by Michael Todd
Max stood belligerently. I’m glad you find this hilarious. You just went silent. Thanks for that.
The demon was still laughing. What could I do? I figured it would be best to hide. This, though? The tumble down the stairs like an old lady? It was fucking priceless. We need to film you.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The night sky sparkled with stars, and the moon was full and bright. Damian had purchased a portable firepit and set it up in the alley near the garage. He dragged a chair around from the courtyard, sat, and tipped his head back to gaze at the heavens. In his lap, his hands gripped the letters from Lucifer and Pandora tightly. It was no secret that Katie had a demon inside her. The whole world knew that, but it wasn’t in their face, so the good deeds she did outweighed the bad.
The information in these letters could be devastating if it were to become public knowledge. For them to know she’d aligned herself—even inadvertently through Pandora’s history—with the very being they blamed for thousands upon thousands of deaths would start a witch-hunt. Knowing it and seeing it firsthand were two completely different things, especially for people who didn’t understand what it was like to be infected. Damian knew that Pandora was not the woman who had once been married to Lucifer. He knew that she had changed—or changed back, whatever the case might be. She had aligned with the right side, and that was what mattered most. She saved lives on a regular basis and made sure to help Katie out of tough situations.
Damian looked at the letters and accepted that he owed Pandora. She had saved his life—or helped Katie do so—on multiple occasions. He couldn’t possibly find it in himself to betray her trust and leave something that delicate out in the world for anyone to find. It was a difficult decision because it meant he kept one person’s trust while betraying that of an entire religious institution. They might never know about it, but he would.
He leaned forward and opened the letters, then read each one again carefully, committing it to memory. They contained nothing that would help anyone defeat the demons in the war. The only thing they could be used for was to slander Pandora, and ultimately Katie. As he held Lucifer’s letter in his hand, he looked at the ink. It shimmered like glitter in the light of the fire. He wondered if it had been written in his own blood imprinted into the skin of a human victim. He read Pandora’s letter one last time and tried to imagine her sitting somewhere on Earth while writing it.
The words held a suggestion of her, but nothing close to what she had become. Instead, it read like a woman who had found her freedom and ran from a relationship that had driven her into the ground. It was a letter that he imagined thousands of women across time had written to a man in their life, women who were strong and valiant and able to break free of the chains of an oppressive man. It was a testament to the strength of her gender, showing that suppression could be broken even between two of the most powerful beings alive…or dead.
Whichever way he looked at the letters, they were incredibly intimate. It was a matter between the two of them, and more than that, Pandora’s legacy. It was something he felt that even he shouldn’t have had the privilege of reading. He knew that if he felt that way, no one else on Earth, above in heaven, or below in hell should have the right to read them either. He hoped that one day if someone found his journal, they would feel the same way and keep it hidden.
Damian sighed and folded each of the letters carefully and meticulously into small squares. He looked at the stars and exhaled a deep breath that puffed out as a small cloud. He knew exactly what he needed to do and groaned as he grabbed the fire poker. The heat washed over him as he stoked the blaze and stared into the dancing flames. He listened to the sing-song crackle of the wood, and small sparks floated toward the sky.
When the fire reached its zenith, he tossed the letters into the grate. He watched as Pandora’s missive curled slowly and the corners caught fire. Flames consumed it until it dissipated among the coals. Lucifer’s letter bathed itself in shimmering blue and red light. It crackled as it unfurled, growing brighter, and finally erupted into ash—just as the demons did when they exorcised them.
Damian nodded, glad he had found the letters. He knew that one day he’d tell Pandora he’d found them, although even Katie wouldn’t hear about it. He figured that after everything they had been through and everything that lay ahead, he owed the demon. She was an unexpected ally in the war of the Damned. Hers was the hand that had helped them win against the tyranny of Moloch and his beasts. If no one else in her entire existence had shown her kindness, he would make sure he did.
He sat once more, smiling to himself for a moment. Ravi cleared her throat. That was a good thing you did.
The priest didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. He grabbed the cardinal’s journal, something he had no intention of setting aflame. He turned to the next page and paused. Oddly, several symbols were scribbled across the top of the pages. The handwriting was erratic, and the sentences seemed sporadic, short bursts instead of his normal paragraph form.
January 13, 1966
A day of reckoning has come to me. The truth does not set me free.
On 3 June 1963, the world saw the death of our dear Pope John XXII. He was a kind man with a good heart. No questions were asked.
Just yesterday at the meeting of the Kings, something no one knows about. Revelations. Oh, so many revelations. Pope John was murdered. His death was at the hands of…oh, Lord, save me. I know the truth.
They are rising, and fast. They will find me if I do not go. I know the secrets. I must get away, but where will I go? They know all and see most.
They will attack the Vatican again, just as with Pope John. They will kill, and blood will flow through the halls of the holiest place on Earth. I must get away.
