Fallen (Dark Angels Book 2)

by Mandy Lee

  With a renewed sense of purpose, Sam continued along the side of the house toward a darkened doorway. He cupped his hands and peered in through the glass on the top half of the door. He had found the side door to the kitchen. The dark room seemed empty, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out his lock-picking kit - he was a true Boy Scout...always be prepared! This was as good a place as any to infiltrate the home. Sam slid the pick and the tension wrench into the keyhole and began to apply pressure, turning the lock until it clicked open. Stashing his tools, Sam turned the knob and the door opened silently on well-oiled hinges. With a deep breath, he slid into the house like a shadow, shutting the door quietly behind himself. Sam shrugged out of his jacket, not wanting the leather to squeak and give away his location. He set it on the kitchen counter, reaching into the pocket and sliding out his butterfly knife. Sam crept through the kitchen, testing each floorboard as he moved. He emerged into a hallway, poking his upper body around the corner to check for unwanted company.

  The lower floor of the house appeared devoid of any other being. The only sound Sam heard was the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock coming from down the hallway. He slinked around the corner, keeping close to the wall in the shadow of the stairway that led to the second floor. A whizzing noise broke through the quiet; a sharp pain pricked Sam’s chest. He looked down in shock. The feathers from the butt of a dart stuck out through the material of his tee shirt. He reached down and yanked it out as a burning began spreading from the wound. Sam sucked in a sharp breath and dropped the dart to the floor with a clatter.

  Tinkling female laughter broke the silence as Nyx stepped into view, materializing from the darkness.

  “Hello, lover,” she said with a saccharine smile.

  Sam tried to make his body move to attack her, but his feet were rooted to the floor. Movement was impossible; with each attempt the agonizing burning moved faster throughout his body. His veins felt like they were being eaten alive by acid and he was melting from the inside out. He wanted to scream, but his vocal chords were frozen.

  “You’re looking a bit under the weather, sugar,” Nyx said as she sashayed closer, stroking his cheek tenderly with the back of her hand.

  If anything proved the old saying that beauty was only skin deep, it was Nyx. He could hear her talking to him as pain flooded his body, but the words had ceased making sense. It was as though she were speaking to him through a tunnel from very far away. Her face blurred in front of him, her beauty replaced by a horror show. Blood streaked down her face and horns protruded from her forehead. Her eyes glowed with hell fires lit from within. He knew what this was — hellhound blood. It was Sam’s last conscious thought before he succumbed to the hallucinations that became his world.

  On the second story of the mansion, B was busy jimmying open a window. His foot slipped off the narrow trellis and he reached forward quickly to steady himself on the window frame.

  “Shit.” He muttered, his heart beating double-time.

  The fall wouldn’t have killed him. But the injuries he could have sustained would have hampered a second attempt to climb this trellis, which clearly wasn’t designed to hold the weight of a fully-grown angel. B grabbed onto the sill with one hand as he dug around in his pocket for his knife. Flicking it open, he jammed the blade under the window and pushed down on the hilt. It slid open a crack, allowing B to jam the knife farther in. There was just enough room for him to get his fingers under the jamb and shove it up, giving him space to climb through the opening. He flipped his knife closed and climbed onto the sill when a scream cut through the house. Mara. Stealth went out the window. B leapt through the opening and charged through the bedroom he emerged in, throwing open the door that lead to the second floor hallway. Sounds of a fight erupted from a room down the hall. B charged toward the door and kicked it open, the wood snapping and hanging off its hinges. A man was on top of Mara; his teeth were locked on her throat as he groped her. She fought for all she was worth.

  B felt his blood boil. He charged at Mara’s attacker, ripping him off her body and throwing him against the wall with all the force he could muster. The plaster crumbled as the man's body smashed into it. B raced to Mara’s side. Her eyes were wild and glowed bright red; her fangs had descended and she was in full attack mode, fighting B as he tried to hold her and calm her. Blood ran freely from her neck, a chunk of skin was missing where her assailant had bitten her, the tissue having ripped away when B had attacked. He grabbed a bed sheet and tore a strip off, clamping it down on her wound to staunch the flow until her healing ability could kick in. He grabbed her gently by the hair, forcing her head around so she could look in his eyes.

