The Chronicles of Fire and Ice (The Legend of the Archangel Book 1)

by L. L Hunter

  The Chronicles of

  Fire & Ice

  Book One of

  The Legend of the Archangel

  Series

  L.L. HUNTER

  Copyright © 2014 L.L. Hunter

  The Chronicles of Fire and Ice

  ISBN-13: TBD

  ISBN-10: TBD

  Third Edition

  All Rights Reserved

  Edited and formatted by

  Rogena Mitchell-Jones, Literary Editor

  www.rogenamitchell.com

  Cover Design by

  Regina Wamba of Mae I Design and Photography

  www.maeidesign.com

  This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the properties of the author and your support and respect is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Both author and editor have taken great effort in presenting a manuscript free of errors. However, editing errors are ultimately the responsibility of the author. This author writes in Australian English.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek

  Definitions | Lexicon

  Acknowledgments

  Other Works by L.L. Hunter

  Coming Soon

  L.L. Hunter, Author

  For Paris. . .

  From death comes life.

  Prologue

  He spread his black wings out and wrapped them around her. The touch of his feathers on her skin was silky smooth and their colour was black as midnight but with a rainbow sheen often seen on birds. These feathers reminded her more of an opal the way the moonlight hit them. He brushed his lips against her neck. They were feather light but hungry. She sighed and leaned back into him, leaning her head against his shoulder.

  And then she noticed his eyes and gasped. They seemed dark brown at first, hazel, chocolate even, and then the lighthouse beacon moved over them. She had never before seen so many colours. His irises split into a million different hues, every colour in the spectrum. He spoke, and it startled her. She didn’t know what she was expecting to come out of his mouth, something seductive maybe, but never this.

  “Now, I want you to fly,” he whispered in her ear.

  The words paralysed her.

  He spread his wings and leapt off the cliff they were standing on, carrying her with him.

  That was the moment Scarlett woke up.

  Chapter One

  Destiny

  Just a dream, only a dream, she kept telling herself. Just another dream about the same thing. This was happening more and more often now. Scarlett groaned and rolled over to glance at the orange digits of her iPod dock display: 5.45 a.m. Great, she thought, fifteen minutes before the alarm. She rolled out of bed, and as her bare feet hit the cold floorboards, she winced. Where these dreams were coming from she did not know. She sighed. This was just another day in the life of Scarlett Porter.

  Scarlett flicked on the kitchen light and walked over to the coffee machine. She poured the milk into the frothier, and while she waited for it to foam, she mulled over the events of her dream. Who was the mystery guy with the rainbow eyes? He had black wings. That meant he was bad, right? She shook it off and popped a capsule in the shoot and pushed the on button. She didn’t know what this dark angel wanted with her, but she decided not to let it bother her, even though the dark angel who had been haunting her dreams for the past few months was sexy as hell.

  “Scarlett?” She didn’t hear anyone come in. She was off in her own world. It wasn’t the first time.

  “Are you all right?” Scarlett’s grandmother put her hand on her hip as she stood in the entry to the kitchen and studied her granddaughter. “Have you been having those dreams again?”

  Scarlett knew what her grandmother was like—paranoid. Her mother died when she was born and her father wasn’t around, so she’d been raised by her grandparents. They were sweet and all, but over protective, hence why she didn’t tell them about her dreams.

  “No. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” She put her coffee in a takeaway mug and headed back upstairs to her room.

  “Scarlett, please. I have to know these things. You...”

  “I’m what, Nanna?” She zipped up her suitcase and picked up her backpack and threw it over her shoulder. “I’m going to be late on my first day. Do you really want me to have that kind of reputation?”

  Today she would be starting at Blackbell Academy, an exclusive yet compulsory school for Nephilim. Scarlett was nervous enough as it was, she didn’t need her grandmother freaking her out even more. Her Nanna sighed and moved in to kiss her head.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just that your grandfather and I worry about you going out into the big wide world, finding your wings, and discovering your Trait...”

  “I know, Nanna.” Scarlett was twenty-one and when Nephilim offspring turned twenty-one, they left to go to an Academy. The academies taught young Nephilim how to call out their wings, learn how to fly, and eventually, find and develop their Traits—their unique abilities. Everyone’s Trait was different, but most often than not, they were similar to their parent’s Traits. Since Scarlett didn’t know anything about her parents, any clue as to what her trait might be was a mystery.

  “You worry too much. It’ll give you more grey hairs,” she joked. Scarlett loved her grandparents and would miss them. Her Nanna laughed and hugged her. “Say goodbye to Pop for me.”

  “I will, sweetheart. He was upset he wouldn’t be here to see you off. He couldn’t get away from the factory.”

