War of the Damned Boxed Set

by Michael Todd

“Well, it seems that a few thousand years ago there was a large battle, and supposedly the last of my kind were destroyed. Apparently, someone got their history fucked up though because the demons hadn’t killed all of the Nephilim.” Pandora had finally gotten around to filling her in earlier that day.

  “Wow, okay,” Damian replied with wide eyes. He finally understood. “It all comes together now.”

  “I know. Well, at least most of it. I have a lot more to learn.”

  “That you do, my dear, but all in good time.” Damian smiled and stood up. “I am afraid it is time for me to go.”

  “Aw, already?” Katie groaned and got up to her feet.

  “I must, I must. Thank you for letting me store everything here.”

  “Mi casa es su casa.” She smiled.

  Damian put his hand on Katie’s shoulder. “I guess we get to change your call sign to ‘Angel 1’ then, don’t we?”

  Pandora made gagging noises in the background, but Katie ignored her.

  Calvin looked at the two of them, completely lost. He had no idea what a Nephilim was or what it had to do with angels. He figured he would have plenty of time to learn, but none of the references made any sense to him right now.

  Damian turned to Calvin and shook his hand.

  “Don’t let anything happen to our little piece of heaven on earth, okay?” Calvin nodded and Damian picked up his suitcase, and they walked with him to the vehicles. He got into one of the SUVs and started it, waving out the window as he headed down the drive and into the night.

  Calvin turned to Katie and lifted an eyebrow. “Angel?”

  Katie shrugged. “Seems that Pandora thinks that somewhere in my genealogy I might have an angel as an ancestor. She says that explains why she is able to connect with me.”

  It would be just like that sanctimonious windbag up there in heaven to have planned something like this.

  “So,” Katie continued, smirking at Pandora’s remark, “it looks like we get to go on a trip to Israel first. We’ll be back in two months or so.”

  “And how are we expecting to get there?” Calvin glanced at the elevator. “We have a lot of weapons.”

  Katie shrugged. “The general owes me a few favors.”

  Katie stood up on the hill, looking down at Korbin and Stephanie’s house. Stephanie was standing outside in front of an easel painting the landscape.

  She really loved to paint, and for some reason she could never get enough of the beautiful sky out there. Korbin came out of the house and walked quietly up behind her, putting his arms around her waist and kissing her cheek.

  “That’s pretty.” He smiled.

  “Thank you. I like this time of day, and it always seems like no matter how many times I paint it, it’s always so different.”

  “What is that in the corner?”

  “An angel, I think. I don’t know why. The symbol just kind of popped into my mind, so I painted it.”

  “That’s sweet.” Korbin smiled. “I came out to let you know that dinner is almost ready. I made us some steaks and potatoes, and I figured we could eat out on the back porch with a nice bottle of wine.”

  Stephanie turned around in his arms and kissed Korbin’s lips. “That couldn’t be more perfect.”

  “You couldn’t be more perfect.” Korbin smiled.

  Katie watched as Korbin helped Stephane bring her easel and canvas and paints into the house. She just wanted to check in with them to make sure they were okay and didn’t need anything, and to see them before she headed to Israel.

  Leaving them was one of the hardest things for her, but she had to understand they would be fine. They had a life they loved and had always wanted.

  Katie smiled and turned, stopping in her tracks.

  The man in a coat stood there in front of her, his white hair sparkling in the late afternoon light. She tilted her head to the side, not actually recognizing him but feeling as if she had known someone like him all her life. It was a very strange feeling. He smiled kindly.

  “You don’t have to travel to Israel. I’ve come to you.”

  Sonofabitch. That motherfucker, sneaking around in the fucking shadows, not calling out. He could get that white-haired angel smile smacked right off his face. I don’t know why my life is like this. Seriously, I am living in the fucking Twilight Zone. Angels, nice humans… It makes me seriously want to puke. I would if I had my own body.

  The man raised his eyebrows, the smile still on his lips. “I take it Lilith wants to say something?’

  I’ll tell him something, hell yeah. Let me have your body, I’ll tell this beefcake exactly how I feel. He will be in shock and awe that his angel ears are being desecrated by the mighty Lilith. I did not sign up for this. I just wanted a good time. Come to Earth, party it up, meet some men, go wild, but noooo… Here I am with these freaks.

  Katie smirked. “She says hello, and she’s happy to see you again.”

  “My dear,” he chided, chuckling, “you lie just as well as she does.”

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  Written June 14, 2018

  THANK YOU for not only reading this book, but going all the way through to these Author Notes at the end!

  Here we are, with the first book in the second series for the Damned Universe. We are uncovering more of what makes the connection between Katie and Pandora special, and are finally revealing a bit more of the other side.

  You know, the side Pandora isn’t too fond of?

  The scene with the general in the beginning where those who ran the clandestine effort of the Damned around the world wanted Katie to be put into a R&D Lab was the pivotal idea for me. This book —this war really—had to change the dynamics we had in the Protected by the Damned series.

  And yet pay homage to them.

  So, the team has gone their separate ways for now.

  We have Katie/Pandora, Calvin, and Timothy keeping the core of ‘Katie’s Killers’ intact while Eric and Damian spread their wings.

