Amongst the Fallen

by Devin Lee Carlson

  The being soared above me higher and higher. The Malakhim body started to melt. Its skin peeled away. In its place, rays of white light shot out in every direction. I shielded my eyes and blinked back tears. The charred remains of the Malakhim body dropped at my feet. Burnt sugar wafted from the blackened lump.

  A voice thundered overhead. “I am watching—waiting. Do not disappoint.”

  A rush of scorching heat shot into me. Siphoned my consciousness into near blackness.

  “Wake up,” a soft voice whispered in my ear. “Wake up!” the voice hollered next.

  “What?” I sat up and glanced at the fuel pumps, my eyes blinking away dust and tears. My breath hitched when the Jag and Sabree came into focus. No sign of the boulder fields. I released a heavy sigh. Sabree studied my face, his blank stare minus the blood and bruises. Why was I sprawled out on the asphalt? I accepted his hand up. “Just another bloody dream,” I muttered, dusting off my pants.

  “I found you curled up on the pavement fast asleep. Not the smartest place to nap. Nor the cleanest.” Sabree unwrapped his lollipop. “If you’re able, can we get going?”

  “More than able, it’d be my pleasure.” The sooner the better. My gaze scanned the horizon. No storm anywhere, except for a few dark clouds behind Elden Mountain. As always, the nightmare was just that, a bad dream. I slapped Sabree on the back. “I’ll tell you about my dream later. First, let’s put some distance between us and this rest stop from hell.”

  “Terrific,” Sabree whispered, “entertainment on the road.”

  From the passenger side, he cursed in French. I leaned across the hood and saw him emptying his slushy cup. Pebbles poured from the cup scattering across the asphalt. With each one that bounced, my throat tightened a wee bit more. I shook my head. The boulder world could not exist. A nightmare, nothing more. As I climbed into the driver’s side, a fiery breeze that reeked of sulfur rushed across my face.

  The wind whispered the name Athorsis.

  54

  ONE OF THE UNDEAD

  A riane woke with a start and her eyes shot open. The frigid box she lay in jerked once. Her body tensed as she held her breath. The box shook as it rolled forward. At first, she welcomed the specks of light that offered hope. Then a blast of white light blinded her. Tears streamed down her cheeks from relief more than irritation.

  When she opened her eyes again, her breath caught. Before she could call out his name, Jesse held a finger to his lips.

  Her assistant and dear friend leaned closer. His long single braid fell next to her face. “Shush,” Jesse whispered. “Keep quiet and I will get you out of here.”

  Her eyes questioned him as they darted about.

  “You’re in a morgue.” Jesse gestured the mortician a thumbs-up. “Yes, this is the woman. Good thing I got here before you leapt into the postmortem exam. You would have erased incriminating evidence.” He glanced at Ariane and winked expressively. “Play dead. I have papers to release you in my custody.”

  Now she understood why Brian kept questioning her about Jesse. Who was this man? For now, she didn’t care as long as he was here to rescue her. She blinked once in answer. Trust never an issue, she shut her eyes and relaxed her entire body. While she played dead, the coroner helped Jesse transfer her onto a gurney and into a body bag.

  “I can take it from here.” Jesse grabbed the bag from the coroner’s hands, pulled the zipper halfway, and paused. “Please sign the release form, and I’ll be on my way.”

  Ariane peered through squinty eyes around the room. Definitely a morgue. The last one she visited, she teamed up with Sabree to rescue Brian from Wayde and the DanJal.

  The coroner yelped. “She’s alive!”

  Jesse uttered a curse.

  No longer any need to play dead, she sat upright and stared at the cowboy boots and jeans the man wore under the white coat. Behind a pair of safety goggles, his blue eyes grew wide. Relax. Breathe. Ariane asked again, “Where am I?

  “Skagit County Coroner,” the man said. A hint of red brightened his cheeks when he glanced at her breasts.

  “Can someone get me something to wear?”

  “I can explain,” Jesse said to the coroner. His brow creased when he handed her a small bag. “Game over, but as backup, I brought you a sweater and jeans.” As he turned, he tossed the release papers into the nearest trash can. “Won’t need these anymore.” Then Jesse grabbed the coroner by the shoulder. “Let’s give the lady some privacy. As you can see, she’s not dead.”