  “Mara, it’s me. It’s okay.” He pleaded, desperate for her fight-or-flight instinct to abate.

  She struggled against him, her eyes flickered back and forth until they finally settled on his. The world disappeared and narrowed to that connection between them. B didn’t move a muscle; he knew if he did, he would lose her to the horror of the moment. As he held her gaze, her eyes changed, the red bled out slowly and emerald green broke through.

  “B?” She said in a small voice.

  He let out a relieved breath. “It’s me. You’re safe.” He felt her body relax.

  “You came for me,” she whispered, reaching to cup his cheek.

  B smiled at the woman he loved. “Always.”

  Suddenly, she tensed. “Behind you!” she shouted.

  B leapt off the bed, spinning to face an irate vampire. Plaster dust covered his head and shoulders making his glowing red eyes more menacing against the chalky whiteness. His sharp fangs were fully distended and he growled low in his throat. Mara scrambled off the bed and huddled in the corner of the room, clutching her neck.

  “He’s my sire. I can’t hurt him,” she shouted to B, her voice desperate.

  “Run!” B yelled.

  She jumped to her feet and scrambled across the bed as the vampire lunged at her. He caught an arm just as B tackled him to the ground. Mara tumbled to the floor, crab-walking backwards to get out of the way. The vampire was faster, but B was driven by the primal need to protect Mara, giving him an unnatural boost of strength. B took hit after hit as the vampire pummelled his face and decided to bide his time until he could get the upper hand. Broken bones were nothing compared to ridding Mara of her psychotic sire. B felt his cheekbone crack as another punch connected, the force of the hit propelling the vampire into position on top of him. Reaching up, B grabbed the vampire’s head between his hands and twisted with all his might. The awful tearing and cracking sounds echoed through the room as the vampire’s head separated from his body. A look of wide-eyed shock was frozen on his lifeless face. B closed his eyes as his upper body was painted red.

  B opened his eyes, shoved the body off him and turned to face Mara. The horror on her face made his heart clench. She must be disgusted with him and with what he’d just done. He pulled himself up to sit and leaned against the bed, dropping his head in shame. One thought kept echoing through his mind…he’d lost her.

  From out of nowhere, Mara launched herself into his arms and buried her head in his neck, heedless of the blood covering him.

  “Thank you,” she sobbed, clutching his shoulders as her body shook.

  B felt his body relax as he buried his face in her wild hair. “I thought I’d lost you...killing him like that...”

  Mara’s body quaked with uncontrollable laughter.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m laughing, but I can’t stop.” Her body shook. “I promise he deserved what he got, and I’ve done much worse myself in the past.”

  “Thank Heofon.” B breathed in relief.

  He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose, making her smile.

  “You’ve got blood all over yourself,” he said, grabbing a corner of the sheet from the bed to wipe her face carefully.

  “So do you.” She reached up and wiped his cheek with the sleeve of her shirt.

>   A creak from down the hallway drew their attention.

  B grabbed Mara’s hand. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  Mara nodded. “Great idea.” She looked at the blood-soaked floor, her sire’s sightless eyes staring up at her in that perpetual expression of shock.

  Linking hands, they got to their feet and made their way back toward the bedroom with the open window. B held onto Mara’s hand until she passed through the window and grasped the trellis for the climb down to freedom. B reached forward to grasp the sill and pull himself through, but came up short. Confused, he reached out again, and once again came up against an invisible force. He slammed his open palms against the force field, unable to break through the magic that was holding him prisoner.

  “What’s happening?” Mara asked from the other side of the window.

  “I can’t get out. There’s some kind of spell blocking me.” He looked at her sadly. “Go, you need to get to the ground. Sergei’s down there.”

  Mara shook her head. “I’m not leaving without you.”

