Christina Worrell
An Angels Ascent
By Christina Worrell
First in the Faellin Angels Realm Saga
© Copyright 2011 Christina Worrell
Cover By: Ashley Lane
Published By: Midnight Hour Publishing
http://www.midnighthourpublishing.com/
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any mean without prior permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
http://authorchristinaworrell.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/BrokenAngelPoetry
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This is one of the first books I began and the hardest to write. I poured hundreds of hours into this book and wanted it perfect. The more I did the more I felt it was not ready. I put it off, wrote another book, and finally convinced myself it was time to let it go. This series is not just paranormal or a romance. It’s to show my deep thoughts and feelings about my religion.
As a Pagan most people automatically believe the worst of me. I don’t worship more than one god; I don’t worship Satan, dance naked, or drink blood. What magic I do is with my laptop. It took until I turned 30 to figure out what I truly believed and not allow others to put me down. Judge me or not but I feel ALL creatures and living things are equal. Not just humans.
I find myself coming back to various religions such as Buddhism and Wicca. We have destroyed our world, our home, and it’s only a matter of time until even the blind shall see. Take a look around at what we are doing. There’s so much unnecessary devastation because humans are lazy. Technology is a great thing but at what price? What do our advancements cost the future?
This is one possible reality for us, paranormal or not. It could happen… Mother Nature does not take kindly to thieving, destroying, and wasteful people. I have done the same thing myself and only later realized my mistake… is it too late to save what’s left?
DEDICATED TO
This book I dedicate to those few who pushed me or told me it would not happen, without their doubt that I could be a published writer this story would not exist. In my heart I knew it had to be written and scared as I was creating my first book I never really gave up.
It took nearly a decade from the first thought that popped into my head and it was not complete until the last idea this last year. I could not let it sit abandoned in my drawer just wasting space. I had to prove it to many people including myself.
Thank you for standing by me, pushing me, doubting me, and encouraging me. Those who stood by me know who you are, Ashley Lane... Last to my brother Michael Edward Dugdale who was adopted and I never found no matter how hard I tried. If you are my guardian angel it means more than you will ever know for never letting me go…
CHAPTER ONE
It was nearly pitch black outside as I, Faellin Angel Hunter, walked to my friend Raven’s slightly secluded house. I was to meet part of my coven there at seven, twilight. We were going to hunt for a demonic being that had recently come to our small town. It was one of many to come to our small, north eastern town of Massachusetts. They’ve been around for a very long time with the human populace completely unaware.
I wasn’t like most people, as you may have already guessed. I’d sensed other beings since I was old enough to notice the difference between a woman and a man, or different races. I had thought at that very tender age they were of a different race. Luckily, I had not come to one’s attention as a child, when I was completely defenseless.
Most people would think it was your average, every day, sadistic serial killer. I knew better. I ran into it one afternoon coming home from dropping money off at the bank. It was late, because I had to close my store. Obviously, I shouldn’t have been out alone, but in most scenarios, I could handle myself. He didn’t pay me any attention, going about his way. I figured he was after someone. That was when I began hunting them.
Without my powers as an adept witch, my third degree black belt, and my empathic ability, I would have died many times over. I was probably one of the deadliest women on the hemisphere. No, I’m not bragging.
I had been picked on and tortured so much as a child for my peculiarities, that when an adult suggested self-defense in the orphanage, I went all out. I sacrificed everything but schoolwork to learn any, and all, that I could. I pushed myself to the point my authority figures were worried and had me see a counselor. Eventually, they saw I was responsible and sent me to see a Master.
Looking up I realized I was at Raven's house already. She lived only a few blocks from me. I had a large coven, but only two girls other than Raven, could hold their own at night, when all the evil came out. I trained them myself. They were devoted only because of their pasts. When something tried to hurt you, you only had two options, to fight back or die.
I ran up the chipped, broken sidewalk and rang the doorbell. It would be a few minutes, I was sure, before they were ready. Raven has a knack for losing things right before she leaves the house.
I smoothed my hair and tugged my leather jacket into place while I waited.
Raven shared one side of a medium sized two-tone duplex with one of the girls in our coven, Alisa. Both were already inside waiting on me. Normally, I would never recommend for four girls to haunt the streets at night, but we had no choice. It was this, or allow the demons to get out of control. To my knowledge, no one else knew about them.
Raven let me in. I followed her into her small, dark living room. They were either waiting, or getting ready to walk out the door. They had redecorated and moved the living room around, again. They usually did so once a month.
Raven was wearing black, skintight, designer low rider jeans with pretty gemstones and a tight colorful baby tee with a V-neck. Her earrings were silver and hung straight to her shoulder, a bit flashy but the overall effect was appealing in a stand out kind of way.
