Blessed Fury: An Urban Fantasy Romance (Angels of Fate Book 1)

by C. S. Wilde

  Ava shrugged, ignoring her remark. “Sending us to the Order will hardly interfere with whatever cosmic rules you abide by. And if it does, you won’t be able to transport us in the first place, correct?”

  The Powers couldn’t meddle in matters of Earth, Heavens, or Hells. They were allowed to reap souls and present them with the choice, but they weren’t allowed to influence the material plane in any way.

  The Angel of Death blew air through her lips. “I’ll try.”

  Ava walked to Liam and took his hand. His skin was rough but so very warm. She hadn’t noticed it the first time she’d wrapped her fingers around his.

  Liam didn’t oppose their proximity. His green eyes were trapped on hers, silently asking her to lead the way.

  “Concentrate on the Order, dear,” the Angel of Death said. “Also, hold tight.”

  Ava nodded and closed her eyes, ignoring the captivating man by her side.

  She envisioned white marbled halls decorated with golden details and a small sun hanging from the ceiling. Then the floor beneath her vanished, and she fell into a void.

  Her head spun, and she clutched Liam’s hand tighter. Nausea took over just as her feet touched the ground again.

  Heavens, she would never ask the Angel of Death to teleport her again. Ever.

  When Ava opened her eyes, she and Liam were standing in the entrance hall to the Order of Light, close to a revolving door made of gold.

  Ava’s heart was still racing, her mind fuzzy. She swayed left—surely a side effect of teleportation—but before she knew it, strong arms had wrapped around her.

  She looked up and straight into searching eyes that burned her from inside.

  “You all right, princess?” Liam asked.

  Heavens, his chest and arms might as well be made of concrete. Smooth, tempting concrete.

  Ava blinked. “I’m fine, thank you.” She steadied her feet and freed herself from his grip. “You look surprisingly well for your first teleportation.”

  Liam shrugged. “It was like a rollercoaster. I used to love those when I was a kid.”

  As they moved forward, Ava observed the gargantuan entrance hall that resembled a white marbled cathedral, with its domed roof and pointy arches for windows. Golden vines crept from the floor upward, standing out against the white. A golden sphere hung from the ceiling, light swirling inside it like lava in slow motion. A small sun. It drenched the entire place in daylight, even though it was night outside the massive arched windows.

  She never got tired of strolling amidst these walls. Her home, her peace.

  Giant statues of the three Gods were engraved on the wall opposite to the entrance. The God of Knowledge and Logic, father of all Erudites and Virtues, stood with old books in his grip and a kind smile on his old, wrinkled face. The Goddess of Life and Love, mother of all Guardians and Dominions, stood stoically in a flowing dress that seemed to bend stone into fabric. And the God of War and Resilience, father of all Warriors and Archangels, stood with a sword in his hand and pride swelling in his marbled chest.

  Three Gods, three high angels who represented each.

  It had been the Messenger, leader of all Dominions and Guardians, who had assigned Ava to Liam. And it’d been him who had denied aid to Archibald, which was ironic, considering their goddess represented love and life.

  Ava bowed slightly to the Gods. Liam scoffed from behind her, probably because he was angry at them.

  I’ll help restore your faith, she silently promised him.

  Third-tier angels such as Ava crowded the hall. Erudites, followers of the God of Knowledge, paced with books or electronic pads tight on their grips. Their light-gray kilts matched with their light-gray bodysuits, denoting their place in the hierarchy. It was the norm that the color of a lower angel’s bodysuit matched with the color of their kilt.

  Guardians, followers of the Goddess of life and love, walked with the standard white bodysuit that covered almost all of their skin from the neck down, and the same white linen kilts and boots Ava wore—although some females preferred to use high-heels. Ava couldn’t fathom why.

  There were also Warriors, followers of the God of War, walking with black bodysuits and obsidian linen kilts, carrying all kinds of weapons in the belts wrapped across their bodies.