  “Those Blackbells are relentless, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, but that is why Zachariah and his son are successful businessmen. If you see young Mr Blackbell, don’t get too involved.”

  Scarlett knew Lakyn Blackbell had a bit of a reputation as a womaniser, but he was also a successful entrepreneur, and the face of his very own cigarette company. “Don’t worry, I hate smokers.” He was handsome, yes, but smokers really did turn Scarlett off. He also came across as kind of sleazy on TV, and she really hoped she didn’t cross his path at the Academy.

  Scarlett said her final goodbyes to her grandmother and left for the tram station.

  Blackbell wasn’t your ordinary run of the mill school. It was where you went if you wanted to discover your true self, your true lineage. There is a story that has been passed down from generation to generation. The Chronicle, which states that in the beginning, during the war of The Realms of Fire and Ice, Seraphim
hid on Earth among humans to hide from Lucifer and his followers. But they weren’t hiding, they were preserving their bloodline, because they knew the Seraphim race was slowly dwindling, and Lucifer’s darkness and evil were spreading across the earth. To save themselves, the Seraphim bred with the human race.

  Some people believe that this new race descended from the offspring of the first union of Seraphim and human, called Nephilim. They believe they all hold a little angelic blood in their veins and, therefore, their Traits. Most Traits stay dormant until around the age of twenty-one, because Angel blood is not activated until early adulthood. This is the time to enrol into an Academy.

  Not everyone was pleased with the opening of these Academies. The first one, The Michael Academy, built in 1500 AD in London, England, was burned to the ground in Heavenly Fire shortly after construction was completed. Some say it burned in Hell Fire because the group responsible called themselves The Lucifites, followers of the Morning Star himself.

  There was little mention of the Lucifites in The Chronicle. Since most believed that the group had been destroyed some time in the 1800s, that chapter had probably been removed. But some believed they were still around, spreading the filth of their master across the earth. There were rumours that they even inserted spies into the remaining Academies, posing as Professors, so they could slowly stain the goodness and light of the Michaelites’ work, and turn it into darkness and evil. But they were only rumours, and nothing was confirmed.

  Scarlett smiled to herself as she left the house. Yes, this was the day when her life would change.

  She rode the tram into town just like every other morning, usually on her way to work at The Hidden Tree Book Emporium. The sky was a canvas of reds and oranges and yellows, the same spectrum as her hair. The sun was just beginning to rise. It was her favourite part of the day. She clutched her copy of The Chronicle tighter to her chest and thought about what being at Blackbell would be like—being away from her friends, who weren’t yet ready to come to an Academy. Scarlett had this feeling inside of her that she just couldn’t explain. Was it nerves? One thing was for certain—this was not going to be another ordinary day.

  Today, her tram took her on another route.

  The tram came to a sudden stop, and Scarlett would’ve gone nose first into the seat in front if she hadn’t stopped herself straight away by grabbing onto the handrail. She had always had fast reflexes, hereditary or uncanny, she didn’t know. But hopefully, her destination would tell.

  The Michaelites, the founders of Academies all over the world, were a group of priests, brothers, and nuns who named themselves after Michael the Archangel, defender and safeguard against Lucifer’s taunts.

  Each Academy was named after an important Archangel, like Michael in London, Gabriel in Sydney, and Raphael in Los Angeles. Smaller branches of the academies were named after their founding families, such as the one Scarlett was going to today in Melbourne.

  The name Blackbell wasn’t a very angelic sounding name, but legend had it that the Blackbell family were descendants of Lucifer and that the Michaelites had been trying to get them shut down. The Blackbells denied any connection to Lucifer. Their family crest, a black bell in the centre of two black angel wings, even had a story of its own.

  The Chronicle stated that when an angel falls, their wings turn from gold or white, depending on how high up they were, to silver, and if they were really rebellious or evil, black.

  There was a dark legend connecting the bell to Lucifer: when the bell tolled, the End Days would come and Lucifer would return. Most people believed that the marriage of these two symbols meant pure evil, but Scarlett didn’t believe it. Her own grandmother went to Blackbell, and she didn’t turn out evil…

  Well, that was what she had grown up believing.

  Her grandparents had told her that they were all descended from angels, and that one day, she would go to an Academy to learn how to unlock her full potential. It was her legacy. It was her destiny.

  The tram stopped opposite Federation Square where Scarlett could see the steeple of St Paul’s Cathedral. From what she was told, Blackbell was attached to the cathedral—modern architecture mixed with ancient.