Under my long, black leather jacket, I wore an old samurai sword that had ancient dialects along the blade. Two curved knives known as kris or kalis to foreigners, too long to be called daggers, were stashed in each of my thigh high, leather boots. The sheaths were invisible against the boots, and matched identically. The other three girls were attired much the same if not sexier. We never went out unprepared. One mistake was enough. In order to keep innocents safe, we had to live to fight another day. We took our job seriously.
Demons were immune to almost everything. No holy water or crosses would stop them. Preaching the gospel only made them laugh. The only thing I knew of that worked was chopping their heads off, that would definitely kill them, or maybe a bazooka or a flamethrower, which was currently unattainable, I checked. They were from different realms. I’d questioned one once, before I killed it. How they got here was still a mystery. All I knew was they had found some kind of gateway. They needed to keep their smelly asses on their side of the gates, and I intended to rectify that.
Alisa and Simone were waiting on Raven to find her blue jean jacket that matched her pants. Alisa sat on the edge of their sofa, and Simone stood pacing anxiously by the window. I studied Simone unobtrusively, noticing the expression and the waves of irritability flowing off of her. I would have to have a little chat with my friend. Empaths cannot control their ability, even when it comes to their friend’s privacy.
Simone’s outfit was a stunning two-piece cat suit that fit skin tight. Not exactly leather or Lycra, but some kind of amazing material, nonetheless.
“Did you check the hall closet by chance?” I asked. I’d known she w
ouldn’t be ready.
“I checked there first. Alisa, I think I left it in your room.”
Alisa ran back to her room. Three minutes later she joined us with said jacket. I turned and went back to the door. I was impatient by nature, a bad thing really, that caused me more problems in the long run. The others were right behind me, Simone in just as big of a hurry. She wanted to get back and party, I was sure. That could be why she was aggravated maybe. Simone lived to party. She was responsible when she worked, but she also partied just as hard.
Other than weapons we all had cell phones. If we got separated, we’d only need to call each other, or if someone was hurt, call the authorities. The cops were beginning to call us by first names. We’re at a lot of crime scenes. Which was a bad thing for our reps, but we really had no choice in the matter. I didn’t see anyone else out there kicking big bad demon butt. Maybe someone was in other states or countries. We sure as hell didn’t advertise.
The rest of the coven thought we were just witches. I’d have never put the others in danger, but the last time I was on my own I nearly died. As bad ass as I was, tiny or not, there was always someone a little more dangerous, especially if that someone wasn’t human.
We chatted quietly, pretending to be four stupid, young girls out all alone and helpless. I’d have thought the demon wouldn’t be fooled, our clothes giving us away, but it was also club getup. Either they were stupid, or didn’t care. Most probably didn’t know humans were aware of their existence. Simone explained how her day had gone. I wasn’t enthusiastic about hearing more, because she told us the same story each time, her job was as monotonous as it got. We seriously needed new material. Next time I’d tell them how my day had gone. My life was at least a little more interesting, biased or egotistical or not. I met different people every day.
Twenty minutes and a horrid monologue later we found the demon. They were a good-looking lot, but smelled like burning chemicals or something. Being an empath I could feel the violence they craved. They’re usually tall, dressed in expensive looking clothing, and moved with grace that spoke of centuries of hunting and killing. If a normal, unsuspecting, human ran into one, they would just say hot, and then most likely die. They wouldn’t attribute the smell to the gorgeous hunk near them.
This one was pretty much the same, a sexy Calvin Klein model with beautiful baby blues through downtown in search of some delicious piece of ass, not to get laid but to get fed.
It didn’t take long to get his attention, once we had found him. We’d be a very lovely meal. He wanted something quick tonight I was sure, a regular buffet that would come right to him. Four girls were nothing compared to the average demon, but we were not normal. Something he’d find out very shortly.
I’d never seen a demon rape a human. I don’t think we were their type in the sexual way at least.
What he didn’t realize was I might appear tiny, but I was deadly.
I waited for him to get within ten feet before I pulled my sword out. By then it was too late. If they ran, and they normally did when they realized that the prey was also a predator, I usually caught them within ten steps. If I didn’t I was screwed. I couldn’t put too much distance between the girls and me. I’d learned my lesson well. Being separated was just as bad as being alone, for me and them. The streets could be a jungle, one where if you wanted to live, you fought. One day I’d really lose, and lose badly maybe fatally.
I checked for witnesses, and then I proceeded to hunt my prey.
He hesitated, and that’s all it took. I drew my sword and swung as I lunged towards him and connected easily. When my sword slid through the neck, I could feel the stomach wrenching crack of bone to metal as it reached the spinal cord. His head flew a good twenty feet, next to a run-down TV shop. Simone grabbed the head, and Raven helped me drag the body out of sight. Alisa kept watch.
