Only the Fallen (UnHallowed Series Prequel)

by Tmonique Stephens

  “Nope,” Sophie said. “He seemed really invested in you. We gotta bail soon,” she whispered low. “Need some sleep before midnight.”

  Scarla nodded.

  “How have you come to be?” Dina asked, when she really wanted to know who fathered the Halfling.

  Scarla looked around at the other customers before she leaned closer to Dina. “I’m adopted. Chayyliél found me, but gave me over to the state. I know my mother was killed by Darklings when I was a baby.” She stared into her coffee. “I don’t know who my father is. They, we, never speak of him.” She paused for a sip and Sophie squeezed her hand. She wasn’t as vocal as Scarla, but was the calm, tranquil alter ego.

  “Anyway, Chay is the best fill-in daddy a girl could ever have. He’s taught me everything I need to survive the UnHallowed world we live in. Actually, they all did.”

  “All of the hundreds who fell?” Dina said.

  Scarla laughed. “No, just our merry band of five UnHallowed. More come by now and then, but it’s really just the five and me.”

  Five? “Who are the others, Scarla?”

  “Well, there is Gideon of course. Then there’s Bane. He was just a lower angel in the Celestial Army—”

  “He has the best tattoos.” Sophie gave a dreamy sigh.

  “And Sam, but he’s not around much. He sticks to the shadows.” Scarla continued.

  “Sam?” Dina didn’t remember an angel named Sam.

  A cloud passed and blocked the sunlight, throwing their side of the street into the shadows. Sophie strained to see the sky from her seat. “Oh, no. Is it gonna rain?”

  The air around them crackled and thickened. The lights in the shop dimmed, casting shadows everywhere. The coffee shop’s door dinged as someone crossed the threshold.

  The tableau froze: Sophie still looking at the sky, the guy who winked at her had his cup to his lips, and the barista and her customer waiting for change. All frozen in place except for Scarla and Dina.

  Scarla jumped and her cup clattered to the table. “Sam! What are you doing here?” Surprise strung her voice tight.

  Dina turned. Her neck strained as she tilted her head, her gaze sweeping over a leather clad chest, broad shoulders, a squared jawline to meet the flinty fire-rimmed stare of Sammiél, the Archangel of Death.

  8

  Peering down from a rooftop at the street below, Gemma welcomed the pounding rain cleansing the Darkling goo off her armor. The battle had been glorious. Every slash, hack, thrust of her sword slayed the enemy for all eternity. They couldn’t return once an Empyreal blade ended their existence. Even though they had lost two warriors, it was a good night… until Aron demanded her return.

  Gemma unfurled her wings and stepped from the roof. She flew over the city Aron had directed her and the company to. Usually, she enjoyed studying the busy landscape of people and cars. Humans had a frenetic quality to their activities that always managed to entrance her.

  Today, she didn’t people watch, attempting to decipher the myriad of motives possessing them. Today, she had a mission. The most important she’d ever been assigned. As pro-tempore leader of the Omega company, the gravity of the mission weighed heavily on her shoulders.

  Find the chancellor.

  She directed the rest of her company to fan out to all points in the city. They searched, quietly, for the chancellor. Everyone except Dina.

  The whispers were impossible to ignore. Her absence at the battle did not go unnoticed. The other captains questioned Dina’s competence, her loyalty. They dismissed her accomplishments as if the obstacles she’d surmounted, placed in her path by those same angels, were of no consequence. The injustice of the accusations riled Gemma. They had their differences, but Dina was loyal and logical.

  Enough of the speculation, Gemma chided herself. Whatever Dina’s reason, she would answer to the chancellor when he returned and none other.

  Now, Gemma’s speculation turned to the situation at hand. How did Aron know the chancellor was missing? He could be on a special assignment for the Archangels. It is not as if he hadn’t left the school for longer periods of time and returned. Why would this time be any different?

