The Damned and The Pure Series: Books 1-4 (The Damned and The Pure Series Box Set)

by J. D. Stonebridge

  Ariel did not want to take her chances with a servant of Hell possibly going near a prophet of Heaven. It was part of her task to protect Maxwell Saunders, after all. However, her scrutiny provided her no trace of demonic energy. She wondered if it had been merely her imagination. Being locked away for so long might have had detrimental effects on her instincts.

  Maxwell Saunders spent his day attending to business. Meeting with his lawyer then with his accountant, a phone call from his sister updating him about their father's health, and in the afternoon, he returned to his lofty apartment to record this week's podcast episode.

  The angel listened to him ramble on about the crisis of the US employment system. How many of the procedures a person must survive to live in the United States were as unnecessary as they were expensive. Most of his ramblings and references did not make much sense to Ariel, though she tried to listen well and understand the thoughts of her human. By nightfall, she felt as though she failed to do so.

  With increasing impatience, Ariel watched Maxwell Saunders prepare for bed. Ariel readied herself to forge the man’s faith when her consciousness was tugged from Heaven. She looked up into the night sky, finally receiving word from the archangels. With palms held together, she closed her eyes and accepted the word. A serene warmth overpowered her senses and she felt her consciousness expand further and further until the images flowed inside her like water quenching her thirst.

  Ariel opened her eyes. She knew the prophecy and felt delight about the knowledge that their Father would return soon. The humans must come to know of this event so they could prepare themselves for God. Though doubt filled her as she looked at the supposed prophet who would deliver this message to the masses. A non-believer would brush off the images she would send as fantasies of his own mind instead of a message from Heaven. It was a challenge. Ariel held her palms once more and sought for at least one more night to forge Maxwell Saunders’ faith before delivering the prophecy. She was granted that one night.

  Maxwell Saunders entered a peculiar dream once again. This time, he dreamt of prom. Michelle Reynolds smiled at him with teeth so white and her green eyes sparkling along with the lights of their school gym. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever dated, though they’d drifted apart after graduation. But this night was a memorable one.

  Michelle wore a royal purple dress that revealed her shoulders. Her brown hair was tied into a high ponytail that bounced around as she danced with him. She laughed and he laughed. The youth celebrated themselves, drowning in music and hormones.

  The dream shifted into the hallway where Michelle Reynolds held his hand as they ran. Every detail of his school was as he remembered: the lockers, the badly made posters. Maxwell felt as though he was a teenager again.

  Michelle led him through a set of double doors. She threw them open and light spilled out from the room beyond. She beckoned him forward, calling his nickname with her angelic voice. Maxwell did not have enough willpower to turn her down. He stepped into the light, and as he did, the dream shifted.

  Green grass spread across the meadow, with drops of yellow, pink, and lavender scattered all around. The sky was clear and bright, the birds chirping as they flew by. A bark caught his ears and Maxwell turned to welcome his mastiff, Wallace. The canine jumped excitedly to be reunited with his master, and Maxwell was filled with both happiness and nostalgia. Wallace had been his pet since he was eight until he was twelve when the poor dog was hit by a truck. Now, the dog licked his face with its tail wagging joyfully at their reunion.

  “I miss you, old buddy,” Maxwell muttered as he ruffled the dog’s head.

  Wallace’s head suddenly snapped up, darting from side to side. Maxwell knew the dog heard something he did not. The dog gave a soft bark before dashing off to the left.

  “Wallace!” Maxwell chased after his dog, but he couldn’t catch the dog. Wallace slowly grew smaller as he ran across the meadow. The grassy land stretched farther and farther, and Maxwell was running out of breath. Suddenly, his foot landed on nothing and he was falling. A dark abyss swallowed him. A scream left his lungs and tore through his throat and lips.

  He landed on all fours. A white light illuminated the area around him, but beyond his arm’s reach, everything was in darkness. Maxwell looked around, hoping to see a trace of his dog, of Michelle Reynolds, or anyone. A set of footsteps echoed behind him, and from the shadows emerged a young man he did not recognize.

