by S. M. Reine
Contents
Torn by Fury
Copyright
About
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Dear Readers
Torn by Fury
An Urban Fantasy Novel
The Ascension Series - Book Six
SM Reine
Copyright © 2014 Red Iris Books
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
This book is sold DRM-free so that it can be enjoyed in any way the reader sees fit. Please keep all links and attributions intact when sharing. All rights reserved.
Copyright © SM Reine 2014
Published by Red Iris Books
1180 Selmi Drive, Suite 102
Reno, NV 89512
THE ASCENSION SERIES
Reading Order:
Sacrificed in Shadow
Oaths of Blood
Ruled by Steel
Caged in Bone
Lost in Prophecy
Torn by Fury
Sins of Eden (coming 2014)
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About Torn by Fury
Elise Kavanagh is marching on New Eden, the city angels have built from the bones of human victims. She's hellbent on making them atone for their sins--no matter the cost.
Rylie Gresham has realized that werewolves are the key to defeating angels. They're apex predators, designed to bring powerful, immortal beings to heel. She has no choice but to follow Elise into war against Heaven…especially since it's the only way to protect her family from complete annihilation.
The angels are prepared to defend themselves. Their magic will tear the universe apart. And if they have their way, there will soon be no Earth left to save…
One
THE ANGELS ARRIVED in a pair, one white-winged and the other gold, erupting from the first beam of morning sunlight. The reflection off of their feathers left dancing green shapes in Richard Travers’s vision. He shielded his eyes against them with a hand, but it did little to help. They were so bright that the glow warmed his skin.
He glanced over his shoulder. What looked like a family was enjoying hamburgers at a picnic table outside Portola Frosty: A woman with sleek black hair and a baggy sweater, two teenage boys on her left, an older man sitting on the other side of the table. Another couple was ordering food, while three others stood in line.
It was a busy weekend morning in Portola, California. Much busier than the small town had ever seen, even before the Breaking. Yet none of them seemed to notice the approach of the angels.
“Lord help me,” Richard muttered, crossing himself discreetly.
He felt the woman at the table watching him as he crossed the street. The angels alighted on the roof of an abandoned restaurant with a swirl of downy feathers. Their wingspans were impressive. Each wing was easily as long as the bearer was tall, with some feathers as long as Richard’s forearm.
Aside from the wings, the pair of men on the roof could have passed for relatively normal. Not normal for Portola, but normal for somewhere in the world, surely. The white-winged one wore some kind of sarong with sandals. The other looked more local. His cargo shorts and muscle-baring tank top seemed mismatched with the saber on his belt.
“Welcome,” Richard said. He couldn’t make himself speak any louder than a whisper. There just wasn’t any saliva in his mouth.
The angel in the sarong, Raqib, dropped off of the roof to land silently in front of Richard. He folded his wings against his spine. “Have you brought anyone around to the cause? Will they come peacefully?”
You have no idea. “I’ve explained what’s going on to a few people.” Richard kept his eyes fixed to the angel’s shoulder. It was easier to lie when he didn’t have to actually look into his eyes. “There shouldn’t be any struggle, especially if you present yourselves properly.”
“You’ve done well, Richard Travers,” Raqib said.
He moved to walk across the street, but Haniel stopped him. “Wait,” said the other angel. “Something is wrong.”
Sweat broke out on Richard’s forehead. “What do you mean?”
“They’re expecting us, you said?” Haniel’s eyes were narrowed in suspicion.
“Right,” Richard said. “Yeah, that’s right. These people are.” He gestured at the groups milling around in front of Portola Frosty. They still looked casual, considering their new company—entirely too casual, in fact. Richard cursed them inwardly. “We’ll have to collect everyone else. Some of them are still at home.”
Raqib bumped into Richard’s shoulder as he brushed past. Richard watched the angel approach Portola Frosty, pulse powerfully strong in the back of his throat. No way Raqib hadn’t felt that. He had to know something was wrong.
A hand gripped his arm. He turned to see Haniel looming over him.
“You are the vassal we expected, aren’t you?” Haniel pushed Richard’s sleeve up, then jerked aside his collar, lifted the hem of his shirt.
Richard swatted his hands away. “Yes, yes, of course.” He lowered the hip of his jeans to reveal a tattoo of a bleeding apple. He’d had it retouched recently, when Levi had begun spreading the word about the paradise to come; he’d wanted to present himself well to the angels. The green in the leaves was so bright that it might as well have been emeralds. “See? I’m with the Apple.”
“Angels can tell lies, you know,” Haniel said.
Richard hadn’t really lied yet. He’d been omitting information, sure, but even though his mother had always said that lies of omission were just as bad, it still wasn’t quite a lie, per se.
If it had been, then the angels would have already known that they’d landed in a deathtrap.
He felt sick as the family at the picnic table stood up to speak to Raqib. The teenage boys were smiling, elbowing each other, laughing. The older man, who had identified himself as Azis, was speaking with the angel. Their voices were muffled by the rustling of pine trees around them.