  Ava spotted only one ascended angel across the hall—an Archangel—which was rare given they didn’t spend much time in the lower levels of the Order. Archangels, Virtues, and Dominions occupied the upper floors of the skyscraper, and because they had wings, they could come and go as they pleased, making the entrance hall pointless.

  The Archangel stood near the help desk, waiting for the clerk. His folded, moss-colored wings turned white at the bottom, and contrasted with his full black bodysuit and wine-colored kilt.

  He carried a sheathed sword and a holy gun at his waist—the guns were loaded with blessed bullets to kill vampires or werewolves, the so-called In-Betweens. Holy guns could also kill weaker demons, like the ones at the pub. Or even a lower angel.

  Liam nodded to the Archangel. “I could take on a snobby second-tier in a flash,” he said with a mischievous grin, something inside him eager for a fight.

  The Archangel seemed to hear him, because he turned to Liam and looked down at him as if he were a bug or a worm.

  This was odd. Second-tiers should love humans even more than third-tiers like Ava. They shouldn’t glare at them with contempt. Besides, Liam was a fellow angel; he simply wore a human shell.

  Liam saluted the Archangel mockingly and tapped the sword hanging around his waist. When the Archangel spotted the weapon, fury swirled behind his eyes and his wings spread wide in a predatory manner.

  Ava shook her head at Liam. “I understand you’re experiencing a storm of emotions right now, but looking for a fight won’t solve anything.”

  “It’ll be fun, though.” His attention remained trapped on the approaching Archangel. “One thing is true, princess: when you guys ascend, you become monumental assholes.” This he said point-blank at the incoming Archangel, fully knowing he could hear them.

  Contrary to his own belief, Liam couldn’t take a second-tier. In fact, the bulk of Selfless work consisted of hunting down misbehaving In-Betweens. Facing demons, even weak ones like the Obsessors from the pub, was a rarity. A Selfless couldn’t face a second-tier demon—or angel—and live to tell the tale.

  The Archangel stomped toward them with murder in his eyes. The military branch of angels was prone to brutality, but surely the Archangel wouldn’t harm a fellow child of the Order ... would he?

  Liam licked his lips and rested a hand over his sword, waiting for the right moment to unsheathe it. Ava realized this was heading toward a disaster, and whispered, “You can’t possibly be considering—”

  “If he attacks first, I sure fucking am,” he said through gritted teeth, his attention fixed on the Archangel.

  He was steps away from them now, and just as he started unsheathing his sword, someone stepped between them.

  Ava could only spot majestic blue and green wings, like the sea on a sunny day. The booming voice said to the Archangel, “Sithrael, were you about to attack one of your brothers?”

  “He’s wielding an Archangel’s sword,” Sithrael grunted.

  “And?”

  The Archangel stammered a reply, but no words came out.

  Ava stepped to the side to see a beautiful Archangel with brown eyes and curly hair the color of limes. He emanated peace and calm, which was not a common trait among warrior angels of any tier.

  She knew who he was, of course. A hero who had killed more demons in his days than any other.

  Sithrael bowed his head. “Forgive me, Gabriel.”

  Gabriel laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’re young. You will learn.” He nodded to the end of the room. “Pray for forgiveness to the Gods. Then train for four hours and when you’re done, you shall be responsible for kitchen duties tonight.”

  “B-but …”

 
; Gabriel merely raised one eyebrow at the Archangel, and it was enough. Sithrael turned to Liam and said, “I deeply apologize for my behavior. I ask for your forgiveness.”

  Liam watched him intently, and for a split-second, Ava thought he’d say no. He rolled his eyes and grumbled, “You have it.”

  The Archangel bowed to Liam and left.

  Gabriel turned to them and placed a hand over his heart. “My apologies. They tend to be a little reckless when they’ve recently ascended.” His attention lingered on Liam, his essence overflowing with the love and grace of the Gods. Then he focused on Ava. “I believe we haven’t met. I’m Gabriel.”

  “It’s an honor to meet you,” she said with a shy bow.

  He nodded to her, then to Liam. “I’ve heard of you, of course. How’s the Selfless life, my brother?”

  “I don’t have brothers,” Liam said, his tone colder than a winter’s night.