  Ariel frowned at the appearance of the strange young man. She’d meant to portray the human’s view of Heaven for the man’s dream, but whatever had distracted the dog wasn’t part of her plans. And neither was this man who appeared before Maxwell in the dim cave. Ariel gathered herself; perhaps her lack of practice made her skill weak and uncontrollable. She focused on Maxwell’s dream and recreated the scene.

  A soft warm light came from behind Maxwell. He turned around, and once again his surroundings shifted. He was in a white room with a marble floor and ivory pillars. Four white chairs were set in front of him, and he moved over to them to take a seat. Something materialized in the chair he was approaching; he saw the calming face of his grandmother, Athena Millow-Saunders.

  She looked similar to Maxwell’s memory when she was healthier, before the aneurism had taken her from the family. Her smile was warm and caring, her lips painted with her favorite rose pink lipstick. To her right, something else materialized; his childhood best friend, Matthew King, who had been diagnosed with leukemia at the age of thirteen. As Maxwell sat in the chair, his deceased loved ones gathered around him in the pristine room. A whiplash of longing and nostalgia overcame the man. Before he could enjoy this lovely moment, everything went dark again.

  “Grandma?” Maxwell called out in confusion. “Matthew? Michelle?” He looked around, but he was in the dark place again where the only light was the one shining above him. Everywhere he looked, it was black and cold. Then, a new voice came.

  “Dad?” a young male voice called from behind him. Maxwell wheeled around and found himself face to face with the same young man from earlier. This time, the man stepped into the light and he could finally see his face. A lump caught in Maxwell’s throat. The young man had the same brown hair and hazel eyes as he did. Though the face was quite different, there was still something familiar about him.

  The young man smiled, laughing. “I’d love to introduce myself, really. But sadly, I don’t have a name.”

  Maxwell cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  The young man laughed again. “I don’t have a name. Simple as that.”

  “Why?” Maxwell asked.

  The young man took a step closer. Instinctively, Maxwell took a step back. Though the man was smaller than him, Maxwell felt something ominous about the lad. “Don’t you recognize me? At least, don’t you remember this smile?” The man grinned wider, and the memories started crashing down on him.

  “A- Andrea?” Maxwell said the name. “You’re—?”

  “Ah, bingo!” the young man cheered. “You got it. I am Andrea Towler’s son. Well,” the man looked down on his shoes, “I’m supposed to be.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Ah, sucks that you don’t remember.” The man scratched his head. “Okay, let me remind you. Andrea Towler was your girlfriend in college who you knocked up, then you broke up with after you learned she was pregnant. You accused her of cheating on you and left. Did you ever check what happened to her after?”

  Maxwell didn’t respond, nor did he want to. He wanted to wake up. He knew this was a dream, and he wanted to stop it. But the young man continued anyway.

  “Andrea Towler had an abortion after you left her. She killed me because of what you did!” Flames suddenly erupted from behind the man. He had fury in his eyes. Maxwell turned and ran into the darkness. But no matter how far he got, the flames chased after him as well as the man’s voice.

  “And you know what? My supposed-to-be-mother got into another crappy re
lationship. This time, the man actually married her when she got pregnant. And he did other things to her.”

  Maxwell covered his ears, but it was as though the voice was coming from inside his head. The man’s voice echoed around inside his skull. “One of that man’s hobbies was beating her up and forcing himself on her. Screaming at her that he was her husband and therefore he was entitled to do all those nasty things to his wife!”

  “Stop it!” Maxwell yelled. Guilt was getting to him. He knew what he’d done to Andrea Towler was wrong, but he had to do it. At least, that was what he told himself all those years ago. He wasn’t so convinced now.

  “You know, I don’t blame my mother for what she did to me. She was wronged and depressed. She was desperate and wasn’t thinking right. But you! You pushed her into doing this to me! I could have been someone, you know!”