  “Sorry, Jesse, my bad.” Ariane wiggled into her jeans and sat up to pull on the sweater. Memories bombarded her all at once until one in particular slapped her in the face. She glanced around the room again. “Where’s Abyss? That she-devil tried to kill me.” She sensed Jesse’s frustration when he kicked the wheel of her gurney and moaned.

  “Whoa, ma’am.” The coroner coughed into his sleeve. “Someone tried to kill you? It looked like an animal attacked you.”

  Animal indeed. “Yes. No. Obviously, she didn’t succeed.” Ariane pouted at Jesse, certain she ruined his means of escape. “Where’s Brian?”

  “Brian Colton?” the coroner interrupted. “The police have been trying to reach him. They found his charge card near your body. We were hoping he could identify you.”

  “Of course, he can. I’m his twin sister.” She shot a glance at the other tables. Another whirlwind of memories replayed through her mind: Brian and Eric climbing Joker Mountain, herself kissing Sabree, the helicopters flying overhead, and the exploding crash. Did Sabree survive? The memories faded, except for Abyss’s deadly glare. Ariane’s shoulders slumped forward as tears burst forth. Between sobs, she said, “My name is Ariane Rose Colton.” Crying usually made a person appear more vulnerable. Less dangerous.

  While Jesse rubbed her shoulder, the coroner stepped closer. The smell of his blood shot her eyeteeth into her lower lip. She almost drooled. Hunger gnawed on the emptiness that replaced the superhuman high she had felt after drinking Sabree’s blood. “I’m hungry. Do you have anything sweet?”

  “I’ll fetch you some water,” the coroner said as he shuffled to the refrigerator unit.

  “Sweet!” she and Jesse yelled together.

  He pulled out a blue bottle and held it to her face. “Energy drinks are packed full of sugar.” A goofy smile spread across his face. “The name’s Pete Sanders.” He leaned in to study her neck. “How is it you’re alive? You had no pulse, no breaths. Last night when they brought you in, your neck was a mess.” Sanders sucked in a much-needed breath. “My God, it’s almost healed.” His eyes formed saucers.

  “Maybe you’d better fetch one of those drinks for yourself and take a seat,” Jesse said. “I can explain.” He looked cross-eyed at Ariane as if to say she messed things up big time.

  “I can fix this,” Ariane said softly. The sweet liquid eased her insatiable appetite. She would have to weave a tale believable enough to satisfy the coroner and local authorities. Abyss had ripped her neck apart to near death, but according to Sabree, the Fallen could not die from such wounds. For once, his boast rang true. Her mind reeled until a plausible story stood out. “Before I tell you, you must swear to an oath of secrecy.”

  His eyes widened.

  “Top secret,” Jesse said to add his part and then shook his head. “This had better be good.”

  Squeezing the bottle, Ariane nodded in agreement. “A pharmaceutical company I work for perfected a drug that mimics death. We can rescue people held hostage or falsely imprisoned. Its applications are endless.”

  Jesse slapped the coroner on the back. “Well, that was a load of crap. Do you believe her?”

  A smile lit Sanders’s face. “Whew. For a moment, I thought you were going to tell me that you rose from the dead.”

  “Do I look like one of the undead? A zombie?”

  “No, ma’am,” Sanders said. “But your neck? Something or someone tore it open. Your trachea was exposed when they brought you in. Now, I can barely
see the scar.”

  “My point exactly,” Jesse said when the coroner shook his head. Jesse shot her a nasty glare. “You’ve done enough damage. My turn.” The gurney rolled as she tried to stand, but Jesse urged her back. He motioned the coroner to come closer. “Sanders, I need you to do one more thing for me.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  A quick glance her way, Jesse mouthed, “Stay.” He put an arm around Sanders and led him over to the desk. “Have a seat. After we leave, you’ll wake up in a daze. You may or may not remember the details of our visit. I’d be careful what you say. Too much information might make you look the fool.”

  “Wake up?”

  In answer, Jesse eased a hypo into the man’s forearm. “Sweet dreams,” he said as Sanders slumped back onto his computer chair.

