“Yeah, Uncle Joe.” Charity swallowed the sour taste of bile that had risen in her throat. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Three minutes later, she stood before the altar trying not to hyperventilate. The church was nothing like the modest Catholic Church she had grown up worshipping in. This place was oversized and overdone. Even with all of the costly accessories—marble statues, expensive art—strewn throughout the main chapel, the place had a cold, lifeless feel about it. Just the kind of place Troy’s mother would insist her son be married in. All show and no heart.
She shook her head to clear it. If she kept on like this, she’d never make it through the day. Already her head ached. On top of that, she felt dizzy and nauseous. Hell, she was about to marry a man she didn’t love and was unsure why, save the fact that her mother wanted her to.
Behind her, the church was full of two hundred of Troy’s closest family and friends, all murmuring to themselves, no doubt, about how silly her hair looked. They were silent enough as she made her way down the center aisle, but as soon as her uncle had given her away to Troy she heard a number of pointed critiques about her lack of jewelry, her shoes, and yes, someone had even had the bad taste to hypothesize why someone with a butt of that size would wear such a tight-fitting dress. Well, maybe she didn’t dress in designer outfits or wear expensive jewels, and yes, maybe her rear end was on the round side, but all of those things were her business.
How on earth would she make it through the day, she wondered for the hundredth time.
They all thought Troy was marrying beneath himself. His mother—geez, her future mother-in-law—never made any attempt to disguise her contempt for Charity. Once she’d even invited Troy’s ex-girlfriend to her house while Charity was there for dinner. The ensuing meal had been a disaster of epic proportions.
“Charity,” she heard a familiar male voice hiss.
She was pulled from her musings to the present. The priest was staring at her, raising his brows meaningfully.
“Your vows,” Troy said in an angry whisper. “You are embarrassing me.”
Dressed in his own crisply pressed black tuxedo, Troy looked incredibly sexy today. With flawless brown skin that was nearly smoother than her own, Troy could easily have stepped out of the pages of GQ magazine. He wore his hair buzzed close to the scalp and his mustache was perfectly coiffed. He was the best-looking man Charity had ever dated, though right now his good looks were marred by the intense frown he was wearing.
She shook her head clear a second time and attempted to recall her wedding vows. They had opted to write their own. “I’m sorry.” She thought hard. “Oh, yeah. Um, today, Troy, I give more than my heart…” she stopped mid-sentence. “What on earth was that?”
“Thunder,” Troy said. “Let’s finish.”
“I give my heart…” she resumed, but broke off a second time when another boom of thunder shook the church. She twisted around to see if this had disturbed anyone else. A few people were wide-eyed, but for the most part, they stared impatiently back at her. “I give my…I give more than my heart to you. I give you my entire…”
A crack of lightning lit the afternoon sky, and another boom of thunder sounded that was louder than the last. She could feel the church floor shake beneath her. She looked up at Troy, who wasn’t looking quite so smug. He glanced back at the church entrance then up at the stained-glass windows where the sky was lighting up like the Fourth of July.
“What the hell?” he said.
A boom of thunder sounded, and the church rocked.
People were getting to their feet and staring up at the stained glass windows. Outside a deep gale began to build. It was slow at first, nothing more than a high-pitched whistle of wind, but as the seconds ticked by, the wind picked up speed and set off car alarms in the parking lot beside the church. Stray objects were sent careening into the building. Charity couldn’t see them, but she could hear the impact they made as they smashed against the brick exterior. In the streets, horns blew seconds before the noise of squealing tires sounded as drivers slammed on their brakes.
The next roll of thunder had people screaming.
“Hurricane,” Troy’s father called.
“Downstairs, everyone,” the priest ordered.
Troy ran to his mother, father, and three sisters, who were seated in the first row of pews. His father was already on his feet, but the four women sat staring, unsure of what to do. Troy grabbed hold of his mother’s arm and one of his sister’s hands, hauled them to their feet and set off behind the priest without so much as a backwards glance at Charity. Troy’s father already had the remaining girls in hand and was heading behind his son. Then Uncle Joe was there, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her away from the altar. He tried to lead Charity and her mother to the right, towards the basement door, but they were shoved aside by Troy’s more aggressive family, who were making for the basement like hell on wheels.
Thunder cracked above them and set the heavy cross behind the altar to shaking. The beautiful stained-glass windows rattled dangerously as the wind buffeted them, and the rotten smell of sulfur permeated the air. It hung heavily, catching in the back of Charity’s throat. She coughed hard, flinching every time a flash of white light flickered dangerously close to the windows.
She knew something awful was about to happen. She could sense it. Dread had dogged her steps all day, but she had thought it was because of her coming nuptials. Now, she realized it had been something else entirely.
Before Father Jason could reach the basement door, a boom of thunder buckled the floor. Terrazzos erupted from the floor like a spray of volcanic ash. Great clouds of smoke spilled from the empty crevices, setting everyone in the room screaming. The stampede rushed forward for the basement, ignoring the pleas of assistance that came from anyone unfortunate enough to have fallen. The only interest now was self-interest.
