“Are you okay, Father?” I ask.
“Fine. Sore, but fine.”
“Gorsky and Jill.” Trisha points at the other two white warriors. “Take Sister Ruth to the convent.”
Even they approach the nun with caution. One hisses. Each takes a hold of an arm, their wings spread. They fly away with Sister Ruth, her legs kicking at the air.
“What will happen to the baby?” I ask.
Father Timothy looks over at Trisha. “Should we tell him?”
“Sure. He deserves to know.”
“Usually we kill Nephilim before they mature and become a threat to humans.” Father Timothy pauses. “This baby boy is special. His mother is a Daughter of Light, as are the other nuns Azael kidnapped. They are a newly created being by God.”
I don’t like where this is going, Boss says.
My breath goes shallow as I reply, Neither do I.
The priest goes on to say, “It’s the mission of the Sisters of the Divine Heart Convent to protect the Daughter’s of Light as Azael’s perfect mates.”
Leave it to the Catholics to create a whorehouse for fallen angels, Boss says.
Shush, I scold Boss, then say, “I suppose you had a reason for not telling me this earlier.”
“You had no need to know then or now,” Trisha says.
“Only a need to risk my life,” I say.
“It’s most important to understand,” the priest says, “that Sister Ruth’s blood mixed with that of a fallen angel means their son can destroy Azael when he next escapes.”
“How do you know he’ll escape again?”
“Ha.” Trisha steps closer to the black briquette and pokes it with the toe of her white strappy Stiletto. “The real question is, why would he just give up and stay confined?”
She has a point, Boss says.
I reach in and let the baby grasp my pinky finger. “How can this little shit possibly kill his father.”
“No idea yet,” Father Timothy says, “and because he’s a new creation, not even God can predict his actions.”
The infant’s eyes narrow in on my face, and he instantly starts bawling. Either I’m paranoid, or the kid knows Boss and I took his father from him.
Trisha backs away from the fallen angel’s remains, which are now vibrating. “Crap, Azael’s reacting to the cries.” She hands the baby to Father Timothy, then picks up Azael with long red fingernails. Her wings open wide and rise above her shoulders. “It’s time be get Azael back to Blanca Peak to put him back in his prison cell.”
I point at the beautiful white spread. “They grew back?”
“Yeah. They just appeared.” She swings her head and hand around and plucks out a two-inch feather. “I guess it’s a thank you from God for a job well done.”
Figures, Boss says. A demon does the work and an angel gets the credit.
When Trisha frowns, I say, “I know, control my demon.”
“He’s the least of our worries,” she says. “Even though God nullified your kill warrant, Margery’s still lurking outside, and she wants your head.”
My stomach drops. Margery holds a grudge forever. “You can’t stop her?”
“If I could control Margery, there’d be no hellhole in Trinidad. Pray that Satan resumes her mission so she won’t have time to go after you. Or that she’s reassigned to a hellhole halfway around the world.” Trisha hands me the feather. “God is grateful for what you and your demon have done here, and has no intentions of leaving you vulnerable. Carry this feather with you wherever you go. Stroke it three times if you’re in trouble. I’ll be at your side in half a second.”
“Thank you?” I say, uneasy that my future requires angel protection. I put the feather in my pocket, afraid to ask if calling upon her for help means she’s going to want something in return. I also have to ask her, “How am I getting out of here without needing the feather?”
“I’ll drop you at the convent before returning Azael to his prison cell in Blanca Peak.”
A few minutes later, Trisha, Boss and I hover over a flaming red and orange splotch of hair on the tan landscape. Margery’s hopping mad at our escape. I too am irritated. Freed from Satan and snared by an angel.
Told you so. Should have run.
You say for the hundredth time. I sigh.
All Grown Up
Twenty-Two Years Later, Walsenburg, Colorado
My phone chimes, and I’m not surprised to read it’s an ‘Unknown’ caller for the third time today. Someone wants to reach me, but hasn’t been willing to leave a message.
“Why don’t you answer?” Ulla says from where she and Inez are enjoying their afternoon coffee at the dining room table. “Could be Father Timothy.”
“He always leaves a voicemail or shows up in person.” I glance through the archway and into the old Victorian boarding house’s foyer. For over two decades, this home has provided safety from Satan, Margery and all the other evil idiots in Southern Colorado. The two-headed lady moved in with me around the time Boss went dormant five years ago—a tale for another day.
Despite a couple swipes to ignore the call, the chiming continues. “What the hell?” At this point, I suspect something otherworldly is up. “Ladies, I may need you to check my phone for hexes.”
“Hi, Pete,” says a voice through the unanswered phone’s speaker. The harsh New York accent has us all frozen in place. There’s no denying it’s Margery, but it’s been months since our last run-in, a result of freeing a few of her couriers with Trisha.
This can’t be good. My heart races while I contemplate what to say.
“Thought you might like to know,” Margery says. “Barry White Frost just signed one of my soul contract to drive for Satan. He’s now one of my couriers.” After a long cackle, the phone blacks out.
“Shit.” My memory flashes back to the curly haired baby who was born in Trisha’s cave twenty-two years prior. What could have happened? And why would Margery sign the boy? Father Timothy’s been keeping a close eye on him since birth.
“That cun—”
“Inez!” Ulla says. “We don’t use that kind of language.”
“I have to side with Inez on this one,” I say, then pull a tattered white feather out of my pocket and stroke it three times. “Ladies, cancel the phone check and prepare a soul contract antidote.”
Then I’m shocked to hear a voice in my head that’s been absent for too long. And I suppose you’re going to want my help, Boss says.
About the Author
Winnie Jean Howard writes a delightfully dark mix of horror, sci fi, and comedy. She creates action-packed stories for readers looking for books as fast paced as video games. Her stories feature unique and memorable characters that are both outrageous and easy to relate to.
She has watched countless horror movies since the age of six, and has become a bit addicted to any form of media that aims to scare. In her spare time she hangs out with her husband and three cunning beagles while drinking lots of wine.
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@meanwinniejean
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About the Publisher
At Outside the Inkwell (OTI) Press we strive to be an innovative small publishing company. Our goal is to make a difference in an ever-changing industry and to provide state-of-the-art distribution of our publications to readers.
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The Set Up
What's in It for Me
Courting Nuns
A Little Somethin' for Boss
About to Crap Yourself?
Too Late to Turn Back Now
Black Hearts Drop Tarts
All Grown Up
About the Author
About the Publisher
all for Freedom
Fall for Freedom Page 5