  Will they come back? I don’t know.

  I can tell you that Damian will star in his own series, as well as Ella (from the New York Mercenary group).

  Perhaps you will see Eric again.

  I’m going to leave you with a bit of thought from a gunner from many, many years ago. Perhaps our Earth with the War of the Damned need to hear those booms once again…

  The Glory of the Guns

  When the Battle Cry is spoken,

  And the Voice of War is heard,

  The soldiers of the Allies,

  To battlefields do move.

  The enemy is silent,

  As if waiting for the sun,

  Then they hear that awesome sound,

  The booming of the Guns.

  They shudder in their trenches

  Within a gnawing fear,

  Of knowing the Battery

  Of 1-6-1 is here.

  The shells come whistling all around,

  And wreck and break and knock things down,

  Creating havoc among the lines

  And all that it surrounds.

  The enemy has broken

  In torn and tired dismay,

  Those so inclined

  Get down on knees and pray.

  The Allies are victorious,

  The enemy is on the run,

  Once again they have been beaten

  By the Glory of the Guns.

  - Gunner MR Duncan

  Ad Aeternitatem,

  Michael Anderle

  Author Notes - Laurie Starkey

  Written June 14, 2018

  “It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or demons, heaven or hell.” –Buddha

  Unless you have a demon living inside of you. Good luck with Pandora. I can hear her laughing her sexy ass off now over that quote.

  Hey there! Thanks for stopping by the author notes area of the book. Hope you enjoyed the hell out of it. The wa
lls are down. Hell is spilling over like ice water is free and donuts are warm and being served fresh. (I love a Krispy Kreme so much. There isn’t one near us. Not for 180 miles.)

  Holy shitburgers.

  I just looked it up, and there’s a brand new one right down the street from me. WOOHOO. And that’s the end of my note. Love you guys. Thanks for…

  Kidding. Well, not about the donuts, but about hanging out here a little longer. I’m stupid appreciative for you picking up the book and staying on the next level of this crazy journey with me and Mike. And even if I wanted the donuts, it’s 9 p.m. They’re not serving them hot. Hell, they’re probably closed. Amateurs. We work all night around here!

  For your sake, I digress.

  We have two projects in the World of the Damned that we’re looking to get excited about in the next few months. I feel an excerpt coming on. Feels a little like gas, but it’s not. It’s like this nervous, excited, bubbly (gas. It’s gas.) feeling that you get as an author where you’re like, “Share this new stuff or no? Ask Mike or no? Share—Yes. Ask Mike—No.”

  Good. We agree.

  Excerpt from our project coming in August…

  One Dark Night

  The long tails of Damian’s black trench flapped wildly in the breeze as he leaned against the blacked-out SUV, going through his mental list of preparations. He rubbed his short-trimmed goatee and tipped back his grey wide-brimmed fedora, rubbing his forehead. It was fucking hot in Vegas, the desert heat showing up and showing off.

  A smirk lifted his lips as he thought through all the shit he’d been through as of late. Being a priest of the Anglican variety, there was so much more to him than the eye could see. Behind the suspenders and bow tie, matched perfectly to his dark chinos and dress boots, was a man that had seen a lot of evil over his long life.

  The world had become an even more dangerous place than when he was first infected with the quiet bubbly personality demon that sat comfortably inside of him, holding on to his soul. He had seen these demon infestations rise and rise to the point where the secret they once kept was no longer in the shadows. A Damned was given very few choices when they became infected, though considerably more once the government had gotten involved. So, when picked up by a mercenary leader named Korbin, he chose fighting the demons on Earth instead of research or death.

  Fighting was as fun as fucking, or so he was told.

  He fought hard with his team, watching those he cared about die at the hands of some of the foulest creatures ever to step foot on Earth’s soil. He became a master at exorcisms, a warrior cloaked in God’s path. That lonely road had eventually led him away from the large-scale battles and across the world in a quest to bring lost souls back to the church.

  “Fuck,” Parker, the young Anglican rookie, shouted as he tripped through the doorway, dropping his cross and two books to the floor. “I swear I have the worst luck in the world. I could chant bloody Mary in the mirror three times, and the witch would be on a lunch break.”

  “Language,” Damian sang out, not even looking up, nor smiling at his mouthy apprentice.

  “Language? Yeah, right. You kiss your mother with that mouth of yours?”

  “Do as I say, not as I do. Besides, what type of teacher would I be if I didn’t teach you in God’s way, not my own?”

  “Probably a better one,” Patrick grumbled.

  “Those don’t sound like the words of a priest, Patrick.” Damian tsked.

  “I’m sorry, Father. I’m just a bit nervous. It’s my first exorcism. What if this chick goes all batshit crazy and starts crawling up the walls?”

  “Likely.”

  “Or spits pea soup at us and bends our crosses into arrows?”

  “Possible.”

  “Damian.” Parker gave his mentor a stern look. “You’re not helping much here.”

  “You’re in good hands. I’ve done this about a million times. Come on. Load up. Let’s get this over with. I want to find a nice happy-hour spot afterward for a whiskey.”