  But it felt different. A premonition of death. A precursor of monumental changes to come. Those pending changes had foreshadowed the army since the Fall. Changes she couldn’t foresee. Gemma had the power of foresight as did many angels. Unfortunately, it only worked on humans and not on celestial beings and events. Angels were as blind to their future as humans.

  A scent caught her attention. Gemma dove from the sky and landed in the middle of the wet sidewalk. A fraction of her power seeped out, causing the unknowing humans to veer around her. She didn’t need the distraction while she tipped her head back and filtered out the diesel of a passing school bus, the exhaust from rush hour traffic, the grilled meats from a food truck clashing with the stench of a nearby dumpster, and the multitude of odors cast off from humans saturating the air. This scent was so much purer than the rest. It smelled of the sun and sky and Heaven, and it grabbed hold of her and wouldn’t release.

  She closed her eyes on the distractions of the world around her and allowed the fragrance to pull her through the crowd of humans, until it suddenly ended.

  Where did it go? Lost in thought, the trail vanished, replaced by a floral aroma she couldn’t penetrate. She opened her eyes to a huge bouquet of carnations, daffodils, gardenias, and freesias. The same variations of blooms and others surrounded her. She’d stumbled into a florist shop.

  A squeal dropped her gaze to a toddler strapped into a stroller. “Just another second, Honey. Mommy’s almost done.” The woman was at the register. The child wasn’t squealing for the mother. Her sweet brown eyes were glued to Gemma. The purity of the child’s innocent soul momentarily trapped her. The little one raised her arms, an appeal for freedom.

  I don’t have time. A yellowish bruise peeked through the child’s hairline. Suddenly, Gemma had time. She lowered to her haunches as a question formed in her mind. How did the little one get injured? She hadn’t come for this. Interfering in human lives was expressly forbidden.

  “Coming, Honey.” Her mother said while the florist wrapped her flowers.

  Gemma looked into the child’s eyes and saw what happened to her a week ago. A tumble from the sofa onto a plastic toy, her mother horrified at what inattentiveness had caused. A simple accident. Gemma considered the child’s long and mostly happy future. There were some struggles ahead, but she was strong enough to overcome. The bruise was nothing that would affect the outcome of her life. Only then did Gemma prick her finger on the dagger at her side and spread a dab of her essence on the child’s bruise. Instantly, the spot vanished.

  “Alright. Let’s go home.” The mother settled her purse on the arm of the stroller and the flowers in the basket beneath.

  “Be fearless, little one,” Gemma whispered and stepped aside. She followed them outside and moved away from the shop, away from the overwhelming smell of flowers. Blocks turned into a mile with no hint of the scent again. Frustrated, she took to the sky and flew back to the flower shop. The opposite direction had to be the correct way. Two blocks later she caught the special blend of sun, sky, and Heaven again, and followed it into a park. Across a green field, through a wooded path, the scent wound its way through a hiker’s trail. She walked past a few humans huffing their way up a hillside. All turned back before reaching the summit. The humidity and afternoon sun proving too much for them to overcome.

  Gemma didn’t waver. She stormed up the hill to the flat top, where the scent blanketed everything. Except, there was nothing up here but foliage and a slab of rock. The air stilled, not a single breeze ruffled her feathers. The scent distilled down to a single direction...beneath the rock slab.

  Gemma passed through it and into the chamber below. The glow from her inner light illuminated the rough stone walls and the lush green grass. Here, the fragrance was overwhelming, almost an impenetrable wall seeping into her body an
d filling her to capacity. It grew stronger as she moved to the next chamber…and discovered the withered husk in the corner.

  The white and silver trimmed celestial robes told his identity because the corpse would give no secrets. Not in its condition. Still, she folded her wings, stiffened her spine, and saluted Braile, the Chancellor of the Celestial Army.

  Only after a wealth of emotions drowned her, did she drop to her knees and bowed low. Sobs racked her body. Her wings beat against the floor in rage. Drawn by her distress, the members of Omega company found her and their sorrow twined with hers. The ground trembled from their lamentations. Dust and rubble rained though none touched the now shielded body.

