by Leo Romero
Contents
TITLE PAGE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
THANKS FOR READING
SOUL OF STONE
FALLEN ANGEL BOOK 3
LEO ROMERO
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Copyright © 2017 Leo Romero
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Cover art by Lou Harper © 2017
Chapter 1
I was having a bad day. And it was about to get worse.
I’d been called to Dark Suits Tower on urgent business. I stood there in Mr. Smith’s office, the aroma of plastic intermingled with brimstone strong in my nostrils, my mind pinging in alarm.
Draxil, the ex-prince of Hell who’d been betrayed and killed by Satan’s disciples, was standing over me. The last time I saw him he’d been the Armor of Agony; his exoskeleton used in the ritual to open a portal between Hell and Earth. Now he wasn’t pieces of armor but a fully formed, fully functional, red-skinned demon with a ragged loincloth tied around his waist.
The Dark Suits had spent an age collecting the pieces of the Armor to conduct experiments on it. Smith said something had gone awry during the tests. That was the understatement of a lifetime. I gazed up in disbelief at the ugly demon sweating me, his snout gnarled, his jagged fangs clenched in a scowl. Two horns, one broken in half, jutted from a thicket of tangled hair.
Draxil glared down at me, his red eyes boiling like the contents of a smoldering volcano.
I whipped my head around to meet Smith, who had a sheepish grin on, his gaze fixed on the smoke-gray carpet. “What the hell happened?” I asked him.
“We don’t have time to waste, Stone,” Draxil growled before Smith could answer. “Where is the Dark Bearer?”
He wanted Aurora. The Dark Bearer. The one who’d be sacrificed in the Armor to fulfil the prophecy of raising Hell to Earth. I’d been designated her protector by the upper echelons of Heaven. There was no way I could hand her over to demons, especially Princes of Hell, sorry ex-Princes of Hell.
I went to draw my sword, Excalibur, when a massive rumble of thunder rocked the sky outside. There was something not right about that clap of thunder, something not natural. It was too loud, too powerful, too ethereal. It literally shook the room, and I found my eyes rolling of their own accord.
Draxil was staring up at the ceiling intently, his mouth open in anticipation.
My eyes met the windows, and to my bewilderment, the sky was swarming with the darkest clouds I’d ever seen. A blinding flash of lighting forked down from that oppressive sky and lit up the whole room almost white. It remained that way for longer than it should have. Again, there was something not right about that lighting. It was too strong, too bright. Draxil whirled on his heels to face the windows. He stormed over to it like a machine, suddenly forgetting about Smith, myself, and the Dark Bearer.
I met Smith’s stare, who was looking as perturbed as I’d ever seen him. Eyes wide, mouth a gash across his face. Like a pair of moths drawn to flame, we both stepped over to the window, the fact we were walking toward an ex-Prince of Hell seemingly lost on us. But, things weren’t normal at that precise moment. Things had gone all Twilight Zone, at least in terms relative to our already weird lives. As we drew closer to those windows, another flash of lighting split the sky in half, and I flinched back. When the white light vanished, I spotted something in the sky in the far distance. It was streaming in toward Dark Suits Tower, the building we were in taller than anything else around.
I narrowed my eyes to get a better look and realized it was riders. Two of them. They were on horseback, and their steeds were galloping through the air toward us. One horse pale and emaciated, the other sea-green with brown patches of rotting flesh. They shimmered with a dark energy, something like coal dust falling away from their hooves with every thrust of horse leg. They drew a little closer, and I could now see that the riders were shrouded in hoods, obscuring their faces. But they were armed. The one in the dark-green hood held a glowing sword out to the side while the one in the white hood gripped a curved instrument that appeared to be a giant sickle. They raced through the dark sky with a sense of purpose, a powerful energy shrouding them.
“They’re here,” Draxil said, his stare fixed on the outside world. He faced Smith and jabbed a finger at him. “You. Take us to the roof. Now!” He stomped off toward the exit, the chains around his wrists tinkling.
I watched him go. “Hey! What’s going on?”
“No time, Stone,” Draxil grunted over his shoulder, not breaking stride. “Just follow me to the roof!”
I met Smith’s stare. “How is he alive?” I hissed.
Smith went to respond when Draxil shouted, “Move!” at us both.
The hairs on the back of my neck sprang to attention. The fury in that voice was palpable.
Smith jumped into life. He scuttled toward Draxil like a little lapdog. I afforded myself another glance out of the window. Those horses were still galloping in. Whoever they were, they meant business. I turned back, and Draxil threw the door open and stomped out into the hallway.
I watched him go in apprehension. Fear was worming its way into my mind. This could only be bad. Bad for everyone.
Smith vanished out into the hallway, and Draxil’s gravelly voice flew back into the office. “Come on, Stone!”