But the black-haired woman—she wasn’t watching the angel, or the boys. She was watching Richard.
He angled himself so that she wouldn’t be able to see his lips.
“The people here were already prepared to meet you,” Richard said as calmly as possible, trying to put all of the urgency into his eyes. “I didn’t have to prepare them.”
Haniel’s eyebrows furrowed. His fist clenched on the hilt of his sword. “What do you mean?”
It was still too early in the morning for the air to be hot, but Richard was drenched in sweat. He plucked at the neck of his sweater. Glanced up at the trees. The shadows in the forest surrounding Portola were dark. Still too dark. Still too shadowy. Dawn moved slowly.
Richard had to risk warning Haniel anyway. It was his duty.
“They haven’t been in Portola for long,” he said. Suspicion crossed Haniel’s features, and Richard quickly added, “Look normal. Don’t let her see that I’m telling you anything I shouldn’t be.”
Haniel’s face smoothed. “I see.”
“I wanted to go to paradise.” Richard tried to keep his posture loose, casual. He didn’t dare show any hint of tension. “I didn’t choose to disobey you. I didn’t ha
ve a choice. They threatened me, threatened my family—”
“Worry not, friend,” Haniel said. “You’ve done the right thing by warning me.” He was even smiling a little bit now, looking for all the world like they were sharing jokes. Richard felt like he was about to piss himself. His knees were shaking. “How many? All of them?”
“Yes. All of them. They evacuated the others.”
“And we didn’t even notice. How cunning.”
For a moment, the two of them watched Raqib in silence. He was speaking to the clustered group now. Probably trying to prepare them to leave for paradise, oblivious to the fact that he would be transporting a small army to New Eden, rather than worshipful members of the Apple.
“Who is she?” Haniel asked.
Richard tried to say her name. Her title, at least. But the words caught in his throat.
The sun had touched the pavement, leaving a sliver of gold on the damaged asphalt. It was almost daytime. He had seen what she could do in the darkness, but she would be powerless once sunlight struck, for certain. He might be safe from her now.
He swallowed hard, shut his eyes, steeled himself.
“It’s okay,” Haniel said. “I’ll protect you.” The angel sounded so reassuring. That was a voice that Richard could trust.
Richard’s eyes opened, and he drank in the sight of one of the angels he had worshiped for most of his life. He wished that they could have finally met under better circumstances.
He said, “Her name is—”
Richard cut off. Blood surged in his throat. Spilled over his tongue, splattered onto his chest.
He looked down. A black blade jutted from his heart. Dark veins spread across his skin, gripping his collarbone, his wrists.
Richard felt the instant his heart turned to stone and stopped beating.
When he fell, the last thing he saw was her. The black-haired woman who had been sitting at the table. The demon that had appeared to Richard the night before and told him that he wasn’t going to ascend to paradise that day.
She had killed him.
“I’m the Father,” she said, kicking Richard off of her blade, “and one way or another, you’re taking me to New Eden, Haniel.”
The plan was so simple that it had been hard to imagine how it could go wrong. Elise had trusted that it would go wrong, of course, because these things inevitably did. She just hadn’t been sure which part would be the failing point.
Lincoln Marshall had given Elise a short list of towns whose residents were scheduled to be abducted to New Eden. The first of them—Two Rivers, Georgia—had already been emptied out by angels weeks earlier. They had missed out on saving the residents of Nissa Falls, Maine by mere days.
Portola, however, had still been intact. And that should have made it easy to evacuate the residents, catch the angels in the act of abduction, and use them to transport Elise into the depths of New Eden.
After that, she and her guards could locate a door from New Eden to Hell or Earth, open it wide, and march the rest of her demon legions inside to kill the fuckers.
Easy.
Well, maybe not easy, but as easy as any of Elise’s plans could be.
The first part had gone well. After the Breaking, everyone was terrified of having their town razed by demons. All she needed to do was put on a little show of infernal power and Portola had practically evacuated itself. Everyone who wasn’t in the Apple had been gone within an hour. Probably some kind of record.
Then she had picked off the cult itself—a quick fight, since they weren’t equipped to face a demon like her. Elise’s personal guards hadn’t had to get involved. She’d consumed a half a dozen men and left one behind to help her: Richard Travers.
He’d seemed terrified enough to be obedient, too. Just like the evacuees.
Now she had her blade hilt-deep in his back, so he obviously hadn’t been all that obedient.
“Godslayer,” Haniel spat, eyes widening at the sight of her.
Elise quickly sized up the situation. Raqib was bleeding on the ground in front of Portola Frosty, poisoned with ichor, and dying. Even a wounded angel was deadlier than the average demon so Azis, Endi, and Albrinck had him at gunpoint. They could probably prevent him from interfering with Elise.