  Gemma buried her grief. There was much to do. Someone to find because angels didn’t lay down and die. They were killed…and worse…his precious essence had spilled all over the chamber floor, the catalyst for the grass growing absent sunlight.

  But not all of him watered the ground. The last drop of an angel’s grace was stronger than the rest of the grace flowing in an angel’s body. It was their final link to Father and their body would never willingly give it up. It had to be forced out.

  And the chancellor’s last drop was gone. Drained of every drop of his grace, nothing of Chancellor Braile remained. That’s why only a husk remained.

  She touched her forehead to the hem of his robes and swore to Heaven, “With the last of the grace left in my body…I will avenge you.”

  9

  Death. Also known as Sammiél, third in line to Metatron. Dina knew him not by the crescent shaped clef on his chin or his pitted, soulless, fire-rimmed eyes as detailed in the scrolls locked deep in the archives. Nor by the charred skull covered by a thin translucent membrane of parchment-skin or the burnt orange, sunset color of his wings. The overwhelming sense of imminent demise leeching from him, that was the giveaway.

  Dina clutched her blade, barely aware she’d called it forth until the metal took form in her hand. She vaulted to her feet, flipping her chair over in the process. Shadows poured from Death. His own personal Niagara Falls of darkness washed over her, clung to her skin, and swallowed her whole, all before she thought to allow her wings to appear and fly.

  Surrounded by a stygian world of breathless dimensions—a world she hadn’t known existed—Dina knew she wasn’t alone. She blinked and strained to see anything in the vast nothingness. She pushed her aura out into the void. The shadows shrank. Now the space she occupied had measurable height, width, and length that were vast, yet gave no answer as to her location.

  A pair of combat boots stomped into view. That could only mean somehow, she was prone or upside down. Neither made sense, but she didn’t dwell on her orientation. She focused on righting herself and bringing her sword up.

  Dina had just managed to get her feet under her when a blast to her chest pitched her further into the shadows. Miles seemed to pass until she crashed into something solid.

  Her bones shattered and she collapsed. Every part of her was broken, but healing fast. Bones no better than mush, she flopped onto her stomach and blinked. Sammiél had tripled. Three of him surrounded her. It took another second for her to realize each figure was dressed differently, looked different.

  Two UnHallowed caged her, blocking any escape, while Sammiél stalked closer. His movements precise, contained, as if in effort to contain his evil. Temporarily crippled, she couldn’t move to defend herself. His hand closed around her throat and he lifted her into the air. She still had her sword. A twist of her wrist shortened the blade.

  Death’s gaze shifted to the weapon in her hand. He didn’t move as she brought the tip to his side and stabbed him. Another twist and the sword extended through his opposite shoulder. Skewered, he should be screaming, melting from the Empyreal steel slicing him in two.

  A laugh that held not an ounce of humor eased from his lips. He switched his hold of her to his opposite hand and pulled the blade from his body. In his palm, the metal transitioned through all its lengths and configurations. His flesh sizzled from the contact until he flung it away. Her only source of protection vanished in the murk.

  “Your little toothpick can’t kill me. Not in here.” He tilted his head to the shadows undulating around them.

  Desperate, she called to her sword, and received no answer. Her palm remained empty. The shadows sucked at her aura, milking her strength away every time she attempted to use it, keeping her from healing.

  No strength to speak.

  No strength to peal Death’s hand from her throat.

  Dina prepared for him to rip her head from her shoulders.

  “Have you learned your lesson?” Voice deep like the threat of a storm on the horizon, flames flickered in Sammiél’s eyes.

  Lesson? This was a lesson?

  “Yes. It was, Angel.” He spat the last word as if it burned his tongue.

  Did I speak?

  “None can hide their thoughts from me. I am Death.” Her head whiplashed on her shoulders from him shaking her.

  Someone shouted. There was a scuffle. She couldn’t see until Sammiél stopped rattling her. Over his shoulder, she spotted new UnHallowed. He struggled against the tight hold of the other two.

  “Enough, Sam!”