I got moving. With my heart starting to flutter, I raced out into the hallway and turned the corner to find them both entering the elevator. I jumped in alongside them, Smith and I standing ahead of Draxil, who stood tall, chaperoning us like he was a jailor and we were his prisoners. As the doors closed, I gulped. Smith got the elevator moving up.
“So, is someone gonna tell me what’s going on?” I asked.
“Judgement Day,” Draxil answered.
My brow pinched. “What? Why?”
“It’s a long story, Stone,” Draxil answered. “Goes back millennia.”
“It’s you. It’s got something to do with you.”
“Good to see man’s capacity to think has not been completely neutered since I was last awake,” Draxil scoffed.
I whipped out Excalibur and put the blade next to his neck. Smith cowered in the corner. Draxil didn’t flinch.
“So how about I put you back to sleep,” I sneered.
“Because without me,
the men on those horses will destroy this world,” Draxil answered, his hot gaze fixed on me.
I took big breaths, my mind split in two. I felt compelled to cut the bastard’s head off, but something was telling me I should listen to what he was saying. He could be telling the truth.
But he’s a demon. A powerful demon. My sworn enemy. How could I trust him?
My mouth scrunched up, and my arm started to tremble. Draxil remained like stone, while out of the corner of my eye, Smith was quivering in fear.
Another of those unnatural rumbles of thunder shook the elevator as it came to a halt. The doors slid open, harsh light from the hallway flooding in.
“Are you going to play your hand, Stone?” Draxil asked. “If you are, make it quick because time is short.”
He kept his stare fixed on me, and my arm holding Excalibur started to tremor. I let out a growl and pulled my sword away from Draxil’s neck.
“Wise move,” said Draxil. He turned his attention to Smith, who was still cringing in the corner. “Which way is the roof?”
Smith’s back straightened. “Follow me.” He scuttled out of the elevator and into the hallway.
Draxil stomped past while I was left with conflicting thoughts and emotions surging through me. I couldn’t help but feel I’d regret not killing the SOB right there and then when I had the chance. But something else told me a different story. Something big was going down, and this thing could be the only one to stop it.
I dashed out into the white-walled hallway, my boots clanging on metal grating. Up ahead, Smith was ascending some metal steps. He reached the top and opened the roof door. Lightning turned the hallway even whiter. Draxil stomped out onto the roof, and I swiftly followed, Smith holding the door open for us.
Man, not this damn roof again, I thought to myself as I walked outside. The black markings of the pentagram-shaped portal to Tartarus came into view, and my head swam with nausea. I hoped I’d never lay eyes on it again, and there I was. Draxil went and stood dead center of that portal and gazed up at the dark sky, arms crossed over his scarred and meaty chest. I followed his gaze, and they were there. The horsemen, still incoming.
I went and stood next to Draxil. “Who are they?”
“The Horsemen of the Apocalypse,” he answered, his stare not leaving the two horsemen.
I frowned. “I always thought there were four of them.”
“There are. The other two are behind us.”
Chapter 2
I spun on my heels, and my eyes widened. The other two horsemen were galloping in from the opposite direction. One a bare-chested, hammer-wielding warrior, riding a war horse, jet-black and sturdy. The other was a naked blob with a round, bald head, a total contrast in physical appearance. He rode a bloated, brown horse, its belly sagging.
I turned back the way I came. “Holy moly! What do we do?”
“Fight,” Draxil answered.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”
A door slamming caught my attention. I flicked my head to see Mr. Smith had vanished back through the roof door, leaving us alone with the horsemen. Thanks, Smith!
The horsemen reached the rooftop and pulled up, hovering on the air above us. They circled us, and I watched them in trepidation. Adrenaline flooded my veins. Something was about to go down. Something not good.
The two shrouded figures removed their hoods. The guy riding the half-rotted, green and brown horse had equally rotten flesh, his cheeks chewed away, revealing rows of teeth. Rot-green eyes glowed like fireflies. The other guy was revealed to be a wrinkled man ravaged by age. A wispy, white beard hung down to his waist. His rheumy eyes gave the appearance of blindness, but he stared straight at us both.
We exchanged stares for a few agonizing seconds. My legs trembled; my heart hammered. I had no idea what was going on or what was about to go down. All I could do was wait and see.
Draxil stared up at them, his top lip curled up. I got the distinct impression he really didn’t like those guys.
“Draxil,” the rotten guy finally said, breaking the silence. His voice had a throaty rasp about it that made my skin crawl.
“Pestilence,” Draxil said back, his voice laced with contempt.
“Your return has finally summoned us,” the bare-chested guy with the hammer said, his voice deep and bassy. “It’s been a long wait. We first battled atop Mount Sinai; now we are on a futuristic monument where we will finish what was started all those eons ago.”
“You kill me, War, and Satan will be free to take over the Earth,” Draxil told him.
“There will be no Earth when we are finished with it,” the old guy said in a cold voice devoid of any emotion. Gooseflesh erupted all over my body on hearing that voice.
