by Deryn Pittar
Angelfire
Deryn Pittar & Meg Buchanan
Range Road Press
New Zealand
Published in NZ by Range Road Press, 2019
Copyright © Deryn Pittar & Meg Buchanan 2019
The authors insert the moral right to be identified as the authors of the work.
All characters in this book are fictitious,
and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead,
is purely coincidental.
Cover designed by Nate of Hidden Gems
Chapter 1
HE WATCHED the Chosen One. The time had come. He’d shown great patience and found the perfect Vessel, Emmanuel, an Angel so full of virtue and beauty, it took his breath away.
He’d marked her as his own, with a small flaw that might prevent others from desiring what was his and now he had sent her brother, Sebastian to fetch her. He’d filled the boy’s head with promises of great power and influence. Sebastian had become a Lieutenant to be proud of, craven and loyal
Years before, an emissary had appeared to Emmanuel, advising her of the great honour bestowed on her – and she’d fled.
But he’d found her and now his plans were about to bear fruit.
****
EMMA KNEW she was in danger from the moment Sebastian stood in her way, triumphant and proud.
“My sister, my angel,” said her brother. “I’ve found you.”
Fifteen years of hiding in Haven Falls had come to nothing. Emmanuelle stared, open mouthed, at the fallen angel standing before her. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat.
“Hello, Sebastian.” She looked around the mall. No way to escape here. The shoppers flowed past them as if she and Sebastian were rocks in a river; no one recognising the significance of an angel talking to her brother - once a loving son and now Levi’s right-hand man. “It’s not going to happen,” she said.
“But Ems, you are honoured.” Sebastian stepped toward her, his hand held out, pleading. “Don’t be afraid.” She could see puzzlement in his eyes as he pleaded. “You have found favour with my lord. You are to give him a son.”
“No, never.” She couldn’t believe Levi had sent her brother to Haven Falls to deliver this message to her again.
“My Lord has chosen you from among many. You are to become a mother and have his son.”
She repressed a shudder. “That will not happen because I’m not agreeing to it.”
Her brother, the beautiful fallen angel, stepped closer. “Tonight, you are to come with me to the temple to prepare for your marriage. The child you give birth to will be called the Son of the Angel of Light.”
Emmanuelle shook her head, still not believing this. Sebastian, ordering her to submit to Leviathan. Haven Falls was supposed to be a sanctuary. The council of angels had sent her here to escape this. She’d pleaded with the council to hide her and with the council’s blessing she’d escaped to Haven Falls, but her brother’s revelation meant she’d now have to fight him to escape again.
Now, in his thirst for power, her brother had betrayed her. What had happened to his family loyalty, his professed love for her? Couldn’t he understand why she’d resist this dubious honour?
“Never.” She turned and ran, weaving through the shoppers, down a side passage and into the underground car park. A quick glance behind showed he hadn’t followed. This could only mean he knew where she lived. Fear stopped her pounding feet and she leaned against a concrete pillar, calming herself with deep breaths. She needed help and advice. She searched her handbag and found her phone.
“Hello, Muffin,” her mother said. “What a lovely surprise.”
“Hi Mother, do you have a few minutes? I need a bit of advice.”
“Of course. Are you all right? Anything major wrong? I always worry about you way over there in Haven Falls and here we are in sunny California. Is something wrong with the house? I’ll get hold of the Angels’ Council.”
“Mother, please stop asking me questions and let me talk.”
“Sorry, just excited. I’ll shut up.” Which she did, and the silence grew as Emma wondered just how to approach the subject.
“I’m still here, darling,” her mother reminded her and with a deep breath she hurried on.
“Sebastian is being an absolute swine. The problem is he tells me I’m still the chosen…” Her mother gasped so she hurried on. “I don’t want to be the Chosen One.”
Her mother’s voice rose and broke. “I thought all this ridiculousness would be over once you had found someone to love. Are you telling me you are still a virgin?”
“I’m afraid so Mother.”
“Sometimes you can hold onto something for too long,” said her mother crossly.
Well, that was helpful thought Emma, and lowered the phone. She’d struggled at times to maintain her virginity against some ardent requests. Some of the angels had been very attractive and handsome, some had been really nice, but still she’d resisted. No matter how much her body had yearned somehow there’d been a spark missing and she was never sure she could trust them with her secret. She put the phone back to her ear.
Her mother had taken a breath. “I’m not happy with the bad crowd your brother is mixed up with,” she said. “They’re using him to get to you. I’ve asked your father to intervene, but he shrugs and says Sebastian will grow out of wanting wings—but this is the limit. We never thought it’d come to this. We’ll get hold of him, if we can find him. Dad will contact the Council of Angels. Get him sanctioned, grounded, punished, everything they can do. I simply will not have my daughter subjected to this sort of harassment.” Her mother blew her nose and sniffed. “Darling, you have to do everything you can to keep yourself safe.”
In the background Emma heard a door slam.
“Oh, here’s your father,” said her mother. “He’s just come in with a thundercloud over his head, metaphorically speaking and it’s going to get darker when I tell him about this.” There were murmured voices in the background. “Bye darling, keep safe. I’ll send your father out immediately. In the meantime, until we have dealt with this, we will send someone to protect you.” And with that she hung up.