Thunder boomed, and with it what Charity had feared would happen finally did. The windows exploded in, and a shower of glass, bits of metal and molding rained down on them. She screened her face from the forceful winds. Anything not secured was being whipped free and sent flying. Papers flapped around the church like birds in flight, and the sacred candles of prayer lay scattered on the floor. Behind the altar, the cross shook. As Charity watched, the heavy pewter cross rocked forward, dragging the nails that secured it to the wall loose.
“Open the door,” someone was demanding.
“It’s locked,” said Father Jason.
“Help us!”
“Down,” Uncle Joe said as he pulled Charity and her mother to a wall opposite the altar. It was far from the basement door, but Charity had to agree that their chances were much better away from Troy’s frantic family and friends. “Crouch against the wall. They’ll stampede us if we stand anywhere near them.”
Charity and her mother did as Uncle Joe suggested, both women clinging to each other and Joe as if to a life preserver. Charity was terrified. If the appearance of an undetected hurricane on her wedding day wasn’t a clear sign from God that she shouldn’t marry Troy, she didn’t know what was.
Another sign, her horrid dress was ruined. She’d had to lift it to her knees in order to run, and had accidentally ripped it in the process.
Her hair was wild. The black ringlets hung lifeless around her waist. But she didn’t care about any of that. All she wanted was to make it through this in one piece.
“Open the door or we’re all gonna die,” a man who sounded a lot like Troy was screeching.
Great clouds of white dust spilled from rapidly widening holes as the nails gave under the weight of the holy cross. One by one, more nails pulled loose. With a loud moan, the cross tore completely free of the wall. The last nails clattered to the floor even as the cross slammed into the altar, crushing it beneath its weight and reducing it and everything on it to bits.
“The devil has come for us,” a woman yelled.
Charity was looking to see who had spoken when the ent
rance doors flew wide. Swirls of wind blew in, knocking anyone still standing in the aisle flat. The heavy oak doors smashed against the wall and splintered into a dozen pieces.
“No!” Charity’s mother screamed. Her features twisted into a horrid mask of fear, she gripped Charity about the wrist and dragged her to her feet. “No!”
Charity spun back to the entrance and nearly fell back in surprise by what she saw. She froze in horror.
A man. A man was entering the church. But it wasn’t a man. Charity knew that as soon as she looked at him. The wind wound round the entrance behind him, rattling the chapel and everything in it. As he came forward, Charity noticed something that set her to trembling. He was smiling. Not an ordinary have-a-nice-day smile, but a smile of pure, unfiltered evil. Chest bared and dense with muscle, he started down the center aisle as though this church was his personal domain. His white pants and knee boots were skintight, hugging every inch of him, and as he strolled in, his long white hair whipped around his face and lit with silver sparks of light. She couldn’t get a good look at his face, but could tell even from a distance that he was huge. Well over six feet tall. And he was coming down the aisle towards them.
“It’s a devil,” Troy’s mother screamed.
In response, the man thrust his hands overhead. Around him, the pews flew into the air. Row after row flew high to the ceiling as he came on, only to crash to the floor behind him, sending splinters of wood flying in every direction. Every crash reverberated through the chapel, making Charity cringe in horror. What kind of being was this that he could control matter without touching it? And what kind of being would arbitrarily cause such destruction within a church?
In the aisles, people were frantically getting to their feet and squeezing into the back of the church.
Charity thought her ex-future-mother-in-law might be right. Maybe he was a devil.
As he came on and people scrambled out of his way, his grin widened. His right hand went up, and any unfortunate unable to move out of his path fast enough was jettisoned into the air and sent flying across the church. Five celebrants were thrust hard into the wall on the right side of the church. Looking like rag dolls dressed in Sunday finery, they slammed into the wall hard enough for the sound to reach Charity. Clothes disheveled and all of them looking as though some angry child had played too roughly with them, they crumpled to the floor in a heap. The horrid sound of bones cracking on impact would haunt Charity forever. And he hadn’t even touched them. He didn’t have to touch them.
She knew she should run, knew she should escape, but where to? The basement was locked, and the man blocked the only other exit. They were trapped.
“Joanne.”
Charity turned to look at her mother. “He said your name.” But her mother was beyond speech. Joanne stood still, staring in horror at the approaching devil. Tears spilled over her cheeks.
“The devil calls Charity’s mother,” someone was saying.
The beast levitated over the crushed altar and fallen cross. When he landed, he glared at Joanne.
Charity took a step back, dragging her mother with her. She wondered how the thing knew her mother’s name.
“Joanne,” he said again. The voice was low, confident. And though his lips didn’t move once, the word filled the sanctuary.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Joanne chanted.
“I’ve come for you, child.”
Suddenly, Uncle Joe was there. He ran forward and stepped in front of them as if he could protect them from such a creature.
“Joe, don’t,” Joanne called. But it was too late. As a man would swat a fly, this thing in white lifted a hand and sent Uncle Joe rocketing into the far left wall. He landed with a thud and lay on the floor, unmoving. Joanne ran to him, throwing herself atop Joe and calling his name in great, mournful wails.
“He’s come for Charity,” someone was saying.
“Well, let him have her.”