  Gabriel smiled, then laid a heavy hand on Liam’s shoulder. “You will always be my brother.” With that, he left.

  Liam watched him go with a puzzled expression.

  “Do you know him?” Ava asked.

  He shrugged. “I can’t remember.”

  4

  Ava

  The elevator’s interior was all white marble with creeping silver vines on the corners, almost an exact copy of the hallway.

  Ava pressed the silver button on the panel and said, “Take me to the Messenger’s office.”

  As the elevator went up, she observed the green arrow that appeared on the screen above the doors. An awkward silence filled the space between her and Liam. Surprisingly, he was the one who broke it.

  “So, Erudites are gifted with telepathy and telekinesis, Warriors with strength and speed, and you Guardians only get empathy and weak shields, right?” Liam shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Sounds like a bad deal, princess.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I beg to differ.”

  “Why don’t you all just ascend? Second-tiers have your powers on steroids. And they can heal others, which would’ve come in handy when …” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

  “It’s not that simple,” she said quietly.

  Liam frowned as he studied his boots. “So when you become a Dominion, you’ll be able to heal, create strong shields, and … empathize with others on a ‘deep spiritual level’?” He drew invisible quotes with his fingers.

  “More like pressing emotions onto someone, like love and care—”

  “—pain and despair?”

  Ava bit her bottom lip. “That too, though a Dominion would never do such a despicable thing. No angel would.”

  “First time for everything, princess.” He whistled and glanced around the elevator. “We learned about hierarchies during training, but being here feels strange.”

  “You’ve never been to the Order?”

  “No.” He leaned against the marbled wall of the elevator. “The Selfless are an entire different department. We work in precincts.”

  “Yes, but we’re all angels.”

  He chortled. “Who patrols the streets? Who risks their lives every day?” He shrugged. “And who sits here on their asses doing nothing?”

  Ava gasped. “Excuse me! Angels do a lot of work.” She pointed at him and then herself. “Case in point. Guardians and Dominions help humans with their emotions, from establishing political treaties to helping an overwhelmed stay-at-home mother who feels like she’s drowning.” Ava felt her face flush, but the words kept shooting from her lips. “Erudites and Virtues are busy with research and technological advancements that could be taught to humans. Cars and tablets? You’re welcome!” She crossed her arms. “Archangels and Warriors, even the Selfless, they—”

  “—protect everyone. ‘The Arm of the Order,’ isn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  Liam scratched his chin lightly, as if he were considering her words. “That doesn’t change one simple truth.”

  “Which is?”

  “The Selfless are expendable.”

  “You’re not,” Ava muttered, hating the fact he was right.

  “Don’t get me wrong, princess. I’m fine with sacrificing myself. As humans, if we die we can always come back, whereas you guys are gone for good.” He smirked and didn’t look at her as he said, “It’s just … sometimes it feels like the Gods don’t care about us.”

  “That’s sacrilege.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “For an angel, you’re not very devoted.”

  “I take that as a compliment.” Liam gave her a lopsided grin. “By the way, you don’t look threatening at all when you pout.”

  Ava had no idea she was pouting. She immediately pressed her lips in a line and cleared her throat, trying to ignore the rush of blood that sprang to her cheeks. “That Archangel seemed less than pleased about your sword.” She nodded at the weapon.

  “He’s just sour that a Selfless is using an Archangel’s sword. They think I’m not worthy. Like I said, arrogant bastards, princess.”

  Again that nickname. She let out an exasperated breath but controlled her nerves. For now, at least.

  The elevator doors opened to a long, white marbled corridor lined with frosted glass doors with no doorknobs. Golden plaques attached to each door showed a number. 235, 236, 237 … Ava knew the one she needed.

  “The Order’s budget is certainly a lot higher than ours,” Liam muttered as they went.

  Ava stopped by number 245 and knocked.

  “Enter,” the Messenger’s soothing voice rang from inside.

  They did. The office’s walls were light blue, the marbled floor white. A spherical chandelier, similar to the one from the hall, hung from the ceiling. Fresh night air ventured softly through the open arched window, making the taffeta curtains flutter, but inside the room it was as clear as day.