Emma stared at her phone. Did her mother realise how serious this was? How little she wanted to be the Chosen One? And who would they send to protect her? Sometimes her mother could be so vague it was infuriating.
Well, if she couldn’t rely on her parents for help, and she couldn’t outrun Sebastian, she’d need to outthink him.
****
Through the bus window, Lewis Carpenter watched the streets parade by. His soul shrivelled. He’d grown up here. The tidy houses, the manicured lawns and the curtained windows had the same effect on him now as they always had, stifling boredom.
“Never changes, does it?” said Daniel Hawkins. The bus had slowly emptied out from the airport in Houston to here in Haven Falls. Only Lewis and his captain were left.
“What’s that?” Lewis asked.
“The old hometown,” said Daniel.
Lewis studied his old friend; big and black, with muscles on muscles. Brave, strong and a friend to rely on. They’d joined up at the same time and had been together since. Daniel was now a captain and Lewis his major. Now they were in the special forces, their missions were a carefully guarded secret. Their squad had four weeks’ leave. They needed it. The last mission had been dangerous and had taken its toll on all the squad.
“It’s got one thing going for it. No one’s trying to kill us,” commented Lewis.
“There is that. But even that can get lame after a couple of weeks,” Daniel said.
Lewis laughed. A typical Daniel comment, but always looking for the next scrap had made him a great soldier. Th
ere was no one he’d rather have by his side in dangerous times.
Lewis went back to watching the houses parade past. “It’s going to take more than a couple of weeks for me to get sick of it.”
At the next corner Daniel stood up. “My stop.” He pulled his pack off the luggage rack. “See you in a month.”
“See you.” Lewis watched Daniel make his way to the front. The bus pulled to a stop, the door folded open and the big man swung down to the pavement. He waved at Lewis then wandered his way back to his house. Two more blocks to go and he’d be home too. An enforced rest. Post-traumatic stress disorder the doctor said. He wasn’t planning on sharing that diagnosis with his parents; there’d be enough fussing without that.
He pulled his pack down from the rack and made his way to the front.
The driver started easing the brakes on. “Next stop Major Carpenter?” Lewis nodded. “Is it good to be home, Sir?”
He nodded again, then watched the street where he’d lived most of his life, come into view, a row of pumpkins lined up on the neighbour’s front porch announcing Halloween.
Tonight, was mischief night, when kids left bags of dog shit on the front doorstep of anyone who had annoyed them during the year. They lit the bag then ran.
He’d only tried it once when he was a kid. He’d felt sorry for Mrs Cooper when she’d stamped out the fire then had to deal with the mess. Even though she had short-changed him after he’d mowed her lawns.
He’d preferred tomorrow night, Halloween, dressing up and going trick or treating with his friends.
“Been too long.” But as he swung down off the bus at the corner, he decided it probably hadn’t been nearly long enough. Haven Falls had been a good place to grow up, but he could remember with clarity, even as he got older, his desire to escape, spread his wings and see the world. He’d done that by joining the marines. This would be his longest visit since he left home to join the army.
Carrying his backpack, he walked down the street to the house where his parents lived. The desert camouflage BDU’s he wore made him stand out among the jeans and jackets everyone else was wearing. The purposeful afternoon bustle of the tree-lined street, the tradesmen’s vans, the family cars, the kids coming home from school, homeowners raking leaves off their lawn, all seemed so foreign to him.
Old man Cooper leaned against his rake and waved.
“Welcome home, son,” he called.
Lewis waved back. “Good to see you, Mr Cooper.” He stepped off the kerb to cut across the road and talk to the old man, who’d lived in the house forever. And walked straight into a car door. It belonged to the big SUV parked there and had flung open violently.
He hadn’t noticed the vehicle. The door knocked him flat, and he hit the ground, the wind knocked out of him. Not a good look. Just home, and flat on his back already. He rolled over to push himself up.
“Damn.” The voice sounded ladylike and familiar. His gaze travelled from the ballet flats, up the legs, long and shapely, to the little denim skirt which hugged the slim hips nicely. Her white T-shirt curved around the breasts perfectly, long blonde curls cascaded past her shoulders. He recognised the face.
No wonder the voice sounded familiar. Emma Manuelle. His parents’ next-door neighbour, looking not a day older than she looked when he left fifteen years ago. As beautiful as she’d been then, when she fuelled his every adolescent fantasy. Maybe she even looked younger than he did now. How could that be? He stood up slowly, trying to catch his breath.
Toffee-coloured eyes stared at him, the impact of those eyes as they met his knocked the breath out of him again. What the hell was that? He’d been away from here long enough to get over adolescent crushes.
“I’m so sorry,” breathed those perfectly shaped lips. “I was in a hurry, I wasn’t looking,” She brushed a leaf off his jacket sleeve. He wished she’d left her hand there.
He found his voice from somewhere. “Me neither.” He stuck his hand out. “Lewis Carpenter.”
