by Vivian Wood
Dirty Angel
A Sainted Sinners Novel
Vivian Wood
Contents
Dirty Angel
Pronunciation Guide
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
If You Dirty Angel…
Evil Abounds
Historical Notes
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
See No Evil
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
Hear No Evil
The Gates Of Guinee
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Ready For More?
Join The Vixens
About Vivian Wood
Dirty Angel
Pronunciation Guide
This is the story of Kirael and Vesper. Just a quick note about the pronunciation of their names, since I hate when I can’t figure out how a name is supposed to sound!
Vesper — Vess-purr
Kirael — Kier-ay-el
Chapter One
Kirael
Kirael stood on the edge of a rocky outcrop, looking out into a seemingly endless abyss. A few inches from the tips of his toes, the damp ebony rock fell away, and beyond that…
Beyond that was nothing.
Like many of Hell’s more unique landscape features, this one was designed to terrify and torment. Specifically, it was meant to be a slap in the face to souls who, on Earth, were entirely wrapped up in themselves, in their present circumstances: their possessions, their wealth, their beauty.
Some souls, when facing this endlessness, this misty white nothingness, would immediately fall to their knees, realizing the futility of their existence. They would be reduced to nothing but their fear, their loneliness, the emptiness of an eternity in Hell.
It was an effective form of torment, to say the least.
Kirael didn’t feel any of those things when he contemplated The Void, as his fellow Fallen called it.
It made him feel… calm.
The Void was the one place in all of Lucifer’s domain that was truly empty. No suffering, no screaming, no one begging for mercy. No one sought this place out, not even his fellow Fallen, the former angels who’d defected to join Lucifer.
Here, he could simply stand and contemplate his own existence, the many fatal failings that led him to become a highly-ranked general in the labyrinthine hierarchy of Hell.
He ran his fingers through his dark hair, then tugged at the cuffs of his black button-up. High-end custom suits were the usual wardrobe in Hell, though Kirael tended toward a more casual style.
Today, he’d purposefully worn long sleeves to cover the angular blue-black lines that covered his arms and torso. Though they looked like tattoos, the marks were full of magic. Spells and wards and incantations, set into the flesh of each Fallen angel, marking them for all time.
The meaning of the marks was incomprehensible to outsiders, but to angels the particular lines on Kirael’s body screamed one single word: DEATH.
He might be leaving Lucifer’s side after all this time, but Kirael was no stranger to death. Assassin, war monger, spreader of fear and hatred.
Perhaps he’d only followed orders. Perhaps he didn’t agree with most of it. But he’d killed many, their blood marking his hands forever.
He could never hope to be clean again.
Kirael’s wings flared to life, spreading wide with a crisp snap. He could vanish them at will, but he needed them out if he was to dissipate, or magically transport himself between planes. It was much more comfortable to have them at the ready, especially given his task tonight.
Fully extended, his wings were each five feet long. Each was covered in thousands of feathers, white as driven snow.
At the moment of the Great Fall, when Lucifer led the charge of rebel angels, every single one of the newly Fallen experienced an inexpressible, awesome kind of pain. They collapsed to their knees, roaring with agony of it. None of them understanding what they’d brought down on themselves, why they felt as though something essential was being ripped from the lining of their very souls.
When most the Fallen looked up, their wings were slowly turning dark as midnight, the taint of evil spreading until their wings and eyes were black with it. They felt a new kind of freedom, freedom from His rules, freedom from the need to do Good.
Not Kirael, though. His feathers were still the very same pure white as the great expanse of nothingness stretching beyond him. A handful of Fallen were untouched by the change. Strangely, it turned those few into outcasts, distrusted by the rest of the rebel angels.
Perhaps that was one of the reasons he found The Void so comforting, when it made other Fallen shiver with silent, inarticulate discomfort. The white blankness he found there still represented some part of him, a morality that he couldn’t turn away from no matter how hard he tried.
Tonight, staring into all that nothingness, Kirael felt a strange kind of longing. Of missing something, before he’d even lost it. Unless things went terribly wrong, this was the very last time he’d look upon The Void.
Tonight, he was going to defect.
He was going to leave behind the teeming pits of gasping, desperate souls, the craggy pathways that rose mere inches from weltering pits of lava, the vaguely rancid scent of brimstone invading every moment and every breath.
His wings rippled, feathers stirring in the hot, fetid breeze. He reached back and stroked his hand over the arch of his left wing, shivering at the sensation. Wings were sensitive instruments, and right now they were downy-soft and short, to reflect his pensive mood.