I must cloak in this darkness and go to the place where the leaves fall twice. There, I will find the answer to my sanctuary. God keep me safe. They are everywhere. The red is coming.
Until next time.
Damian scowled and read the passage over and over. It was written sloppily and almost frantically. He could almost feel the cardinal’s fear through the strokes of his pen, a scary reality and even more so since the passage talked of the death of a Pope at the hand of a demon. The Catholic church had always maintained silence regarding the wars. How could they do that if one of their own had been murdered? There had been no record in anything he had read in the past about an attack on the Vatican.
The priest closed the book and stood, no longer feeling the familiar comfort under the stars. The cardinal had once walked beneath the same ones with fear pulsing through his veins. The man had secrets that only he knew, and it was disconcerting. Damian grabbed the bucket of water beside him and poured it slowly over the flames. Steam rose high, and he stared at the billowing smoke and wondered where the missing man might be at that exact moment. Was he even alive? He had not disappeared before, at least not for a long period of time. Whatever made him run off or had killed him had to be worse than the assassination of a Pope.
Damian glanced at the journal in his hand, tempted to stop reading. He wasn’t even halfway through the first, and things already looked bleaker and bleaker with every entry. The writings now made him privy to secrets that he was not supposed to know, and that put him in grave danger. He was suddenly glad that neither Max or Wally knew anything of the contents and that the mystery would remain unsolved for the foreseeable future. With the number of twists and turns in this man’s life, it would take Damian a long time to find him. Whatever he did, though, he knew he had to keep those journals secret. It was possible that the future of the church and the life of the cardinal hung in the balance.
He shook his head as he headed for the door. This new adventure had become way bigger than he’d imagined. If nothing else, he wouldn’t be bored for a very long time.
The door to the house closed, and Damian locked it behind him. The smoke from the firepit still simmered and billowed upward toward the bright full moon. A few embers
in the grate shimmered red and yellow as the ashes cooled. A cold breeze blew through the alley, shifting the smoke toward the fence on the other side of the walk.
From the shadows, a figure stepped forward and through the puffing smoke. His feet barely touched the ground, and he wore a hooded cloak. As he stepped into the light, he pushed the hood down, revealing his long, flowing silver hair. Beneath his cloak, he wore draperies of gold and white adorned with silver thread. His face was kind, and his ice-blue eyes shimmered brightly.
Gabriel walked serenely to the firepit and removed the once again-fully-intact letters. He read them quickly and glanced at the door through which Damian had just passed, and a smile touched his lips. You have done well, Damian. Your journey will be filled with danger, but you will forever be shrouded by the light of God. May peace find you in your dreams.
The angel tossed the letters into the firepit and watched as they instantly burst into flames once more and fell to dust among the embers. His eyes flashed a brighter blue as he pulled his hood up and disappeared into the shadows.
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
Written November 13, 2018
THANK YOU for not only reading this story but these Author Notes as well .
(I think I’ve been good with always opening with “thank you.” If not, I need to edit the other Author Notes!)
RANDOM (sometimes) THOUGHTS?
So, I’ve been in talks (it feels like negotiations) with the JIT (Just In Time) team about this series.
I feel like the general thought among readers is that Damian (on his own) is not a fun character. He doesn’t have the humor of Pandora and Katie arguing or Ella’s snarkiness going for him.
In short, he is kinda dark and dreary at times.
We worked to liven things up with his sidekick and the lady across the street trying to kill him with pies, but in general, the stories haven’t clicked.
So, we were planning on closing things down until the JIT started asking “where is book 04?”
Well, we have to do a book 04 for closure (we didn’t get that totally right), so we WILL have a book 04.
But, we could use some feedback on what YOU think of the series, and what might have gone right and gone wrong with it.
Love to hear your comments – send them to [email protected], please
HOW TO MARKET FOR BOOKS YOU LOVE
We are able to support our efforts with you reading our books, and we appreciate you doing this!
If you enjoyed this or ANY book by any author, especially Indie-published, we always appreciate if you make the time to review a book, since it lets other readers who might be on the fence to take a chance on it as well.
AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS
One of the interesting (at least to me) aspects of my life is the ability to work from anywhere and at any time. In the future, I hope to re-read my own Author Notes and remember my life as a diary entry.
So (for future Mike) I am sitting in Javier’s (a Mexican food restaurant that is a bit expensive but delicious) inside the Aria Casino - second booth on the right - in the bar working on advertising for our Kurtherian Gambit Series, Dark Messiah series, Mr. Brownstone (Go Oriceran!) Series and the Animus series.
The next Mr. Brownstone comes out Friday, and we just confirmed the second cover for the new Alison Brownstone series (got to get those things done ahead of time if possible!)
Next week is Thanksgiving for those here in the US, so I wish you ALL an excellent and safe week. I will be in Los Angeles with family (two of our sons are joining us as well as my older brother and Mom.)
Wherever you are, and whatever you are doing I hope you have a great week!