“Lewis?” she looked at him, her forehead crinkled, eyebrows nearly meeting. Even this looked cute. “Of course, I didn’t recognise you. You were just a kid when you left. “Oh god. Alice said you were due home, and the first thing I do is nearly knock you out.” She ignored his outstretched hand and ran both hers through her hair. It tumbled around her shoulders like honey-colored silk. “This is terrible. I feel so stupid.”
“No harm done.”
She smiled. “We must catch up sometime. Perhaps I can make up for knocking you over?”
He picked up his pack and grinned at her. “Looking forward to you doing that.” Being at home for the next few weeks might be more interesting than he expected. She was gorgeous, everything he remembered, only better.
Emmanuelle hefted the bag of garlic out of the SUV and lifted the assault rifle and box of bullets from the trunk. Tonight, she would lock the doors, block the chimney with fire and sit in the middle of a holy circle, armed, ready for Sebastian and whoever came with him to take her to the Levi. She would resist even if the wall of her lounge ended up riddled with bullet holes.
Dusk darkened the back yard. Through the lounge windows the bare branches of the aspen tree reached to the sky, pleading. The tree’s few remaining leaves clung tight to their twigs in a competition to be last on the limb. As her gaze swept the lawn another leaf fluttered to the ground. She peered upward and wondered if her brother were hiding among the top branches, out of sight over the roof of her house. Had he dislodged the leaf?
Hurrying now she thrust paper and twigs into the fireplace, piled on small logs and pinecones, then buried some fire-starters in the mix. She put the matches close by. The wood basket was full, stacked with large dry logs to see her through the night.
After she’d pulled the curtains, she gathered several rugs and heaped large cushions in the middle of the polished wooden floor. She would spend the night here.
She fetched a wine glass and a bottle of red from the kitchen cupboard, as well as food, and put it on a wide wooden stool beside the cushions. The rifle and cartridges were within.
She arranged the tea-candles in a large circle, encompassing the fireplace and then lit them. Not sure what to do with the garlic corms she scattered them around the circle between the candles and put some in the pockets of her skirt. Already the room smelt of garlic. One last comfort stop, and she was ready to light the fire and defend her honour to the end of her life.
The doorbell rang. Startled and frightened, she picked up the gun and crept toward the front door. Her heart pounded. Would her brother dare to ring the doorbell? Yes, such was his arrogance.
Should she jump into the circle, light the fire and blast holes in her front door – or look through the spyhole first? Who could be visiting if it wasn’t Sebastian? Perhaps the neighbour’s children were trick or treating already? Better to check, than shoot first.
Her legs refused to move closer toward the door and a voice called, “Emma, open the door. It’s me, Lewis.”
Lewis? Here? Why?
“What a surprise,” she said. Hearing the quaver in her voice she coughed. “Are you alone?” Could her brother have Lewis in a stranglehold and be forcing him to knock?
“Of course, I’m alone.”
She took a few steps closer to the door, listened for any other voices. Her harp, her loyal watchdog, remained silent. She felt its neck. No vibrations. It must be safe to open the door.
“There’s a nasty breeze out here, which may be good for the white wine I’m holding but it’s chilling other parts of me I want to protect.” Ridiculous joke. He had to be alone. “Help me celebrate my return to normal life.”
She checked the spyhole and saw his head, plus a pumpkin pie held up for inspection. Relief softened her knees. It wouldn’t hurt to apologise again to him. Lucky, she hadn’t caused a severe injury with her car door.
She could do this. After all he was an old acquaintance and it would be churlish not to welcome home a man who had defended he
r country. When she unlocked the door, her harp hummed its approval.
As he walked through, she saw his gaze take in the gun in her hand and the arrangement on the floor behind her.
Chapter 2
“WHOA,” HE SAID, “Serious shit.” He nodded to the gun and spread his arms wide, his hands full with the pie and wine. He sniffed. “Garlic party? Inside picnic?”
“Sort of.” She could feel tears welling and threatening to spill down her cheeks.
“Any special reason?”
She’d hoped this day would never come; explaining her angel status to her neighbour’s son. Perhaps she could still avoid it? She couldn’t undo tonight’s preparations and he may not stay for long, although the wine bottle in his hand seemed to say he’d want to share in the emptying process.
Without turning he pushed the door shut with his foot and she heard the lock click into position.
He gestured to the rugs and the bottle of wine. “Are you expecting company or picnicking alone? I don’t want to gate-crash a private party.”
“A bit of both really.” She walked into the circle and beckoned. “It’s a bit like a parlour game. I’m expecting my brother to call sometime during the night and I’m not happy about his plans for tomorrow.”
“You mean Halloween?”
“Yes. He’s determined to take me out and I’m just as determined to stay in – hence the garlic and candles.”
Lewis put the pie and wine on the stool and sat cross-legged on the floor. He looked around. “It’s not my business but I don’t think a few candles and some garlic corms are going to be of much help, unless your brother is a warlock or something.”
Her heart tightened. Had he guessed? “I have a back-up plan.” She raised the rifle then placed it on the floor and covered it with a corner of the blanket.
