Lucifer (Dark Angels Book 1)

by Mandy Lee

  He’d started his existence as an angel, light and pure, with majestic wings he’d used to soar through the skies. He’d had few cares and fewer problems; that was, until he’d helped lead a rebellion. He and his closest friends had been responsible for the deaths of many of their kind, which had led to their fall. As if falling wasn’t bad enough, things for B had only gotten worse from there. He’d been found by demons — naked and injured from the removal of his wings — and held captive for close to a century. All manner of abuses had been heaped upon him, leaving him battered and bruised in both mind and body.

  He’d spent as much time since trying to erase the awful memories — being the best fighter, screwing the most women, joking around all the time. But at the end of the day, B knew the truth. He wasn’t just damaged; he was broken beyond repair. He’d already forgotten tonight’s distraction’s name…if he’d even bothered to ask. All he knew for sure was that she’d had red hair. Not the flaming, madly-curling mane he dreamed of, but as close as he could get.

  B closed his eyes and saw her face, not the woman he’d just left, but the woman he wanted more than anything — Mara, the vampire with the wild hair, jade green eyes, infectious laugh, and sharp white fangs. Another wave of nausea rolled through him as he forced her image from his mind. He’d never be good enough for her, clean enough. He was too broken and she deserved so much better. B would just have to make do with cheap substitutes.

  Shoving himself upright, B yanked his phone out of his pocket. The little red light was flashing as he thumbed the keypad to check his messages. There were two new texts. One was from Gadreel, B’s closest friend, asking when he’d be making an appearance back at The Advocate. The other was from Luc…Lucifer, checking in from his honeymoon. B’s heart felt hollow as he read Luc’s message.

  It was a simple note, nothing fancy, just letting him know that he and Katia, his new wife, were both good, invitiing him to visit their new home, but it just served to remind B how empty his existence really was. He could fill it with all the women and fighting in the world, but he would never have the love and peace that Luc had found when Katia came into his life. How Luc had lucked into that relationship was beyond him. Katia was a special woman, strong enough to be Luc’s match in every way, but soft enough to have brought him back his light. Luc was a damned lucky man.

  B shook his head and rolled his shoulders as he pulled up Gadreel’s number on his phone, time to put his game face back on before he talked to his buddy. Gadreel knew the real deal, but he was notorious for answering calls on speakerphone, and B was damned if he’d have anyone else guessing at all the ugly in his past. With a deep breath, B took all the painful thoughts, threw them in a safe and spun the lock. He pasted a cocky grin on his face and thumbed the send button on his phone.

  B turned and began heading toward the mouth of the alley and the lights and sounds of the city. With his phone to his ear, B walked as he listened to the ringing of the line. Three rings in, he heard footsteps coming down the alley behind him. He stopped. The footsteps fell silent. B held his breath and turned slowly to face the source of the noise, alarm bells clanging in the back of his mind. As he completed the one-eighty, he came face to face with a huge problem. Standing a few feet away from him in the semi-darkness was Keir, Katia’s brother. Luc’s wife had been inconsolable after Satan had used her twin’s body as a vessel for a blackened soul, their last glimpse of him had left everyone shaken, evil had oozed out of him like an infectious disease. There had been no news about him in weeks, and now here he was, his jet black hair cut into a Mohawk, an assortment of piercings adorning his pale, angular face, black leather encased his lean body, and his eyes glowed like blood-red beacons in the night.

  The hand holding his phone dropped from B’s ear just as he heard Gadreel’s disembodied voice float through the connection. “Hello? Hello? B? Hellooooo?”

  A shiver ran up B’s spine as Keir’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Well, well, if it isn’t Baal. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  B schooled his features into an expression of boredom. “Really? I can’t imagine why you’d waste your time on me.” Reaching into his jacket pocket, he fished around a bit and pulled out a cigarette. “Got a light?” he asked, feigning nonchalance. Not a chance in Sheol he’d let anyone on Team Satan know he was shaking in his boots. Since the apocalypse was averted a few weeks ago, none of the fallen really knew where they stood. They were no longer servants of Satan, but aside from Luc, none of them had regained their wings…it was anybody’s guess exactly what they were now, and what they could survive. B stuck the cigarette between his lips and raised his eyebrow at Keir.