  “Yes, you are,” B said. “I need to know you’re safe.”

  Suddenly B lurched forward, he clutched at his chest with an agonized expression on his face.

  “B!” She shouted, reaching out reflexively to grab for him. Instead, she lost her grip and fell backwards off the trellis, her hands reaching out to him as she tumbled toward the lawn.

  He was frozen, pain snaked its way through his veins as the world around him grew dimmer and dimmer. The last thing he saw before being sucked into a hellish world of visions was the shape shifter who’d shot him, his skin flickering and shifting into B’s form once again.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Keir stood in the darkened backyard of his illegally appropriated mansion staring at the high privacy fences that encircled the lot. He’d tried to fight it, he should be in the house right now taking out those fucking fallen angels as they mounted their ridiculous rescue attempt, but something had drawn him into the yard, and he’d been powerless to resist. His feet had taken him out the back door like they’d been set on auto-pilot. His mind railed against his body as he listened to the shrieks and crashes coming from the house. He needed to get back in there. The urge to kill was so strong but his damn legs just wouldn’t obey his command. Since his soul had been thrust into this vessel, he constantly felt like he was being pulled in two directions, and at some point he would simply tear apart at the seams. Throughout his existence he had used many vessels to carry out his work in the name of Satan, but this one was the most frustrating of all. It should have been perfect. Keir’s body was strong, powerful, and immortal, but somehow it was broken. The voices he heard, scratching at the inside of his brain like animals trying to claw their way out, must be connected to Keir’s original soul. It shouldn’t have been possible, but he could no longer deny it. Somehow a small remnant of the original owner remained locked inside this body with his. How rude.

  Giving in to his anger, Keir stared up at the midnight black sky above him and screamed. The primal noise ripped through the air. He screamed until his lungs burned and his vocal chords cracked. Hunching forward, he spit a mouthful of blood out onto the grass, the coppery taste alternately disgusting him and tasting like the most expensive vintage. He was suddenly jerked upwards by a strange sensation deep within his chest. He was tearing in half, the dark part of his soul sinking down to the depths of Sheol below, the tiny remnant of Keir being drawn inexorably upwards toward some force he couldn't see.

  He turned slowly and looked up at the sky. Two bright lights streaked earthbound, like falling stars. His evil soul immediately recognized enemy combatants. A tiny shred of light scratched away inside his head, desperate to connect with the luminous beings. For the first time since he’d taken possession of this body, both parts of him were in agreement, they wanted to get to the incoming angels. With a frustrated growl, he attempted to move and was finally rewarded when his legs began to carry him back toward the house. He moved slowly at first, picking up speed as he moved, matching the trajectory of the angels’ descent. He streaked across the yard, reaching the brick side of the home, grasped a trellis, and scaled the side of the house at superhuman speed, the leaves from the hanging ivy slapped at his face as he climbed. Anger drove him as he heaved himself onto the roof just as two bright balls of light exploded before him like bombs. Keir’s anger boiled over. He’d accounted for trapping fallen angels with his dark magic, but he had not planned for visitors from Heofon. Oh well, now he'd have a crack at infecting two angels of the light with Satan’s blood. He touched his pocket reverently, the vial hidden within was deceptively small, but capable of catastrophic evil. His ultimate plan for the fallen had been foiled with the arrival of these unexpected guests, but there was no way in Sheol he was returning to Satan empty-handed.

  Keir drew deep, connecting with the stores of dark magic that had been bestowed upon him by his master. He’d been warned to use his new powers sparingly — the energy required to wield satanic magic was far greater than light. His master had told him that his vessel would not be capable of maintaining peak output for long - this was worth the risk. He could only imagine the accolades if he managed to take down the two angels that had emerged from the light before him. They were warrior angels. As they’d materialized from the majestic light that had surrounded them, whips of fire appeared in their hands. With a self-satisfied evil smile, Keir connected to the dark magic stored in his heart. He felt tendrils of evil unfurling, snaking out through his veins toward his left arm. Sparks of evil energy licked through to the hand he held open, palm up. The inverted pentagram with which he’d been branded burned with the fury of hellfire before erupting into a black and orange blaze. Keir felt his veins burning from the inside out as a weapon took shape. The fiery scimitar he held sparked with orange embers. Raising his head, he eyed his quarry. The two angels could not have looked more different — the general and the scholar. The general stepped forward immediately, cracking his whip with authority. His features were sharp, like a bust chiselled from marble. His hair was cut short, military-style, and matched the steely, determined look in his eye. The dark-haired angel hung back and Keir dismissed him without a second glance, more interested in tangling with his friend.