  “Stop it!!” Maxwell begged, tears catching in his throat. He kept on running and running, but the flames were reaching him. His dream has turned into Hell.

  What is happening?! Ariel, previously weaving the dream of Maxwell Saunders, was panicking. She had completely lost control of the images that flowed through the mind of the new prophet. She left her body and dove back into Maxwell’s consciousness only to find herself inside the flames of Hell itself. Ariel looked around in search of the prophet trapped inside, but all her eyes could see were fire and smoke.

  She moved forward, the flames licking her skin though never inflicting her with pain. This is an illusion, after all. Ariel sped up, desperate to rescue the lost human in the sea of fire. The angel danced around the flames until the shadow caught her eyes. She peered closer and found something else lurking inside the dreams of Maxwell Saunders.

  In the dark alleyway was the demon, Caelum, whose hands moved gracefully as if conducting an orchestra. Though, there was a lot of difference to it and what he was creating. The act of seeing the history of a man and digging through his deep dark secrets was a task already. To create a world where all those dark secrets came to life was an enjoyable challenge to the demon.

  He smiled his usual smile as he coordinated the flames that haunted Maxwell Saunders’ slumber. The images of visitations from the deceased loved ones who welcomed the poor longing man with open arms were too boring for Caelum to leave be. Some spice was required, some drama! A good story had something dark to contrast the good, he believed.

  “And a bit of fireworks,” Caelum muttered under his breath. He saw the flames in Maxwell’s dreams grow higher and higher. He heard the man scream in agony and felt the thrill brimming in his chest. He let the flames reach up higher, and then a flash of white light beamed from one corner of his eye.

  A force suddenly pushed him back and Caelum opened his eyes.

  Chapter Four: Written by Fate

  The foul odor of the alleyway was first to hit his senses. Then came the wall behind him as he staggered back against it. Caelum struggled to balance himself after being shoved back so forcefully. His eyes opened and his vision was blurry. He felt as though something was lodged in his throat, and he was finding it hard to swallow. Something had forced him out of Maxwell Saunders’ dream. But, what?

  The only answer included a stroke of panic with it. Caelum looked up into the night sky and confirmed his theory. He had been detected by the angel with the long black hair who had just leapt from the top floor of the building with a silver sword in hand.

  Caelum jumped out of the way just as the angel drove the sword into the ground, collapsing to her knees as she missed her target. The blade dug itself several inches into the concrete ground and, just as easily, slipped out as its wielder stood up. The woman he’d seen the night before, the angel who guarded the human he was playing with, now stood before him. Eyes fiery with anger, jaw set tight. Her hair fell in black curtains around her face and the thin fabric that was her dress accentuated her form. In that beauty was danger.

  With a flick of her hand, her hold on the blade shifted and she charged at him. The angel roared as she ran towards him, blade swinging fast. Caelum dodged just as quickly, but his balance was off at every attack the angel made. He crouched forward, catching the angel on his shoulder as she jumped at him. He drove his shoulder against the angel’s stomach and pushed her back.

  The angel was thrown several feet to the other end of the alley, but a shimmer of light caught his vision. The angel shifted her position in midair. Her foot landed on the ground and bounced off. With high speed, she came shooting back like a bullet from a gun. Caelum spread his legs apart and waited. When the angel was near, he jumped forward. He leapt high enough to go over the angel’s head and spun his body. He pushed his palm against her back, throwing her to the ground.

  She grunted as Caelum walked to her. But before he could get near her, the angel swung her leg to kick his shin. Caelum staggered back, landing on his backside, snapping his teeth together painfully. Flapping wings caught his ears and he looked up to see the angel flying up high.

  “This is getting exciting!” Caelum grinned as his eyes followed the divine being reaching up to the heavens. He leapt up, his foot landing flat on the wall. He pushed himself with his foot once more, jumping higher. In the speed of his steps, gravity was no competition.