  “What did you do?” Ariane asked. Her voice rose an octave. “Did you kill him?”

  “Of course not. Something to keep him asleep for a few hours. Jeez, let’s get out of here before you screw things up even more.” He grabbed her bag and helped her to the exit. “Thanks for the help, Sanders.” Jesse chuckled.

  “What about him?” She waved a trembling hand at the coroner. “Doesn’t he know too much?” Granted, Jesse had deemed it time to take control, but things were moving a bit too fast for her. “Won’t he mouth off about us?”

  “Nah, the cleanup crew will take care of the mess—your mess.”

  Who are you, Jesse Rivers? Ariane planned to find out. She’d recruit her brother if need be. Maybe even Sabree. Whatever it took.

  Ariane stole a final glimpse of the coroner. His grin from the effects of the induced twilight dream reminded her of the innocence she had lost the day she stopped taking the anti-vamp serum. Brian stopped months ago, surrendering to his Fallen side. Unlike him, she dreaded the thought of becoming a member of what she considered the dark side, becoming the monster. An idea of how to hold on to her humanity, if plausible, had come to her in one of her recovery dreams. But first, she needed rest before she faced her brother.

  The end

  Read on for a sneak peak of Book Two,

  AGAINST THE FALLEN

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Devin Lee Carlson is the pseudonym for coauthors Debra DeCosta and Laurie Allen, who have been writing together for over twenty years.

  Debbie lives in Western North Carolina where she writes and works part-time as a freelance copyeditor. Once upon a time, she earned a Bachelor’s in Chemistry and held jobs at Pfizer, Inc. as scientist, technical writer, and editor for the company’s online Knowledge Base. She belongs to a critique group. Hobbies include working on polymer clay, hiking, and catering to her dog, Eli.

  Laurie resides in sunny Florida where she enjoys writing. A Bachelor’s in English comes in handy and her long career as a Technical Illustrator pays the bills. Formerly secretary for the Emerald Coast Writers from 2009 to 2012, she now runs a critique group and volunteers as a chairperson of the Crestview Writers Group.

  Debbie and Laurie prefer to write fiction, especially urban fantasy, paranormal, and fantasy.

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  AGAINST THE FALLEN

  Book Two, Part 1

  1

  HOLD YOUR HORSES

  T he scavenger hunt a bust, loved ones missing, and the journal anything but the prize ended up as worthless goals wasted on lost time. Six months wasted. Promises of the truth, all lies. Promises of a cure, more lies. While holed up in Kayenta, I indulged in a little solitude to reflect on the whirlwind of my short life—the fourth year a complete washout. If only I could repeat the year with the knowledge I’ve gained.

  For now, I shrugged the past aside and braced myself against the aftermath of recent events like the time warp into Boulderville. The nightmare, hallucination, or whatever, still had me spooked. Like most dreams, especially mine, this one slithered to the outer realms of my subconscious, only with the promise to revisit sooner than later. No place to hide, destiny hunted me down.

  Luckily, I could escape the confines of the small ranch. Dodge Sabree’s tedious cross-examination: what’s next, when do we rescue Ariane, where will we live, will she be able to clone our blood, and what should we do about Eric? So on and so on. I desperately craved some alone time.

  Dressed in a Navajo-print shirt, tattered jeans, and hiking boots, I borrowed one of Jesse’s suede cowboy hats to shade my head from the sun. My hair pulled back into a short tail, I might have fit in as a Native American if not for the pale face. I stepped outside and hesitated. At first glance, the late morning sun verged on noon. Its brilliance burned through the shirt into my skin. Not the smartest time to venture outside, I pushed the sunglasses up the bridge of my nose.

  Across the slopes and valleys, sporadic brush dotted the red sand, radiating a warm glow. This serene backdrop belonged to Jesse’s grandfather, who resided on the outskirts of Kayenta, the small Navajo town located twenty miles south of the Utah state line.

