by L. L Hunter
The Chronicles of Fire and Ice
Book one in The Legend
of the Archangel
L.L. Hunter
Copyright © 2012 by L.L. Hunter.
64 70 67 72 6f 75 70
ISBN: Softcover 978-1-4797-4030-7
ISBN: Ebook 978-1-4797-4031-4
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One Destiny
Chapter Two Impression
Chapter Three Talent
Chapter Four Legend
Chapter Five Chemistry
Chapter Six Strength
Chapter Seven Trait
Chapter Eight Darkness
Chapter Nine Light
Chapter Ten Voice
Chapter Eleven Debt
Chapter Twelve Dance
Chapter Thirteen Weapon
Chapter Fourteen Fight
Chapter Fifteen Descent
Chapter Sixteen Battle
Chapter Seventeen Martyr
Chapter Eighteen Fire
Chapter Nineteen Legacy
Chapter Twenty Rachael
Chapter Twenty One Frozen
Chapter Twenty Two Fate
Chapter Twenty Three Magick
Chapter Twenty Four Renew
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Dedication
For Fr. Laurie,
Who told me to never stop believing in angels.
Prologue
He spread his black wings out and wrapped them around her. The touch of his feathers on her skin were silky smooth and their colour was black as midnight but with a rainbow sheen often seen on birds. These feathers reminded her more of an opal the way the moonlight hit them. He brushed his lips against her neck, they were feather light but hungry. She sighed and leaned back into him, leaning her head against his shoulder.
And then she noticed his eyes and gasped. They seemed dark brown at first, hazel, chocolate even, and then the lighthouse beacon moved over them. She had never before seen so many colours: his irises split into a million different hues, every colour in the spectrum, like an opal but a thousand times more intense. He spoke, and it startled her. She didn’t know what she was expecting to come out of his mouth, something seductive maybe, but never this.
“Now I want you to fly.” He whispered in her ear.
The words paralysed her.
He spread his wings and leapt off the cliff they were standing on, carrying her with him.
That was the moment Scarlett woke up.
Chapter One
Destiny
Just a dream, only a dream, she kept telling herself, just another dream about the same thing. This was happening more and more often now. Scarlett groaned and rolled over to glance at the orange digits of her iPod dock display: 5.45am. Great, she thought, fifteen minutes before the alarm. She rolled out of bed and as her bare feet hit the cold floorboards she winced. Where these dreams were coming from she did not know. She sighed. This was just another day in Scarlett Porter’s life.
~
She stretched and zombie-walked her way downstairs, making a beeline for the coffee peculator; Scarlett could not function without a good strong cup of espresso first thing in the morning, or two.
While she waited for the coffee to cool, she tapped open the email inbox on her iPhone: twelve unread messages. She scrolled through and deleted the unwanted newsletters she regretted subscribing to. Then she stared at the three remaining emails on the screen. One from her mother: a chain email of supposedly funny sayings that she usually sent her, this one full of bad puns. Scarlett deleted it; she hated puns. The next two were more interesting. She tapped open the next on the list. It was from a friend who had left a week earlier to backpack through Europe. Scarlett was glad someone was having more fun than her. She sighed, sending it to her favourites file and moved on to the next message. Scarlett immediately perked up.
“Yes!” She saw the symbol on the letterhead and knew straight away what it meant. A clock face with the dramatic coat of arms on it; the happy and sad masks and on either side, like they were nurturing the clock, were two gold angel wings. This was the symbol for The Angel Academies. She took in the first few lines, which read:
Dear Miss Porter,
We are very pleased to announce that you have been accepted into The Blackbell Academy of Dramatic Arts—the Melbourne branch of The Gabriel Academy.
Blackbell wasn’t your ordinary run of the mill school; it was where you went if you wanted to discover your true self, your true lineage. There is a story that has been passed down from generation to generation, The Chronicle, which states that in the beginning, during the war of The Realms of Fire and Ice, Seraphim hid on Earth among humans to hide from Lucifer and his followers. But they weren’t hiding, they were preserving their bloodline, because they knew the Seraphim race was slowly dwindling, and Lucifer’s darkness and evil was spreading across the earth. To save themselves, the Seraphim bred with the human race.
Some people believe that our race descended from the first offspring of the first union of Seraphim and human, called Nephilim. They believe we all hold a little of their blood in our veins, and therefore their traits. Most traits stay dormant until around the age of twenty-one, because Angel blood is not activated until early adulthood. This is the time to enrol into an Academy.
Not everyone was pleased with the opening of these Academies. The first one, The Michael Academy, built in 1500 AD in London England, was burned to the ground in heavenly fire shortly after construction was completed. Some say it burned in hell fire, because the group responsible called themselves The Lucifites, followers of the Morning Star himself.
There was little mention of the Lucifites in The Chronicle. Since most believed that the group had been destroyed sometime in the 1800’s, that chapter had probably been removed. But some believed they were still around, spreading the filth of their master across the earth. There were rumours that they even inserted spies into the remaining Academies, posing as Professors, so they could slowly stain the goodness and light of the Michaelite’s work, and turn it into darkness and evil. But they were only rumours, and nothing was confirmed.