His wings seemed to sense Lucifer’s presence before Kirael did. His feathers shifted, elongating and hardening into battle-ready slivers of brilliant iron.
“Lucifer,” he said, turning to find the Prince of Darkness himself approaching.
Lucifer flashed Kirael a knowing grin as he floated up to the cliff’s edge, coming to rest next to Kirael. Tall and handsome, with sandy blond hair and tanned skin, Lucifer eerily resembled a living Ken doll.
The only thing that threw it off was the fact that his wings and eyes were darker than a black hole, even the part of his eyes that should be white was chillingly, e
ndlessly black. His wings were so dark that they seemed to suck at the air around him, to draw in all the light around them.
It fit Lucifer to a T. He was magnetic, with a darkly compelling sort of charm. And when he grinned, as he was grinning now, it was near-impossible not to grin back… even if he was happy because he’d dreamed up a horrifying new form of torment for the many souls under his power.
“Kirael,” Lucifer said in his clipped British accent, looking Kirael up and down. “I can’t say I am surprised to find you here.”
Kirael didn’t respond right away. He felt his hands clench into fists, his jaw tighten, but he simply looked away out into The Void.
“You’re unhappy,” Lucifer said, crossing his arms and folding his wings up tight against his back. “I admit, I’m a little disappointed, Kirael. I felt we addressed this quite thoroughly. What will it take to end this restlessness? An elevated rank, perhaps?”
“A promotion,” Kirael mused. “No, I think not.”
Lucifer was quiet for several beats. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Kirael. I’ve given you everything you could want. You’re one of the most feared and respected Fallen. Your power is practically limitless. Yet you long for something, and I know not what.”
Kirael pushed back a lock of dark hair that lay on his forehead and brushed an invisible speck of something from his dark robes.
“Kirael.” Lucifer’s voice was tinged with impatience.
“You say you don’t understand me,” Kirael said. “Which is amusing, because I think I finally understand you, Lucifer.”
Lucifer arched a brow and folded his muscular arms across his chest, his amusement falling away. “Do enlighten me.”
“Before the Fall, we spoke at length about the coming days, about what our new world would be like,” Kirael said slowly.
“And we forged that world together,” Lucifer said without hesitation.
“Yes, I imagine it would have been nearly impossible without the Angels of Death,” Kirael sighed.
“You hold me responsible for that,” Lucifer said, more a statement than a question.
“No,” Kirael said, shaking his head. “Not in the least. I believed in our cause. I believed that we were righteous.”
“Believed, past tense.”
“Lucifer…” Kirael looked at him, his resolve growing firmer with the momentum of the moment. “You promised justice. You promised that humans would be judged and punished equal to their sins.”
“Look around you, Kirael! That is precisely the nature of my kingdom,” Lucifer said, his voice dropping dangerously low.
“This place is nothing to do with justice. It’s about fear and torment, all to increase the glory and power of… of you,” Kirael replied, trying to keep the simmering fury from his voice.
A muscle flexed in Lucifer’s cheek. “You disagree with it? You, who rained fire and waged war against a great many of the souls here?”
“Before the Fall, I took issue with the way… He treated us, the way He favored the humans, gave them forgiveness for any sin if they merely asked.”
“And now?”
“Now, I realize that you have created a world that is perfectly inverse. Hell is as unjust as Heaven, but without any of the comforts of home,” Kirael said, struggling to keep his expression and voice serene.
“You cannot go home,” Lucifer spat, bright orange flames flickering in the depths of his black eyes. When Kirael did not acknowledge the truth of his words, Lucifer rounded on him. “You really think you will be allowed to return? Kirael, you perfect fool.”
“I think I would rather spend a thousand millennia trying to return to His good graces than another day here, seducing souls into sin.”
Lucifer’s grin returned, and it raised gooseflesh on Kirael’s arms.
“The only thing keeping you alive is my protection,” Lucifer said. “If you leave, you’ll be openly hunted by both sides. You wouldn’t make it a week.”
“That’s my concern, not yours.”
“Who’s to say I will even allow you to leave?”
Kirael slid his gaze back to Lucifer, then shook his head.
“If you force me to stay, I will rebel against you. As persuasive as you were before the Fall, I will be twice that. It is your nature to lash out at your followers. One by one, I will silently turn them. You’d never be able to trust anyone, ever again.”
“So then I should kill you,” Lucifer said, looking speculative.
Kirael’s lips twitched. “You’re welcome to try. If you fail, though… you lose all respect. Your kingdom will unravel. Be very, very certain before you make your attempt.”
Lucifer’s grin turned to a sneer. “You would never prevail.”