Now the magic started. I loved being a witch and riding the high that we sometimes got off of doing magic. Nothing could explain the awesomeness of being a true Wiccan and using our god-given powers. A rush of heavenly feelings enveloped you, making you want to dance naked in the moonlight, or something like a hippie.
We called forth the four corners, asked for a blessing, and hoped our spell worked. Each demon had to be sent back with a different spell each time. We each came up with random ones in our down time. This was something that didn’t make much sense, but we had no choice. If the authorities got involved and somehow traced it back to us, then we wouldn’t be able to stop the demons, and the city would eventually be over run. I didn’t want to even think about that.
The wind picked up as we began and the streetlight flickered. We could affect our surroundings depending on how much power we used. It left behind a signature trail as well that let other witches know we were here.
My magic was the strongest. I’d dropped a demon once with a quick spell. Something I did only in emergencies, because in most cases, the energy came from the spell caster, it had to come from somewhere or someone.
“This demon we hold,
Unknown realms behold
We return what’s yours,
Through whatever doors
Its evil a heavy rotting burden
Unwanted turmoil, torture, a sin.
Take back what was sent forth
It’s to us of no worth!”
We then call the four corners again and shut down the spell. This one wasn’t as good as some we had done, but that didn’t matter. The words helped, but it was the intentions behind the spell and the spell weaver or witch that did the job. Being the most powerful of the four I controlled the spell, allowing the energy being used to come from the slain demon. If you were fast enough you could tap into it before it went to wherever energy goes. It would weaken the others significantly if they were to provide the energy, and depending on the spell could kill. I didn’t need to lose too much, or I couldn’t protect them. Raven was the next most powerful after me. She was probably one of the most powerful in the city. Only she didn’t enjoy it like most. She did it only to control her powers. An untrained witch was bad news.
Only extremely powerful witches could tap, hold, and control others powers. These powers were called auras by some or even souls. Some claimed that the soul was entirely different from an aura and did not contain power. I don’t know which was true. I did know that if you could tap a living person’s power, you could use it until either, they stopped you, if they even can, or you drained them dry, which posed the theory it was connected to the soul. Or rather, that the power was something that sustained us as much as blood or air. I was one of these people, but I’d found that under pressure, I hesitate, and that one second could cause me my life. That and it didn’t always work, for some reason. I think it was because the being I tapped fought back.
It’s also very complicating. First, you had to identify their signature, every witches was unique. Second you had to be strong enough to wield yours and theirs at exactly the same time. This was something I wasn’t sure I was ready for just yet. Third once you had tapped into it and gained control, if strong enough they would definitely fight to get it back, so you had to maintain that control the entire time. You had to stay calm, and think carefully on exactly what you wanted to do with the power, while making sure you didn’t use any of your own. Because if they mixed it would cause a very uncontrollable surge, similar to a hurricane, and suck you both dry because power in its basic form was extremely unstable and would turn itself on you. This meant unless I was dead I don’t drain them.
Fourth rumor has it, you became tainted if you sucked an innocent dry. A stain that’s recognizable by all those with my curse accompanies your signature, or ‘smell', and they’d sometimes unconsciously avoid you.
A corrupt witch was a taboo, or an unwelcome witch within our society. Something never forgotten from the Salem Witch Trials in the late sixteen hundreds, when the tainted witches had eventually been caught for it and burned at the stake. My theory any ways, well tho
se who were not so powerful they’d evaded all hunters.
Personally, I think the way those people were executed was a bit unjust. How could they even accuse one of being tainted, unless they themselves were witches with the gift? Any of the tainted would probably escape, leaving only innocents behind to take the fall.
A blemish that some would hunt down and kill outright still today. You didn’t play when it came to stealing other's magic. However, if you were strong enough to get that far there're few who could take you down, maybe a group but not a single hunter.
Last, it twisted you until you went insane. Magic was not meant to be manipulated, only harnessed temporarily and released once more back to where it came from. Basically, it was a circle never ending. Something I had a theory about, was that each witch’s energy was unique and bound to them, meaning we are really only meant to use our own. To me that is a sign.
We each silently thanked whichever god or goddess we worshiped for our success. In my case, I just sent out a silent thank you. I didn’t have a religion other than Wicca, and didn’t worship anything. I’d saved my own ass so many times I felt that my success was because I’d trained so hard through the years. I appreciated the girl's help, but this was my job. I felt I’d been chosen for this. Or more truthfully, that it had chosen me. We’re picked by fate to wield this responsibility honestly, and help those who could not.
I cleaned my sword and sheathed it. It was an original fifteenth-century samurai sword with an impressive hilt. The alloys back then were stronger quality compared to the current methods. Good legit swords were hard to come by nowadays. They were made for visual appreciation instead of actual use.
“This one was easy, wish they all were,” Simone said, dusting her body off. It seemed she had blown off some steam and was riding the high we got from being victorious. That or she was having an adrenalin rush.
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