  Keir smirked. “I’m almost tempted to let you have one for the road but, unfortunately, I’m working on a tight schedule. Time is, sadly, not on your side.” He reached under his jacket and began unwinding something from around his waist. “I know the others are holed up in the bar but they can’t remain there forever.”

  B plucked the cigarette back out of his mouth and tucked it behind his ear. “So I drew lucky number one, did I?” He narrowed his eyes at the whip that now rested in Keir’s hands. The black leather was studded with nasty looking barbs that glinted in the weak light filtering into the alley.

  “Give my regards to your friend Asmodeus when you see him in Halja.” Keir cracked the whip, his movements so quick B was almost unable to track them. He hit the deck, his phone crashing to the ground and splintering apart on impact. He felt a biting pain as the barbs connected with his cheek as he dropped. B sucked in a breath at the sting. He leapt to his feet as quickly as he could and began to race down the alley toward the street, his boots pounding on the pavement as he ran. The sound of blood rushing in his ears drowned out the noises around him, making the sounds of the city muffled and distant like he was under water. It was only the chill running up his spine that gave away Keir’s pursuit. The cut on his cheek was burning like the Devil himself as B’s blood dripped down his face. Why wasn’t it healing?

  B was struck from behind, sending him sprawling onto the concrete. A steel-toed boot connected with his face and he felt his nose break. B’s mind spun. His wounds weren’t healing as they should have. He could feel the blood, warm and sticky on his face, as he tried to ward off a flurry of fists. His bones cracked and snapped beneath Keir’s assault. Shoring up his remaining strength, B tucked up his legs and kicked out at his assailant, sending Keir flying through the air. B rolled to one side and hauled himself to his feet, staggering a few steps toward the mouth of the alley. There was no way he’d be pursued onto the crowded sidewalk. One thing the dark and the light agreed on was the standing rule that knowledge about the supernatural world should be avoided among the general human population. Only a few more paces and he’d be in plain sight of everyone on the street. An iron grip clamped down on his upper arm, spinning him around to face an irate Keir. His features were twisted in rage, his glowing red eyes boring into B’s hazel ones. B’s back slammed into the brick of the building behind him, he wheezed as the air was expelled from his lungs with the force of impact.

  “Why can’t you just lay down and die?” Keir spat out at him.

  With nothing to lose, B let his smartass mouth off-leash. “I’m going to assume that’s a rhetorical question.” He mumbled through his split lips.

  Keir hissed in response, drawing a dagger out of a loop on his belt. “Enough!”

  B felt the dagger bite into the side of his neck as Keir applied pressure. “Shit,” he breathed as he squeezed his eyes shut. He’d imagined how he would go out many times over his long existence…so this was how it was going down. He felt his skin split as the dagger was drawn across his neck. Oddly, it didn’t hurt; he just felt a strange warmth as his blood flowed out onto the ground. A scream pierced the air and B felt his body falling. His eyes snapped open as his skull connected with the concrete. The dagger landed right beside him, the blade only inches from his eyes. B was able to clearly make out the words etched in
to the flat surface. In nomine diaboli. Not good. The dagger had been charmed to seriously fuck up immortals. Before his eyes the pool of blood spread out around the dagger.

  “Oh, fuck.” B groaned as his brain went offline, and he was engulfed in a beautiful darkness.

  About The Author

  Mandy Lee

  Office worker by day, writer by night! Mandy Lee has a passion for all things paranormal and sci-fi. She spends her nights typing away with a metric tonne of coffee to keep her going, and watching more Star Trek than is probably healthy.

  Dark Angels: Lucifer