“And you would never take the risk. You know well enough the power of each of your deputies. You might not admit it, but I think we’re well-matched.”
Kirael watched Lucifer’s face heat at the challenge, but he didn’t deny Kirael’s words. That was Lucifer’s greatest secret, what he constantly struggled to hide.
In addition to being an egomaniac and the most brutal sort of dictator, Lucifer was a terrible coward. Not to mention vain.
The shame of losing to Kirael would be the end of Lucifer, no matter how likely or unlikely the outcome might be. Kirael knew this well, and the look on Lucifer’s face told Kirael that he’d played his cards perfectly.
Lucifer turned away, fists clenched. “You will regret leaving my side, Kirael.”
“Perhaps,” Kirael admitted. “I cannot go on like this, in any event. There is no true choice to be made.”
“Go, then. If you attempt to return, I will strike you down without thought.”
That much was likely true, Kirael thought. He opened his mouth to reply, then realized he had no idea what to say. Though he’d known Lucifer since the dawn of their existence, Kirael was at a loss for a compelling way to part from him.
Lucifer made it easy for him. Kirael turned away from him, lifting his face up in preparation to dissipate himself to the upper realms.
Faster than Kirael could even process, Lucifer drew his flaming great sword and swooped in, attempting to behead Kirael in a single blow.
Kirael ducked in time, but Lucifer’s sword slid through the top arches of both of Kirael’s wings, severing and searing his flesh. Kirael howled, dropping to his knees.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of flame, Lucifer coming back for a second attempt. He was too slow this time, though.
Kirael managed to beam himself to the human realm, losing consciousness the second he felt the fresh, cool air of Earth on his face.
Then he was in freefall, tumbling down and down…
Chapter Two
Kirael
Ten Days Later
“You won’t find it here,” came a sultry voice.
Kirael opened his eyes, wincing as he turned. He’d knelt on this ice-cold stone altar for hours, genuflecting, and the sudden movement sent a sharp wave of sensation back into his legs.
“Who’s there?” he called.
His voice rang through the crumbling stone monastery, empty except for the vines slowly pushing their way in through the cracks splitting the ceiling and the mice scurrying here and there.
He rose to his feet, squinting through the near-darkness. A single shaft of light spilled from a crack at the far end of the room. The monks who’d carved this temple into the mountainside had lived in complete darkness nearly all their lives.
Those monks were long gone though, so when a woman stepped out of the darkness and into the beam of light, Kirael tensed.
“You should not be here,” he said.
“Nor you,” the woman said, tilting her head to the side. She wore a tall white head scarf, the ivory contrasting with her coffee-colored skin. Her flowing robes rustled as she moved toward Kirael.
She held out a hand, palm up, and conjured a ball of light. The whole room brightened, enough even that Kirael could see the gent
le crow’s feet and laugh lines on her face.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Mere Marie. I work for Le Medcin,” she said.
Le Medcin was sort of an intermediary between Heaven and Hell. To hear his name brought up in this context was… unexpected, to say the least.
Kirael blinked. “You know who I am, then.”
“Of course. It wasn’t easy to track you down, but here we are.”
“I want you to leave. This is a place of worship,” he said.
Mere Marie’s lips twitched. “I think, at the moment, it’s just a place for you to hide.”
Kirael’s jaw tensed. “I’m trying to commune with my God.”
“And he’s not listening,” she said. “He’s not interested, Kirael.”
“And what concern is it of yours?”
“You are not the only Fallen angel to leave Hell.”
Kirael froze, her words shocking him to stillness.
“No?” he asked after a moment.
“Ezra, Lucan!” she cried, her voice thunderous in the small chamber.
Kirael’s jaw dropped as two familiar faces appeared on either side of Mere Marie. Two Fallen he’d thought never to see again, certainly never under anything less than dire circumstances.
Is this a trick? he had to wonder. A trap, perhaps?
“Lucan?” he asked.
The former head of Lucifer’s army gave Kirael a stiff nod, his blond hair shorn short, his clothes oddly modern.
“It’s no trickery,” Ezra said. Kirael glanced over at the dark-haired man, once a close personal friend of Lucifer.
“No?” Kirael asked.
“No. We all Fell as one, with heads full of pretty promises,” Lucan said, his expression dark as a thunderclap. “Ezra and I defected together, after many years of dissatisfaction.”
“Mere Marie has recruited us,” Ezra said.
Kirael was silent for a beat. “For what?”
“To keep the peace,” Mere Marie said. “To keep balance in the human world. Enacting Le Medcin’s orders, for the most part.”