  As she stepped off the tram, she pulled out her iPhone and opened the email of the confirmation letter she’d received. She almost couldn’t resist the urge to pinch herself. She glanced at the Blackbell coat of arms on the email and back at the same symbol that sat above the doorway to the Academy. The building’s exterior was cube-like in shape, and the facade was made entirely of square glass panels. It reminded her of a transparent Rubik’s cube. The other walls were built with dark grey or black stone that Scarlett couldn’t identify. Were the walls painted or was that their natural colour? The roof was yet another story. On top of the structure sat a crystalline glass dome with faceted sides, such that when the sun hit it, each side turned a different colour. There was nothing in Scarlett’s memory about the dome. How could she miss something like this? It was beautiful.

  Chapter Two

  Impression

  Dyston stood on the rooftop. The rain cascaded down his leather jacket, making a heavy sound. He didn’t mind the rain. He shrugged off his jacket and it landed in a heap at his feet. His favourite thing of all to do was to stand out in the rain and let his wings unfurl. The sensation of water running over his feathers, cool and refreshing, was like nothing else. He didn’t understand why his father and brother disliked the rain. After a few minutes, he picked up his jacket, pulled his wings back in, and walked back through the French doors into his bedroom. One of his best Traits was the ability of his body to dry itself almost instantly. He didn’t want to dry—he loved being wet—but today, he had no choice. With a knock, his door opened, and Lakyn stuck his head in, snapping Dyston out of his reverie.

  “Bro, the students… why aren’t you ready?” Lakyn’s eyebrows rose at his brother’s dishevelled appearance. He disapproved. Lakyn was five years older, and the sun seemed to shine out of him—in their father’s opinion, anyway. This annoyed Dyston immensely.

  “I am ready,” he inhaled. Dyston closed his eyes and the glisten on his skin disappeared. His black hair stuck straight up on his head, which he then tried and failed to flatten. His brother chuckled. He always thought his little brother’s talent was so bizarre.

  “Very well, see you down in the dining room. Oh, and be on your best behaviour!” Lakyn told him, before his head disappeared. Dyston was alone again. He sauntered to his piano in the corner of the room, sat down, and began playing.

  As Scarlett pushed through the doors of Blackbell Academy, the first thing she saw was the colour scheme. Everything was black, red, or grey, which didn’t help hush the rumours, she thought. Right of the foyer, there was a wide grand staircase with a black iron railing that twisted around half the room. It was made from black and grey speckled marble with a plush red velvet runner laid down the middle. Scarlett thought it was exquisite. Forcing her gaze away from the stairs, she made her way towards the administration desk to the left of the foyer. The desk itself was high. It came up to Scarlett’s collarbone and was made of the same marble as the stairs. Behind the desk on the back wall was the Blackbell emblem and underneath, four antique gold clocks—each showing the time of a different city around the world: London, Los Angeles, Sydney, and Rome.

  Scarlett set her bags down on the ground. She always carried way more than necessary. She tried to make eye contact with the Nephilim woman sitting behind a desk, who still hadn’t noticed her. She cleared her throat.

  “Hello, I’m Scarlett P…” she began, but the receptionist cut her off. Her dark straight hair was cut in a bob, and her face was emotionless and pale like she had never seen the sun.

  “Scarlett Porter, yes, we have been expecting you,” the receptionist said in a nasally monotone voice as she began typing at her iMac.

  “Am I the last to arrive?” Scarlett tried again.

  “No,” she replied bluntly, offering no expla
nation as to how many students were due to arrive after her. Scarlett wanted to ask the receptionist how she knew her name without checking the files. But before she could say another word, a shadowy figure at the top of the stairs caught her eye. She was about to turn her head away when the shadow began descending. She noticed it was a Nephilim in his late twenties to early thirties, and he had the most striking eyes she had ever seen, even more so than the boy in her dreams. These eyes were the colour of the underside of an iceberg, and as he spoke, his voice chilled her to the bone.

  “Welcome to Blackbell,” he said, reaching the bottom. Looking her over, he added with a smirk, “We hope you’ll feel very comfortable here.”

  “Thanks,” she managed, with a dry mouth. She licked her lips and bent down to gather her bags.

  “Don’t! The maids will do that. That’s their job,” he said. Then he gestured to someone Scarlett couldn’t see. A young Nephilim around the same age as Scarlett stepped out of the shadows and picked up her bags, taking them through a door to the right of the admin desk.

  “So where are the other students?” she asked the mysterious and dark stranger.

  “They’re in the dining hall waiting,” he said.

  “Waiting for what?”

  “Waiting for you, Scarlett,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him. How did he also know her name? She was beginning to freak out a little.

  “But… she said…” she turned to look back at the receptionist, but she was gone.

  “Don’t worry, Estiel doesn’t know the time of day,” he said. Scarlet thought his last remark too harsh, but couldn’t find the time to tell him. They had already arrived.

  “Enjoy,” he said, leaving her.

  “Thanks,” she muttered under her breath, entering the room.