Scarlett smiled to herself as she read the rest of the letter; yes this was the day when her life would change.
~
She rode the tram into town just like every other morning, usually on her way to work at The Hidden Tree Book Emporium. The sky was a canvas of reds and oranges and yellows, the same spectrum as her hair. The sun was just beginning to rise; it was her favourite part of the day. She clutched her copy of The Chronicle tighter to her chest and thought about what being at Blackbell would be like—being away from her friends, who weren’t yet ready to come to an Academy. Scarlett had this feeling inside of her that she just couldn’t explain. Was it nerves? One thing was for certain, this was not going to be another ordinary day; today her tram took her on another route.
The tram came to a sudden stop, and Scarlett would’ve gone nose first into the seat in front if she hadn’t stopped herself straight away by grabbing onto the handrail. She had always had fast reflexes, hereditary or uncanny, she didn’t know. But hopefully her destination would tell.
The Michaelites, the founders of Academies all over the world, were a group of priests, brothers and nuns who named themselves after Michael the Archangel, defender and safeguard against Lucifer’s taunts.
Each Academy was named after an important Archangel, like Michael in London, Gabriel in Sydney, and Raphael in Los Angeles. Smaller branches of the academies were named after their founding families, such as the one Scarlett was going to today in Melbourne.
The name Blackbell wasn’t a very angelic sounding name,
but legend had it that the Blackbell family were descendants of Lucifer and that the Michaelites had been trying to get them shut down. The Blackbells denied any connection to Lucifer. Their family crest, a black bell in the centre of two black angel wings, even had a story of its own.
The Chronicle stated that when an angel falls their wings turn from gold or white, depending on how high up they were, to silver, and if they were really bad, black.
There was a dark legend connecting the bell to Lucifer: when the bell tolled, The End Days would come and Lucifer would return. Most people believed that the marriage of these two symbols meant pure evil, but Scarlett didn’t believe it: her own mother went to Blackbell and she didn’t turn out evil; well, that was what she had grown up believing.
From what she could remember, Scarlett’s mother died when she was a baby and she had been raised by her grandparents, both Nephilim. They had told her that they were all descended from angels and that one day she would go to an Academy to learn how to unlock her full potential. It was her legacy, it was her destiny.
~
The tram stopped opposite Federation Square, from where Scarlett could see the steeple of St Paul’s Cathedral. From what she was told Blackbell was attached to the cathedral—modern architecture mixed with ancient.
As she stepped off the tram she pulled out her iPhone and opened the email of the confirmation letter; she almost couldn’t resist the urge to pinch herself. She glanced at the angel clock letterhead and back at Blackbell. The building’s exterior was cube-like in shape, and the facade was made entirely of square glass panels; it reminded her of a transparent Rubik’s cube. The other walls were built with a dark grey or black stone that Scarlett couldn’t identify. Were the walls painted or was that their natural colour? The roof was yet another story. On top of the structure sat a crystalline glass dome with faceted sides, such that when the sun hit it, each side turned a different colour. There was nothing in Scarlett’s memory about the dome. How could she miss something like this? It was beautiful.
Chapter Two
Impression
Dyston stood on the rooftop; the rain cascaded down his leather jacket, making a heavy sound. He didn’t mind the rain. He shrugged off his jacket and it landed in a heap at his feet. It was his favourite thing of all to do, was to stand out in the rain and let his wings unfurl. The sensation of water running over his feathers, cool and refreshing, was like nothing else. He didn’t understand why his father and brother disliked the rain. After a few minutes he picked up his jacket, pulled his wings back in and walked back through the French doors into his bedroom. One of his best Traits was the ability of his body to dry itself almost instantly. He didn’t want to dry—he loved being wet—but today he had no choice. With a knock his door opened, and Lakyn stuck his head in, snapping Dyston out of his reverie.
“Bro, the students… why aren’t you ready?” Lakyn’s eyebrows rose at his brother’s dishevelled appearance. He disapproved. Lakyn was five years older and the sun seemed to shine out of him, in their father’s opinion anyway. This annoyed Dyston immensely.
“I am ready,” he inhaled. Dyston closed his eyes and the glisten on his skin disappeared. His black hair stuck straight up on his head, which he then tried and failed to flatten. His brother chuckled; he always thought his little brother’s talent was so bizarre.
“Very well, see you down in the dining room. Oh, and be on your best behaviour!” Lakyn told him, before his head disappeared. Dyston was alone again. He sauntered to his piano in the corner of the room, sat down and began playing.
~
As Scarlett pushed through the doors of Blackbell Academy the first thing she saw was the colour scheme: everything was black, red or grey, which didn’t help hush the rumours, she thought. Right of the foyer, there was a wide grand staircase with a black iron railing that twisted around half the room. It was made from black and grey speckled marble, with a plush red velvet runner laid down the middle. Scarlett thought it was exquisite. Forcing her gaze away from the stairs, she made her way towards the administration desk to the left of the foyer. The desk itself was high; it came up to Scarlett’s collarbone, and was made of the same marble as the stairs. Behind the desk on the back wall was the Blackbell emblem and underneath, four antique gold clocks—each showing the time of a different city around the world: London, Los Angeles, Sydney and Rome. Scarlett set her bags down on the ground; she always carried way more than necessary. She tried to make eye contact with the Nephilim woman sitting behind the desk, who still hadn’t noticed her. She cleared her throat.