  By the sudden furrow of his brow, he seemed annoyed at the interruption. “Remove yourself, Bane, or take her place,” Sammiél snarled.

  “Fine. I’ll take her place.”

  A growl edged from between Sammiél’s very white teeth and a ripple moved through the parchment stretched over his skull.

  “You’ve made your point, Sam. Now let her go,” Bane said.

  Sammiél’s lidless eyes locked on her. She met his gaze without fear. Prepared to die.

  One by one, Sammiél’s fingers released her neck. Dina fell. She braced for impact, but this time the shadows cushioned her landing. Good thing because she hurt too much already.

  Death crouched beside her. His sunset colored wings flared, cutting off the sight of the others. In a sense, they were alone.

  Disgust curled his lip. He wiped his hand on his black jean covered thigh as if touching her offended him. “Now. The lesson. Pay close attention to what I say because you will never have a second chance. Are you ready to hear my words?”

  Not trusting her voice, Dina managed a nod.

  “Touch what is mine at your peril. Because the price is your life. I don’t have much except the UnHallowed I keep company with… and one Halfling female.” His voice silky.

  Scarla.

  “Yes. All of this is about Scarla. And before you think your question, let me answer it…Yes. I will kill an angel. I’ve done it before. Relish doing it again. Understand?” The fire in his eyes danced as he nodded.

  Dina nodded with him.

  He stood and pivoted. His wings flared again and then tucked close to his body as the shadows engulfed him, leaving her alone.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the shadows peel back and the one called Bane step forward.

  He, too, crouched over her. She braced for another attack, yet all he did was smooth the hair out of her face and carefully gathered her in his arms.

  “I’m going to take you where you belong, to Gideon.”

  No, burned her throat. She didn’t belong with him. She wanted to go home. There was where she belonged. Even if they didn’t want her. That was her home, not here. Not on Earth. Not with the UnHallowed. Not with Gideon.

  10

  Dina jerked upright, body tight, prepared for a fight. In one hand, her sword. The other curled and raised. Her eyes couldn’t focus, her gaze darting from color to color, absorbing the vibrancy until she settled on the Halfling.

  Scarla yelped and jumped all the way to the door of the bedroom. Though poised to flee, she paused and glanced over her shoulder at Dina. “Are you okay?”

  A quick mental check showed all was in order. “Yes.”

  Scarla shifted a little more into the room. “Should I leave? I understand if you hate me.
I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” Her babbling competed with her fidgeting.

  “Why would I hate you?” Dina swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. All of her ached, but she managed not to groan. The pain would subside soon enough.

  “Well, Sam did beat you into next week because of me.” Scarla’s gaze dropped to her feet.

  Dina wouldn’t blame the girl for the actions of others. “He could have killed me.” That was tough to admit. “He did not…probably because of you.”

  Her lack of skill facing Sammiél was a lesson in humility. All her training with Gideon and her continued advancement after his fall, none of it made a difference. Even her Empyreal sword hadn’t changed the outcome. He certainly lived up to the moniker, Archangel of Death. If an Empyreal sword couldn’t stop him, what could?

  Scarla wrung her hands together. “They’re really not that bad. None of them are really that bad.”

  Something worse than an UnHallowed, Dina didn’t want to meet. “They are UnHallowed, Scarla.”

  The girl’s shoulders stiffened along with her spine. Her hands curled while her features turned glacial. “As am I.”

  Through no fault of your own. Silently, Dina finished Scarla’s sentence and found a growing bud of respect. She defended the UnHallowed—her surrogate fathers as they defended her. If the UnHallowed could care for a fragile infant, nurture that child to adulthood, if they were prepared to die for that child and if that child returned that same loyalty…maybe what Dina continued to see in Gideon could be found in the others of his kind.

  The book in the archives detailed all their wrongs. It was time she discovered if anything redeemable lay within their condemned bodies. “I’m sure you are the best of them.”

  A small smile tweaked the corner of Scarla’s lips. She popped her hip out and dropped her hand on the curve. “You got that right.”