  “Come on, then. Let’s do this.” Keir hissed to the angel.

  “No need to ask twice.” The angel replied, charging forward as he flicked his wrist and let the fiery tendrils of the whip fly toward Keir.

  Keir dodged right, but not quickly enough to avoid the burning tip of the whip. He felt the sting across his cheek, followed by a burn that travelled deep into the tissue of his face, the light seeking to burrow into his body and destroy the evil that riddled his heart.

  He heard the other angel shout out. “Don’t kill him. Fight to maim!”

  Keir was confused, but knew it would be much easier for him to achieve his goal if the angel was busy calibrating his attack to keep him alive. He ducked and rolled toward the angel, slicing out with his scimitar as he righted himself. The angel leapt out of the way, avoiding injury. The two beings circled each other — striking out when they gained the advantage. The battle raged as they leapt back and forth across the roof, dodging and spinning, taking advantage of the changes in elevation to attack from above and below. Flames flared as their weapons clashed; sparks and embers flew out into the dark sky.

  Across the roof, Uriel watched the violent fighting with horror. Michael dodged and weaved as he expertly plied his whip to avoid hitting Keir’s neck, accidentally detaching his head and ending his immortal life. Keir…Uriel’s son. His duty was to vanquish the minions of Satan in all their forms, but he still held hope that there was a remnant of his son trapped inside with the evil being that wore his skin…his face. The precious few moments he’d had with Keir before he’d been stolen away were not enough, certainly not enough to last an eternity. In Heofon and Sheol, there must be some way of reuniting Keir’s spirit with his body. Uriel co
uldn’t allow him to be killed without exhausting every other option. Intellectually, he knew that the kind thing to do may be to allow him to die, giving him eternal rest. As a father, he was just not capable of it. He couldn't reconcile the quiet young man he’d met with the being in front of him. Evil oozed from Keir’s pores and darkness surrounded him like a shroud. The blood that had been drawn in battle was dark and sludgy, his teeth were bared in a snarl, and his eyes shone deadly red. This wasn’t his son…but it was.

  Unable to watch the fighting any longer, Uriel turned his attention to the voice he’d followed. He drew the energy from his heavenly whip back into himself, the pulse and tingle of the weapon’s energy reintegrating into his body. He cast his eyes around the roof of the mansion and saw dark magic encircled the entire building. A shadowy film clung to the walls of the home and shot upwards into the sky, effectively caging in any of the fallen that should dare to enter. He allowed the light energy to build inside his body; it was like a battery recharging. He felt the energy within rising as sparks began to flicker along his skin. He was ready.

  Uriel raised his arms and focused all of his energy on the barrier. “Lux es tenebris, bono malum superate, Deus vult! Light from darkness, overcome evil with good!” he shouted into the darkness.

  A blinding flash of light shot from Uriel’s chest and engulfed the mansion. The power of his magic drove away the darkness. As the light faded, he found himself standing on a silent rooftop with Michael and his son. The air was still and the silence deafening. Keir’s weapon was gone, destroyed by the power of his father’s magic. He stood in place, swaying slightly in the lingering effects of the powerful light magic. Time seemed to stand still as Uriel walked toward his son. Keir raised his eyes to meet his father’s and Uriel sucked in a sharp breath. Keir’s bright red eyes flickered briefly before the fire within them was extinguished. He looked at his father with one emerald eye and one blue…exactly like those of his twin sister Katia.