“Hello, I’m Scarlett P…” she began, but the receptionist cut her off. Her dark straight hair was cut in a bob, and her face was emotionless and pale like she had never seen the sun.
“Scarlett Porter, yes we have been expecting you,” the receptionist said in a nasally monotone voice, as she began typing at her iMac.
“Am I the last to arrive?” Scarlett tried again.
“No,” she replied bluntly, offering no explanation as to how many students were due to arrive after her. Scarlett wanted to ask the receptionist how she knew her name without checking the files. But before she could say another word, a shadowy figure at the top of the stairs caught her eye. She was about to turn her head away when the shadow began descending. She noticed it was a Nephilim in his late twenties to early thirties and he had the most striking eyes she had ever seen, even more so than the boy in her dreams. These eyes were the colour of the underside of an iceberg, and as he spoke his voice chilled her to the bone.
“Welcome to Blackbell,” he said, reaching the bottom. Looking her over, he added with a smirk: “We hope you’ll feel very comfortable here.”
“Thanks,” she managed, with a dry mouth. She licked her lips and bent down to gather her bags.
“Don’t! The maids will do that. That’s their job,” he said. Then he gestured to someone Scarlett couldn’t see. A young Nephilim around the same age as stepped out of the shadows and picked up her bags, taking them through a door to the right of the admin desk.
“So where are the other students?” she asked the mysterious and dark stranger.
“They’re in the dining hall waiting,” he said.
“Waiting for what?”
“Waiting for you, Scarlett,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him. How did he also know her name? She was beginning to freak out a little.
“But… she said…” she turned to look back at the receptionist but she was gone.
“Don’t worry, Estiel doesn’t know the time of day,” he said. Scarlet thought his last remark too harsh, but couldn’t find the time to tell him. They had already arrived.
“Enjoy,” he said, leaving her.
“Thanks,” she muttered under her breath, entering the room.
~
The voices of the waiting students echoed in the expansive room, and all eyes turned to her as she made her way to the last vacant seat in the room, muttering numerous apologies along the way. She sat down next to a brunette Nephilim girl with long straight hair who was texting someone prolifically.
“Hi,” said the girl, not taking her eyes away from her smartphone.
“Hi,” replied Scarlett.
Then the Brunette looked at her. “He’s cute isn’t he?”
“Who?”
“That guy that walked you in; he’s really cute.”
“I suppose, but he’s not really my type,” Scarlett said, scanning the room to see if the blue-eyed stranger was still around. He wasn’t.
“You’re the only one I’ve talked to that thinks that, I’m Kat by the way,” she offered her hand.
“Scarlett,” she said, shaking Kat’s hand.
“Anyway he’s off limits,” added Kat.
“Why’s that? He has a mate?”
“No, he’s a Professor.” Just as the word Professor left Kat’s lips the room fell to silence and a woman in a flowing black dress walked into the room.
“Hello students, I am P
rofessor Beth Blackbell. This is my son, Professor Lakyn Blackbell,” she said, and the mysterious blue-eyed stranger entered the room. He was her son? His gaze immediately found Scarlett’s and she turned away. His mother continued:
“And my husband Professor Zachariah Blackbell, who is also your headmaster,” She lovingly touched the arm of her husband, who stood beside Professor Lakyn. The older Nephilim’s beard was greying and his eyes matched.
“As first year recruits, you will learn what it means to be Nephilim in today’s society, and over the next four years you will learn what it means to be an angel.”
Kat whispered in Scarlett’s ear: “Amazing speaker.”
“Yeah,” she whispered back.
“Classes will begin tomorrow morning at nine sharp and breakfast begins at eight,” added Beth. “You will be shown to your rooms shortly, by that time your bags should have arrived.”
Beth paced back and forward at the front of the room. She looked fierce and wild with her wavy black hair and brown eyes; Scarlett had no doubt that students were a little afraid of her.
“Lunch will commence at noon, at which time you will receive your class schedules. Any questions or queries about your class selections should be directed towards myself, or Estiel at administration. See you at lunch.”
~
The hallways inside Blackbell were a maze. Scarlett was so glad to be led through them; she would have gotten lost trying to find her room.
“You’re bags should have arrived by now,” chimed Henrietta in a musical British accent. She claimed to be a maid but she looked to be not much older than Scarlett.
She almost ran to keep up. Henrietta’s pace was quick across the hardwood floors. Almost running just to keep up, Scarlett’s boots didn’t grip very well; she was glad for her fast reflexes. Scarlett secretly wondered if Henrietta was a full-fledged angel—weren’t all professors? Or was she was a lower ranked angel? She made a mental note to ask later.