FAN PRICING
If you would like to find out what LMBPN is doing and the books we will be publishing, just sign up at http://lmbpn.com/email/. When you sign up, we notify you of books coming out for the week, any new posts of interest in the books and pop culture arena, and the fan pricing on Saturday.
Ad Aeternitatem,
Michael Anderle
Author Notes - Laurie Starkey
October 16, 2018
Hey! Hey! Hey!
I know. Kool-Aid Kooler mixed with Fat Albert, but it makes me smile all the same. How are ya?! Firstly, thank you so much for picking up me and Mike’s book. We are beyond appreciative of you spending your hard-earned dollars on our form of entertainment.
We both hope you loved the book.
These series and spin-offs have been one of the best parts of 2018 in terms of good literary fun. Nothing like creating a world (even a damned one) that you can disappear into and have some adventure with. That’s exactly what Damian has been for me at least.
And Ella is getting her debut later this month or early next month, I believe. Anyone need a punk-ass teenager turned bad-ass fighting machine in their lives?
I do, and Melneck, her trusty internal struggle (demon) has been more fun to work with than I should mention. The series has been a joy altogether.
In other news, we’re up in freezing cold Massachusetts right now. We did a whirlwind tour this last few weeks. Vegas to see Mike and hang out at his 20Booksto50K event, then Jersey to see Tony Robbins and do one of his events with a group of my staff, and now Massachusetts.
I wanted to come see Boston before heading back to Texas for the holidays, but it is raining like crazy and SO COLD. The Freedom Trail might have to keep on being free without me! Ha!
We’re loving life, though. I hope you are, too. Once again, thank you for spending your time with us. We do what we do because of readers like you.
To more stories, because knowing Anderle… there are lots more coming.
Slave to many stories,
Laurie Starkey
Upgrade
Federal Agents of Magic Book 4
Prologue
A Few Years Earlier
“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen,” Damian whispered and made the Sign of the Cross on his chest as he stared at the flickering flames of the candles on the altar in front of him.
They were only partially melted, having been replaced a couple of weeks before. The sanctuary had been there for quite some time but had now become an open place of worship for anyone who wished to come. They could sit in silence, talk to him, or pray to whomever they wished. There were no hard and fast rules. He kept the chapel for his own needs, but anyone else was welcome.
He gripped his cane, struggled slowly to his feet, and winced as the sting filtered down his back and arm.
Calvin laughed from the doorway. “I knew you were getting old. And now look at you, cane and all.”
Damian glanced at him and shook his head. “It sucks to suck right now, but what are you gonna do? Did you finally come to pray?”
Calvin smirked as he walked in and set a box down on the bench. “Not really, although you know I have my own spiritual connection. My grandmother would come down from heaven and whoop me really good if I didn’t.”
“That’s the way to do it—religion by fear.” The priest chuckled. “Although I guess that wouldn’t be anything new.”
“How’re your arm and leg? Those claw marks looked deep,” the other man asked.
He shrugged. “Basically, non-existent on the outside, although my demon seems to have forgotten about the inside. She doesn’t talk very much.”
Calvin sat on the front bench, and Damian sat beside him and looked at the flickering shadow across the walls from the candles that provided the only illumination in the room. Calvin gazed into the distance, and Damian let him go. This was often a place simply for reflection. After a few minutes, the man shook his head and drew a deep breath.
“We’ll have another picture to hang in the Hall of Remembrance,” he said. “We’ll have the whole ceremony and everything. I’m sure Korbin would appreciate it if you were the one to speak or hold it.”
The priest smiled and patted the other man’s leg. “Of course. That’s part of my job, and I fee
l privileged to do so for the fallen. They are heroes, and the world will never really know what they did. Their deaths are chalked up to car accidents, or they’re already pronounced dead by that point. So, we give them the proper farewell.”
Calvin shook his head. “Yeah, but none of us do it for that reason. We appreciate it though. You always have the best words out of most of us. We are usually better with our guns then our speeches. Unless, of course, you’re looking for a before-shot prayer; we all have you covered on that one.”
Damian chuckled again and folded his hands in his lap. “What I would like to see is some sort of religiously neutral reading for these things. Something that really speaks to who we are as mercs. Something signature, you know?”
“That sounds awesome, but I’m not the man to help you with that one. I have never had much artistic talent, although one of the guys in New York’s team might. I heard they’re poets and artists out there.” He laughed.
“They might take it too seriously. I don’t need to get a poets’ night started, with the snapping of the fingers and all.”
Calvin chuckled, slapped his hands on his legs, and groaned as he stood. He walked around and grabbed the box he had brought in and set it on the seat beside Damian. “You got that in the mail. We were all hoping it was a package for one of us but…nope, the priest. Apparently, it’s very fragile.”
They both glanced at the box and the word Fragile written about fifteen times on it in different-colored markers. Calvin raised an eyebrow and headed for the door. “If there is a demon inside, call us. We have your back.”