  The angel turned her body to face him and charged back downward. Caelum jumped to meet her, and their bodies crashed against each other. They gasped, spinning, the angel locked in his arms. She struggled, pushing him away and prying her wrist that held the sword from his hands. Then, her wings were released as they neared the ground below. He felt his grip loosen on her as they landed on the ground hard. He cringed in pain, feeling the angel immediately climbing back to her feet.

  A slicing sound in the air made Caelum open his eyes, and before he could react, the silver blade was inches from his bare throat. The angel had her eyes cast down at him, obviously ready to drive the blade through if necessary. But she didn’t. There was something besides the anger in her eyes. Confusion? Wondering? Caelum could hardly tell, which was odd considering his mastery of reading. Perhaps, though they look very similar to humans and demons, their emotions are still different.

  After a long silence, Caelum snickered. “With all due respect, I’d much prefer if the roles were switched. I haven’t acquired a taste for being dominated by a woman. No offense.” He shrugged and continued his joke. “Also, I think it’s for the best that we get to know each other first.”

  The angel offered no reaction. She stared at him with her sapphire eyes. The idea of the angel having turned into a statue crossed his mind. But her lips parted and out came a voice that struck him nostalgic.

  “What does a servant of Hell intend by interfering with the workings of Heaven?” she asked him.

  “First of all, I am no servant. I am…” He thought for a moment for a better term and smiled. “An agent of Hell. Secondly, I know nothing of what you’re saying. I was merely going about my duties as my nature commands it.”

  “You obediently follow your duties as your nature commands it, despite having a messenger from Heaven already present as your target’s guard?” She looked at him with much condescension. “You are either audacious or foolish.”

  “Can I not be both?” Caelum teased, provoking the angel into lowering her blade. The blade touched the skin of his neck, burning him. As expected, the silver blade was blessed by Heaven, therefore deadly to demons. He dared not gulp, lest his Adam’s apple be marked.

  “Speak the truth,” the angel demanded of him. “Or you will never see the fiery gates of Hell again.”

  “Which would not be much of a punishment, really. There is a reason why I choose to reside on the mortal land rather than stay in Hell,” Caelum claimed. He caught a glimpse of the angel’s annoyance before she drove the blade down, puncturing the ground once more, splitting the concrete.

  She looked around in confusion. Her enemy had vanished.

  “Perhaps you are the foolish one,” Caelum whispered in her ear, materializing out of the
darkness from behind. “Cornering a demon in the shadows, really. What do they teach you way up there?”

  The angel forced her elbow back in an effort to connect with his stomach, but her arm was met with nothingness. She wheeled around, eyes darting left and right. She clutched her blade tightly in one hand, her teeth gritted. But every corner had shadows on this cold dark night. Every corner was a hiding place for the demon she sought.

  Caelum felt the exciting fire burn inside him. Watching the angel frantically seek for him in her confusion was a funny achievement for the demon. First time I meet someone from Heaven, and we’re friends already, he thought to himself before speaking aloud.

  "Are all angels pretty like you?" Caelum's voice echoed around her. She did not answer his query, however. The pleasure of taunting her filled him, and he spoke again from a different spot. "It is my first opportunity to see an angel, really. And I must say, I'm thinking of converting to become one of you if it meant I'd be surrounded by such beauty. Ah, if only that were possible."

  "You have no place in Heaven, demon," she remarked, not enjoying his game.

  "Now, now. Don't be rude," Caelum told her, chuckling to himself. "You don’t have to call me by my general species. I do have a name." He jumped into the shadows behind her and stepped into the dim light. He spread his hands forward and gave her a smile when she spun around. "My name is Caelum. And you are?"

  She turned around to face him with contempt in her face. "Caelum?" the angel repeated. "Sky? Heaven? How dare you claim the name of our home."

  "Ah, so you are familiar with the language." Caelum offered her a mock applause. "Forgive me, but I have not heard your name yet."