“You’ve become a law unto yourselves, Death. Drunk on power. You were supposed to herald the new dawn. But instead, you’ll scorch the Earth for the arrival of Satan and his legions. Only I stand in the way.”
“You dare to go against ancient prophecy, fallen one?” the fat guy said in a bloated voice. I was guessing it was Famine. “We’ve been promised the Earth to scorch, human beings to starve, their souls devoured.”
“I’ll die before your sick desires are met, Famine,” Draxil told him.
“Then, you’ll get your wish!” War boomed and leaped from his horse. He raised his hammer and rushed in, huge muscles flexing. A roar bolted from his mouth. Draxil whirled around to meet him, right as War swung his hammer. Draxil lifted his arm, and the markings twisting up his forearm ignited cyan. A shimmering darkness rose from his palm, engulfing his forearm like an oil slick. Draxil thrust his forearm up toward War’s arcing hammer. It struck the dark, and a red flash erupted from the impact, sending them both reeling in opposite directions. I watched them go in numb bewilderment.
Before they could both recover, the other horsemen leaped down into the arena.
Famine wobbled in, flabs of fat rippling across his body. The guy was a monstrosity who’d never seen the inside of a gym but knew the local burger joint inside out. It took him longer to reach Draxil than it would have if he’d been three hundred pounds lighter, but when he did, he spread his flabby limbs out wide, preparing to fall on Draxil’s prone body and squash him.
Draxil shook off the previous blow and clenched his other fist, the markings on his forearm glowing blood red. He opened his palm again, and a ball of violet flame burst on the air inches above it. Famine’s colossal shadow loomed over Draxil. Draxil slung the fireball at Famine. The fireball shot through the air like a baseball, leaving a shimmer behind it. It torpedoed right into Famine’s bellies with a loud whoosh. Violet flames erupted outward. I put my hand up to my eyes to protect them from the heat. Famine’s cellulite-addled skin ignited, and he whirled in an undulating circle, violet hellfire swiftly engulfing him.
Draxil afforded himself a chuckle as he watched Famine burn.
Pestilence threw his hands into the air. Thousands of disgusting flies bored out of his palms toward Famine, wrapping him in a writhing black shroud. They fell away, and the flames were now doused. Pestilence called the flies back over, and they came as a unit, a buzzing cloud on the air. He thrust his hands toward Draxil, and the cloud shot toward him. Draxil didn’t have time to react. His markings ignited, but it was too late. The flies broke into two clouds and aimed for his forearms. They smothered them, his forearms black and writhing, killing his magic. He released a howl of agony that echoed across Chicago.
War had by then recovered from the blow he took. He stormed past me like I wasn’t there to get stuck into Draxil now that they had him.
I was rooted, not knowing what the hell was going on or whose side I was even supposed to be on. I mean, who were the good guys here?
Draxil fell to his knees as the flies continued to chew away at his hands. They buzzed and hummed with feverish hunger. War whipped back his hammer and slammed it into Draxil’s face. There was a meaty thud, and Draxil’s head snapped to the left. War swung the hammer bac
k the way it came, and Draxil’s jaw caught the brunt of the blow. His head slumped between his shoulders in defeat while those flies held him upright.
The horsemen gathered around him in a small circle.
“Now we will finish you, and our time of destruction will be at hand,” Pestilence said, his rot-colored eyes twinkling.
War lifted his hammer above his head, ready to rain down the killer blow to finish Draxil off.
“Stone!” Draxil growled. He threw his head back up to face me. His red eyes burned with desperation. “Don’t let them kill me! It’ll open the portal to Hell!”
“Don not listen to him, angel,” said Death.
“He lies,” Pestilence added.
“No,” Draxil grunted. “If I die, the Dark Bearer will die. We are now connected. Once she dies, they will pave the way for Satan and his hordes to invade Earth.”
My brow knotted. What? Is what he’s saying true?
“Please believe me, Stone,” begged Draxil. “I speak the truth.”
My mind raced. Was he lying? Could I take the risk? What if what he was saying was true? My eyes darted from the horsemen to Draxil.
“Please, Stone,” Draxil said, his pleading gaze on me.
War raised his hammer higher. Panic got me moving. I lit my palm with light magic as I unsheathed Excalibur. I ran light down the blade and raced past the circle of horsemen and stood ahead of Draxil. War let out a cry and went to smash his hammer down. I raised my sword, and he came to an abrupt halt. He staggered as if hit with an electrical charge.
“Let him go,” I ordered, looking them over one by one, turning in small semicircles, Excalibur humming in my hand. Another peal of thunder rocked the sky as we faced off.
“You’ll take the word of a demon over us, angel?” War raged. “He spits nothing but lies.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I said.
“Prophecy cannot be stopped,” spat Pestilence. “It is our divine right. Now step aside.”
I took a deep breath and shook my head. “No.”