  Hands tucked inside my jean pockets, I strolled toward the barn. A dry breeze caressed my face. Above, a hawk glided on the air currents. Strangely enough, my thoughts fell on my sister. Although Jesse promised to protect her, regret gnawed on my conscience. I should’ve made an attempt to ensure she was okay; however, Ariane claimed she needed time to reflect, time away. Jesse respected her wishes, and even after I pleaded, he still refused to disclose her safe house. No wonder she trusted him more than anyone else. Even me.

  This being true, she promised to join us here. Her humanity more deep-rooted would leave her brokenhearted when she found out I destroyed the journal. She’d lose the only hope that linked her to humankind. The lack of vital information in the journal, except for a wee bit of history, would increase her disappointment.

  In the section marked, Twins, Duncan jotted down a few notes. Undeniably, the man was never our father, and Serine of the DanJal acted as his liaison. Born four years ago, our short childhood filled one short entry. How we stopped maturing when we reached the end-point age equivalent to the early twenties, typical of the Fallen. No wonder I behaved so childlike, even though they downloaded eighteen years-worth of education into my mind. Twenty-five years for my sister. Technically, I was a messed-up teen. As Sabree so often stated, wisdom came with age, a millennia of life experiences. But what happened to the knowledge we were supposed to inherit from our real father?

  Turian claimed to be the real deal, yet, blessed me with nightmarish legacies of the portal and time travel. Thanks Pop. The rest stop from hell topped the list as bizarre. A chill crept through my limbs as if pumped full of liquid nitrogen. Anytime Sabree mentioned the rest stop, I cut him off, refusing to discuss it. This particular nightmare disturbed me more than the others. When a mysterious force knocked me into an alternate dimension, Sabree tagged along for the wild ride. Time crawled at the rest stop, the episode too surreal.

  “Damn it.” My boot dislodged a stone in the path. Like the scattered pebbles, boulder upon boulder rolled into my mind replaced by nothingness except for a lone flame. The vision faded the moment the flame extinguished. Mystified, I kicked a few pebbles aside and meandered along the foot-worn path leading to the barn large enough to house a few livestock.

  Halfway there, my gaze shot back at the ranch to make sure Sabree stayed inside. Nothing stirred except for the large hawk perched atop the roof. I chuckled at the visual. The oversized bird made the house look like a wee shack. From under its talons, chunks of clay tiles littered the ground. A few more pieces sprinkled down the roof when the bird took flight. It sailed overhead and disappeared beyond the barn.

  My ears followed the hawk’s screech as I paused in front of the barn. My hand slid one door open with care, expecting the tattered boards to unh
inge at the slightest jiggle. I removed my sunglasses, stepped inside, and came to an abrupt stop. A dark chestnut mare greeted me with a whinny. Jesse never mentioned any livestock other than chickens. This animal was certainly handsome enough. Who wouldn’t boast?

  “Easy girl.” I took one step at a time with my palm outstretched and spoke in whispers. “There, there girl. You’re a beauty.” The barn revealed little evidence of ever boarding horses. Instead of the typical earthy whiff of hay, oats, and fresh-cut shavings, mustiness hung thick in the air. I shrugged when my eyes spotted a cobweb-infested bridle someone had hung by the door. No saddle though.

  “Don’t think Jesse will mind if we go for a ride.” I dusted off the bridle with the tail of my shirt and eased it over the horse’s muzzle. The gentle mare whinnied, its muscular neck rippling. “Good girl…” Too bad I didn’t pocket a few sugar cubes. My shoulders stiffened when the door creaked behind me.

  “Going for a ride?” Sabree asked. “What a fine animal. Is she Jesse’s?” He lowered his sunglasses and nodded in appreciation of the mustang.

  “No, it belongs to Joe Blow down the street.”

  “Your attitude’s uncalled for.”

  “Call it feeling sorry for myself. You of all people should understand.”

  Sabree folded his arms across his chest. “You should respect the Fallen, especially after discovering the truth about your heritage, something we discussed on the long drive here.” He cocked his head. “What’s this? She winked at me.”

  “Aye, right.” I swept the mane from her forehead. The horse stared at us, and for a second, those large topaz eyes blinked compassion. I shook the oddity aside when Sabree poked my arm.

  “C'est la vie, so you lost a few friends, your Earthly heritage, and your distinguished reputation. In truth, it’s impossible to lose what you’ve never had to begin with.”