
 

He moved his hands from Joan’s tiny hands, stood from the chair and faced the window. “They are coming, Joan. They are on their way here. Their stench is like a million corpses and their calls are grunts and curses.” Michael lifted his head, his nostrils flared as a frown crossed his face.

Joan slid off the desk and moved beside Michael to gaze over the slate colored city. Doubt rushed in on her. The big job she volunteered for over millennia ago became real. Perhaps this old Joan, the warrior angel, will arrive before the battle. “What first?”

“They are coming to California, to Los Angeles. The trip from Hell is long and arduous.”

“I’ll go to Los Angeles and stop them.”

“No,” he said. His voice rolled like a lion’s growl. “Not alone, they will kill you.”

Joan canted her head. “Michael, I thought I couldn’t die. Am I not an angel?”
 

“We suffer pain and heal fast, if you’re decapitated you’ll be sent back to Heaven until the Second Coming. Waiting and training will be your punishment for being reckless with your talent.”

“Oh…okay,” Joan said. “So what do I do?”

“Go to Washington D.C. and tell the president Hell is coming and he should help you prepare an army.”

“We are talking about President Wallace. He’s a stubborn leader, Michael.”

“He prays every morning and night. He should believe you. If not, when you fight a herald he will accept your offer.”

Joan folded her arms. “Who are they, the heralds…or what are they?”

“Monsters, whose purpose is to spread fear and death on earth. You must fight them. One will be heading for the east coast to meet the president, to try and scare him into allying with General Temeculus.”

“So, Temeculus needs a large enough human army to take the world.”

“Correct, but he must reap more souls on his side to send to his master. This will fatten the numbers for the army in Hell. You must convince them to fight even though they refuse to join either side.”

“I don’t remember how to fight.”

“You will remember, Joan. Once you draw your blade and slice through your first enemy all will come back to you.”

“You talk like I enjoyed battle.”

“You enjoyed a good fight, Joan.” His eyes took on a faraway stare. “In fact God thought you enjoyed war a little too much, but Jesus thought you ok.” Michael turned to face the small brown woman. “Face me.”

Joan faced him. Michael reached forward and grasped her small forearm followed by a sly wink.

“Hold on.”

5

The last time Joan experienced the sensation, she sat in a roller coaster at King’s Dominion amusement park. Her body propelled upwards with a sudden rush. She found seconds to glance up before they raced through the ceiling. In a white flash, the two angels stood on the Roaner Building’s rooftop.

Joan’s knees buckled and Michael steadied her. Above them dark clouds floated west, a high wind blew in a low howl. “How did you get us here?”
 

Joan’s breath shortened. She swallowed cold air down her throat. Her heart drummed hard in her chest. Several voices echoed in her head. The voices seemed distant and urgent. Under normal circumstances she would question her sanity.
 

Michael touched her shoulder. “With a simple thought.”

Joan blinked her eyes. “A thought?”

Michael nodded. “Yes, now pay attention.”

The archangel Michael took three steps back. He winked at Joan and smiled, soon golden armor covered his body. He spread his wide hands out at his sides. “Way too easy, Joan.”

The new angel studied Michael’s armor. Despite the cloud packed skies, his armor glowed with a warm golden light. The helmet he wore resembled an eagle’s mouth in mid scream, its sharp beak hooked above his forehead. Golden armor covered him from chest to waist with muscled pectorals and rippled abs over his stomach. Around his waist, he wore an armored skirt made from beaten gold cut into strips to protect his muscular thighs and stopped an inch above his knees.
 

Underneath his armor, Michael wore a white silk tunic. A sheathed sword hung at his left side, its golden hilt unadorned. In his left hand, he held a solid gold spear with a silver tip.

“Fearsome,” Joan said. To her surprise, white wings with a six-foot span stretched from his powerful back. “A dove, those are dove wings.”
 

“Imagine your armor, Joan, like you thought about your sword.”

Joan pressed her lips together. Fragmented images flashed in her mind. Her armor appeared in sections. She tried to hold the thoughts all at once. The pieces, obscure, floated away into her shadowy memory.
 

Joan inhaled a steady breath and the parts appeared again. Gold metal flashed, two cherubs under each breast, their arms raised to support a sun surrounded by seven rays. At each mental attempt to grasp a piece, the item dissolved from view. “My armor won’t stay.”

“Breathe and concentrate and let your thoughts flow. You’re thinking way too much, Joan.”

Joan closed her eyes and took a breath. The wind rose in her ears, another cold blast from the west swooped down upon the two. The images began to appear in her mind again. She grasped one, reached for another and held the pictures. Her mental search seemed as though she dug into some ancient archeological site.
 

She sifted through the old memories, shook away the dust, and pulled aside sticky cobwebs until polished gold glinted before her eyes. After a few seconds, her entire armor materialized in its full glory.

Joan’s brown eyes flicked open. She gazed down at her tiny muscled frame protected in polished golden armor.

Michael delivered a strong smile. His appearance underneath his helmet softened. “Perfect, perfect.” He slapped a hand against his muscled thigh.

Joan struck a playful pose. Upon her head sat a gold helmet with gold cheek pieces on either side, atop this helmet sat a white plume, long and shiny, made from horsehair. Intricate gold Lotuses decorated the helmet. Her upper armor, gold also, molded against her frame with a cherub under each breast, both reaching out to the center, holding a sun with seven rays stretching out from the orb. Her armored six-pack abs tapered down towards her slender waist where she wore a golden armored skirt inlaid with gold lotus flowers.