  Patrick piled the books and tools into the back seat, curious as to what he was thinking.

  Damien kept his thoughts to himself. The kid was a smart ass, grew up in the streets of Brooklyn, raised by his mother, but mostly the church. He still hadn’t said what drove him to the priesthood, but Damian really didn’t care. His mind was on the demon he was about to exorcise. Priests would come and go. Best to not get too attached to any of them. It never panned out well.

  They got in the SUV and headed out from the local church that had put them up while in town, through the city and out to the outskirts, a no-man’s land. Damian stayed quiet and drove while the kid prayed in the passenger seat. It took everything in Damian not to laugh out loud at Patrick’s prayer.

  “Dear Lord, please keep us safe, help us get rid of the demon, and... and... maybe let me have a beer or two with Father Damian afterward. Forgive me for my cursing, and if I fuck anything up, I’m so, so, so sorry. Amen.”

  I’m not sure cursing in a prayer is allowed. This kid one of your experiments, Priest? Vista, Damian’s demon spoke from inside his head.

  We can’t all be perfectly crafted beings like yourself. He’s nervous.

  He’s a pussy and you know it. He’s going to get eaten alive, but at least we’ll have something to entertain us tonight.

  Vista. Hold your tongue.

  Her next words resounding in his head sounded as if the little turd was in fact holding her tongue. You know what we should totally do after work? We should jet out to the strip, lose the stiff, and party it up tonight.

  You would think after this long together, you would remember that partying isn’t really my style.

  Ugh, she groaned. Whatever. I still kick myself for running straight into your body. Seriously, the whiskey in your hand and that damn hat, I figured you were just some low level undercover party boy. Who knew you were a fucking priest?

  Not a fucking priest. Just a priest. I take my vows seriously.

  Damian had been Damned for a long time, though his demon never really did much other than complain. Her name was Vistrerin, or Vista as Damian called her, a low-level demon that was screwing around with a sorority girl before that body got unceremoniously hit by a car one drunken night. Damian happened to be sitting outside at a bar in Vegas when it happened and was the first one to the girl before she died right there in the street. Vista made a run for it, leaping head first into Damian to keep from being thrust back to hell. Two personalities couldn’t be any more different, but they made the best of it.

  “So, this house is haunted? It’s not a person?” Parker spoke up, the sound of his voice jumping caused Damian to smile.

  “Right.” Damian nodded.

  “Bet it’s a real dump.” Patrick chuckled as they turned into the driveway, staring up at a large Southern Style mansion with a perfectly manicured lawn. “Or not.”

  Idiot, Vista quipped

  “The house was built in the mid-1800s and has been on the market for three years. Apparently, though, the closest anyone can get is taking care of the grass.”

  “Great, a ghost who likes nice grass.” Parker forced a tight laugh.

  Grass like, MJ? Reefer? Mary Juana?

  Hush, Damian whispered in the confines of his head. Behave and we’ll have a couple of glasses of good whisky later tonight.

  Deal.

  Damian parked the car in the driveway, and they got out languidly. Darkened windows stared back at them, the house beautiful, antiquated, but spooky as hell.

  Parker squinted his eyes, staring at the windows on the second floor. “Do they have black curtains in there?”

  Damian cleared his throat, turning around and opening the SUV’s back door. “No, that’s blood... or so they say.”

  Patrick swallowed hard and sighed. “Always with the scary horror movie shit. That is my life.”

  “Embrace it.” Damian pushed a bible and a cross into Patrick’s hand. “It doesn’t have to be a bad one. It c
an be rather fulfilling.”

  “Right. Like an enema without lube.”

  “Please don’t talk anymore.” Damian gave his apprentice a stern stare, eyebrow raised for good measure.

  After grabbing his bible, Damian reached into the deep inner pocket of his trench, making sure he had his cross. He had been using the heavy, special-metal cross since one of the mercenaries, Katie, had given it to him. He doubted he would be pushing it through any demon skulls that night, but he had gotten in the habit of always going to calls prepared for anything.

  “Come on, this one should be educational if nothing else.”

  “I shouldn’t have been making fun of bloody Mary.” Parker glanced up at the sky as if praying.

  Where did you find this cat? Does he think the guy in the clouds controls this bloody chick? How fucking stupid can you get! Vista laughed loudly before snorting. It was one of the only cute attributes she had.

  Damian smiled, leading Patrick up the stone walk and through the pillars on the large front porch. He reached forward, tapping the handle, making sure he didn’t have another instance of a fire demon on his hands. As his fingers touched the handle, the door flew open, and wind whipped around them.

  Parker clasped the bible closer to his chest, taking in a deep breath and putting on a brave face. From the back of the house, a bellowing deep growl echoed loudly. “Welcome, please come in... priests.” Which was followed up by a deep menacing laugh.

  Damian shook his head, no longer phased by the theatrics. He grabbed onto Patrick’s arm, and the two went through into the foyer. The door swung shut, slamming loudly behind them.

  Parker jumped and let out a squeal. “I don’t want to die!”

  “Hush.” Damian looked around the dimly lit room, everything seeming to be in order, but he knew better. Nothing was what it seemed.