That was when Charity realized her peril. He was here for her. The giant had come for her. But why? What had she done?
He advanced on her slowly, and she backpedaled until she found herself standing flush against the wall. She wanted to disappear. He came on, though, leering at her, his smile growing with every step. She wanted to scream, but her throat was constricted with fear. He came forward until not a hair divided them. Fear so complete, so all encompassing it filled every particle of her being, took hold of her.
She stared up into a face that looked human, but clearly was something else. From the well-formed lips pulled back into a smile to the gray eyes drinking her in, he looked like any other man. If she had seen him on the street, she would have thought him handsome. But he wasn’t human, that much was clear. He was a monster.
“Charity,” he said, still grinning. “I have traveled through hell to find you.”
Her lips quivered as she tried unsuccessfully to form words.
He lifted a hand to her, and she shrank further into the wall. When she felt his touch, though, it was like sparks of electricity lighting across her skin. To her surprise, it was gentle.
A current of electric heat swept through her body and settled deep in her loins, awakening parts of her body she’d ignored and suppressed for years.
Her head felt like it was spinning.
“I am not the devil. I’ve come to take you with me. God sent me to you to prevent this.” He flicked a hand out towards the chapel. “You were meant for better things, Charity.”
He gazed down at her, his eyes softening until he looked the picture of love. His smile was gone, replaced with full, pouty lips parted just enough for her to see the pink of his tongue. Had she imagined that horrid grin? Had he looked like this the entire time? Like a beautiful angel fallen from the sky?
“Yes, that’s what I am, Charity, an angel.”
“Don’t listen to him, Charity. He’s a liar.”
Charity glanced at her mother. She was rising from beside Uncle Joe who stared on, open-mouthed.
“No,” he whispered, bending low so he could speak into her ear. “You’ve always known you were meant for something special.” His lips tickled the sensitive flesh of her ear as he spoke. When he passed his tongue lightly over the delicate skin, her breath caught in her throat. “I have wonders to show you Charity. All you have to do is come with me.”
She felt an erotic stirring deep within when he trailed a path down her throat with the tip of his finger. Unbidden, an image of her body crushed beneath his danced across her mind. In it, he moved within her, rocking his hips back and forth in deliciously erotic circles that had her clutching him close to her. The movements were so slow, so good, and she thought she’d lose her mind from the pleasure.
“Yes,” he said. “That and more.”
Joanne appeared beside them, her face contorted in rage. “You devil, get away from my daughter.”
Every remaining window shattered.
Screams rang out as great bands of golden sunlight spilled in through a massive hole that had just erupted in the side of the church. Charity barely had a second to register the sunshine, so soon after a storm, because the white angel was suddenly careening backwards through the air. He landed hard amid the smashed pews and lay still, like a broken doll. One leg curved over the wooden back of a pew while another was twisted at an awkward angle. His mass of white hair was wild on his head, covering his face so completely she couldn’t even see if his eyes were open or shut.
Charity was running forward before she realized what she was doing, her only thought to help him. She’d brushed her mother’s constraining hand away and ignored her pleas for Charity to come back. She was running down the aisle and thanking God when she saw the white angel was moving. Then she saw something that turned her blood to ice. A nightmare creature appeared in the hole and peered in. Thick black hair hung wildly on its head, and it clutched at the side of the wall with blackened nails that looked more like talons. While she watched, too stunned to do anything else, the cre
ature stepped into the opening and leapt forward. She couldn’t tell if it was dressed in black or if the shiny, snake-like covering was its skin. But as it allowed himself to freefall to the floor, its arms held out, she suddenly didn’t care so much about what its skin looked like. A pair of wings unfolded out of its back. They were the deep sable hue of raven’s wings, and as they spread and began to flap, it flew through the church to the fallen angel, who was just struggling to his feet.
Behind her, women cried and men prayed in wavering voices.
Charity watched the horrid creature lower himself before the angel. She couldn’t see its face, but knew the two were enemies when the angel rose to his full height and sneered. As he stood, the angel’s teeth grew to deadly sharp points. His hair lit with electricity, and a gale of wind began to build around him. The black creature took a cautious step back then lifted a hand. The simple action slammed the angel into a wall. Clouds of dust flew in every direction, powdering his white hair, and he let loose with a screech of absolute rage.
The creature lifted another hand that sent the angel tumbling.
Somebody had to help him. Clearly this winged creature was moving against the angel with intent to kill.
The angel lay flat on his back, unmoving, but only for a moment. He got to his feet so fast, Charity found herself taking a step back. He was stalking towards her, his eyes flashing fury in the golden sunlight. She didn’t know why he was looking at her until she felt an arm close around her waist.
She screamed and kicked, knowing at once it couldn’t be the angel holding her, since he was running in her direction. One glance at the shiny, snake-like arm about her was enough to tell her she was in the creature’s grasp. She thanked God she couldn’t feel its touch through her gown. She thought if she had to feel that slimy skin pressed against hers she might die.
As it tightened its hold on her she doubled her efforts to escape. Kicking like a madwoman and screaming for the angel to help her, she realized the creature’s feathery wings had begun to flap.
The Nephilim War: Book One Page 2