The rest of her guards were crossing the street to provide support against Haniel. They were armed with automatic weapons and enough bullets to rip the wings off of an angel’s back, but that wasn’t a desirable outcome. She still needed him to transport them to New Eden.
Elise gestured to tell them to stand by.
“Congratulations, Godslayer,” Haniel said. “You’ve prevented fifty humans from reaching paradise. Are you pleased with yourself? One more cruelty to add to everything else you’ve done?”
Her lip curled. “Paradise? Is that what you call it?”
She had seen “paradise.” The mortals living—if that’s what it could be called—in New Eden were in stasis, plugged into the city, feeding angels with their energy and unable to escape from eternal dreams. They were somewhat happy. They were also prisoners. Food. They would die without knowing another moment of consciousness if Elise didn’t save them.
And those were the lucky ones.
Thousands more had died to build that so-called paradise. It was definitely paradise for angels. For humans, it was a nightmare.
“You have broken the Earth and made it a pit of misery.” Haniel circled Elise. She sidestepped to keep him in front of her, sword dripping Richard’s blood onto the parking lot. “A lifetime dreaming is a mercy. New Eden is an ark.”
“You’ve taken people I care about. I want them back.”
“Why? So you can damn them to live here?” Haniel jerked his saber out of his belt. “Or in Hell, with you, where they will be no more than meat?”
Fighting for freedom was better than being suspended in illusion. Elise knew that personally. But she wasn’t going to argue. She didn’t want to change the angel’s mind. She didn’t care if he knew how fucked up his entire species had become.
“Take me to New Eden,” Elise said.
He jumped at her, swinging the sword.
Their blades clashed. She shoved forward and their hilts locked. His biceps strained, the muscles in his neck bulged.
“You’ll never see the city again!” Haniel’s saber ignited. Flames bathed Elise in heat, singeing the hair on her arms, making her cheeks ache.
She twisted away from him, leaping back. “Open fire!”
Elise’s guards began shooting, filling the air with the chattering of automatic gunfire. She didn’t phase away in time. Several of the bullets punched through her spine. Three exited from her stomach to smack into Haniel’s thigh with puffs of pink mist. Two more bullets rattled around inside her ribcage and finally settled in her stomach.
She reformed behind the crescent of her guards.
“Fuck,” Elise growled. “Azis!”
He was standing with a foot planted in the back of Raqib. Judging by the mess of angel-brains on the pavement, Azis had gotten tired of watching Raqib die slowly.
“You’ll be fine,” Azis said dismissively.
Haniel’s body jerked under the impact of bullets. Bloody feathers splattered against the wall of the Canyon Grill.
He roared as he rushed the guards, swinging the saber in a wide arc.
Elise phased over to her men and pushed two of them to the ground. She was too late to save the third. The flaming blade cut into Ryan’s side, severing his spine. She watched his brain signals cut out.
Haniel redirected, aiming for Elise with the second blow. She caught his wrist and slammed the flat of her own blade into his shin hard enough to shatter it.
The angel doubled over with a cry.
Elise snapped her knee into his lowered face. His grip on the saber loosened.
She reached out to disarm him, but the flames on the sword were too bright. Her skin flickered. She jerked back with a hiss.
One of her guards was bra
ve enough to wrench the hilt out of Haniel’s grasp, but she immediately dropped it with a cry of shock. The saber hit the ground and went dark.
Elise pinned Haniel to the ground underneath her. The muzzles of a dozen guns were aimed on his head at once.
“Hold your fire,” she barked, pressing the falchion into his throat. Her knees dug into his shoulders.
It was amazing how little pain his face showed, even with his bloody wings crumpled underneath him.
“You’d heal within the light of Heaven,” Elise said, angling the cutting edge of the sword right under his jaw. All it would take was a little pressure and she could decapitate him. Her blade was very sharp. “Take me to New Eden, or I’ll let you die like this. Slowly. In misery.”
“I would rather die,” Haniel said. “Any of us would.”
“Are you sure of that?” Elise grabbed his chin. “Look into my eyes.”
Haniel tried to twist out of her grasp. “No.” But he couldn’t seem to resist her command. He met her gaze and his face went slack. “No,” he said again, weaker this time. “It can’t be you. You’re gone. You’ve been gone for years.”
“Who am I, Haniel?” Elise’s voice didn’t quite sound like her own.
“No…”
“Tell me.”
He finally whispered, “Mother.” A single tear slid down his cheek.
“I want you to take me to New Eden. I want to see what my children have made. Take me there.”
She could tell that he considered obedience for the first time—transporting her across dimensions to New Eden, showing the most glorious creation of angels to the first angel herself. But his mind was overloading at the confusing mix of sensory input she was feeding him. His eyes saw Elise. The Godslayer. The woman who had killed Adam. But his heart wanted to see his mother—Eve.
It wasn’t enough. The illusion slipped away. Anger took its place.
“Never,” he hissed.
Elise leaned on her blade and sliced through his neck.