  The Messenger sat behind a white marbled desk located near the window. Golden cracks snaked across the surface, as if someone had dropped the table then glued it back together with molten gold.

  He signed some papers and didn’t acknowledge Ava or Liam in any way. His light silver wings were coiled behind his back in the way of a hawk balancing on a tree. Under the room’s light, they shimmered softly.

  The Messenger might be centuries old, but he didn’t look a day past thirty. His long silver hair was tied in a low ponytail with a few loose strands framing the sides of his face. When his intense blue eyes met Ava’s, she couldn’t help but skip a breath.

  He gave her a dashing smile as he stood from his chair. The Messenger’s silver bodysuit—a shade or two darker than his hair— hugged him in all the right places. His silk kilt had more intricate patterns than Ava’s, but the color was the same white.

  Soon enough, the Messenger trapped her in a heart-warming hug that felt like a bright sunny morning. His wings wrapped around them, closing him and Ava in a cocoon of feathers.

  “Welcome back,” he said.

  “It’s good to be back, Ezra,” she countered, not knowing where to look—at the drop-dead gorgeous man before her or his glistening feathers.

  He smiled softly. “How’s the mission I gave you?”

  “‘The mission’,” Liam said from outside the cocoon of feathers, “is waiting right here.”

  Ezra’s lips twitched in annoyance, but he let go of Ava. His wings folded behind him once again.

  She turned to Liam, her cheeks feeling overly warm. “This is Liam, the new charge you assigned me.”

  Ezra observed her new partner, his clear blue eyes measuring Liam. His grin, before so wide and warm, shrunk into a dim smirk. “My sympathies for your lost partner.” He put his hands behind his back. “You blame me for his death, do you not?”

  “I do,” Liam said through gritted teeth. “Why didn’t you heal Archie, or at least send a second-tier to help? A Dominion, Archangel, or a Virtue, I really wouldn’t care as long as they saved him.”

  “It was not the Gods’ will,” Ezra said. “Archibald was more val
uable back in the Order.”

  “Well you failed.” His voice broke at the end.

  Ezra frowned at him as if Liam had said something foolish. “Our will is the Gods’ will. If Archibald had something against our decision, then he’s the one to blame for his own fate.”

  Ava feared that her new partner would punch the Messenger, but instead, Liam balled his fists as his chest heaved up and down. Ezra stared back at him with a hint of defiance.

  Two beasts waiting to collide.

  She quickly stepped between them. “This is precisely what we were hoping to discuss with you, Ezra.”

  He raised his hand and shook his head. “Ava, you’re my best Guardian, but even you can’t ask me to intervene. Archibald Brennan made his choice.”

  “Meaning you don’t give a shit,” Liam snapped.

  “I do, more than you can imagine.” Ezra’s words were coated with sorrow. Such decisions must be difficult for a man who had once been a Guardian himself. Ezra cared about all creatures of the Gods unconditionally; it was why he was the Messenger. “We need angels to join the fight against the darkness,” he continued. “To lose a powerful one such as Archibald to the other side is … unfortunate.”

  Liam frowned, perhaps shocked at the Messenger’s sort-of compliment to Archibald.

  Ezra turned to Ava. “The loss of his partner is testing Liam’s faith. You must guide him through this difficult time. It’s imperative that he keeps fighting on the Gods’ behalf.”

  “I’m standing right here, you fuckface,” Liam said. “You can address me directly.”

  Ava gasped. No one had ever called the Messenger a fuckface, but Ezra took no offense in Liam’s words.

  He put a hand on his chest and bowed to Liam. “I apologize for excluding you.”

  Ava smiled at Ezra’s kind gesture. He had once been a Guardian, just like her, then a Dominion, and now, he helped run the Order. He was the kindest, wisest angel she knew—the most powerful too. The glory of the Gods pulsed inside him, and Ava wished that one day she would also stand that close to the Gods.

  “I will guide him,” Ava said. “You have my word, Ezra. I will make you proud.”