Talin
Zaponsla’s previous partner, now head of Vycanus, Talin, continues in this role today. He oversaw the cleanup of the village and restored the Vycanums’ faith in the Heavenly realm. The Matron and Patron in Book #3 have since passed on and are reincarnating as their own great-grandchildren, in order to continue their work on the island. Heaven’s stronghold on Earth is regaining power, especially with the Aleph’s sigils removed.
The ripples of Vycanus and Heaven winning back control are causing the very power struggles we see almost daily in the news today.
Zaponsla
Zaponsla was in the room when President Harry S. Truman ordered the atomic bombs dropped. She tried to prevent both tragedies but was unable. Feeling guilty, she spent several years drifting over the Pacific Ocean, until Talin convinced her to return to Heaven and help the other Archangels, disorganized now that the Council is gone.
She threw herself into her work, finding that she has quite a talent for Engineering human lives, and currently oversees a team in the Praetorium.
Kaspen
Kaspen has not yet emerged from the Source. Enael inquired after him once in the 1990s, and the Source’s answer was, He will come out when he is ready. When she thinks of him, she feels at peace. He is where he needs to be, and she’s certain that the Source knows best.
Fanush
After almost a century, Fanush feels slightly less grumpy. During her time as an Attendant, she’s re-discovered a love of babies and spends all of her free time helping the Tenders with new souls. She’s still unhappy about having to spend three centuries as a Guardian, but she looks forward to the time when she can declare her desire for green wings.
Jacqueline
The woman Enael Guarded as a Reaper, Jacqueline, recovered well from her trauma. During the end of her rehabilitation in the Comfort Ward, she insisted upon penance helping the Engineers with Incarnation Plans for the women she murdered. All but one were grateful for her help, and she respectfully avoids Mary Jane Kelly whenever she happens across her in the fifth circle.
Once her work with the Engineers was complete, Jacqueline reincarnated in New York as a pathologist. She has many talents, but her favorite activity is conducting autopsies. She’s highly sought after for her expertise in forensic investigations, and most high profile murders in the tri-state area eventually cross across her table.
Asorat and Serinh
Reincarnated as Attendants a couple decades ago, Asorat and Serinh have been spotted together giggling as they come out of the Joy Ward. A special subdivision of Nephilim has been created to keep track of the movements of all former Council members, but so far, there’s not much to report.
All of the restored Council members are much more light-hearted now that the yoke of responsibility has been lifted, and none of them seem interested in becoming entangled in the business of planning Earth’s history. Everyone has taken to their jobs as Attendants, and several haven’t even told their Attendant friends of their previous time as Seraphim.
Parsiel
Parsiel came out of the Source fully grown, stormed into the Praetorium, and demanded that he be brought to whomever was in charge now. A startled Keeper rose from behind the desk to answer him. Before she could write in her Book to summon someone, a beam of light that came from the direction of the Nexus shot through the window. Parsiel burst into droplets and made a puddle on the floor. The Keeper hurriedly called some Tenders to clean him up and hustle him back into the Source.
No one has heard from him since.
Yasva
It’s rumored that Yasva reincarnated as an angel sometime in the mid-1800s and has kept a low profile since. Based on that timing, she would probably be a Guardian at this point. No one has been able to pinpoint who she might be or whom she might be guarding, but a large number of angels believe she’s behind the recent mainstream interest in drag and may be the Guardian of a certain high-profile personage in that industry.
If so, she seems to be channeling her talent in a constructive way because as far as we know, there have been no midnight rituals or nefarious sacrifices in the drag industry.
Enael and Voctic
Enael has been taking her time getting to know Voctic again. Though it was quite shocking to the Engineers at first, Voctic and Enael decided to reincarnate as humans. They proceeded to France in the 1950s, met in the 1970s, and spent most of the next three decades painting and making love.
Sometimes when the pair is sleeping at night, Zaponsla brings Enael and Voctic—who they both insist appear as Chana—to their old spot in the Garden. Although most of the time is spent trying Yasva’s newest makeup tips on one another, Enael has spoken of rallying Heaven into voting on a new Council of Seraphim. She’s concerned about the volatility of things in the Western world, so once this life is over, she’s secretly pledged to the Source to help guide Earth out of its darker times into a more spiritual place.
Rehniah/The Aleph
Rehniah is still at rest in the Source. Sometimes in the Nexus when the Orchestra is pausing to switch songs, if you close your eyes and listen very closely, you can hear otherworldly singing floating down from the clouds above. This started merely five years ago and is the best indication we’ve had that she may be starting to heal from her wounds.
Adolf Hitler
Adolf Hitler cleans toilets in the Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial and Museum. He has a bad back, and he does not get weekends or holidays off.
A collection of SFF stories by Samantha L. Strong
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A demon. A past life bargain. One week to stop a possession. Some mistakes last a lifetime. Others last two.
Scarlet Wakebridge-Rosé, busy executive and less-than-stellar mother and wife, has a problem that only an exorcist can solve. Except she’s not precisely a devout Catholic parishioner any longer, and to gain assistance from the Church means telling a whopping lie of omission.
Fortunately, she discovers Father Angelo Ambrosio, whose commitment to helping the afflicted means he’s willing to overlook the things Scarlet prefers to keep hidden. Unfortunately, his sordid past keeps him under a microscope with the bishop, who’s not so liberal in his views.
But the demon harassing Scarlet is relentless. It makes its motives clear: in a previous life, she struck a bargain, promising it her body on her fiftieth birthday. Now, she and Angelo must unravel the mystery surrounding her forgotten past in order to stop the possession by next week or risk losing her to the depths of Hell forever.
This stand-alone novel set in the Fallen Redemption universe extends the series to modern day. Enter a world where humans reincarnate, demons interfere in daily life, and the currents of fate carry us all to our destinies.
Turn the page for the first chapter!
The Impending Possession of Scarlet Wakebridge-Rosé
Chapter 1
Scarlet would have killed for a glass of merlot.
For the past two months, the presence followed everywhere she went. Standing over her bed in the middle of the night? Yep. Sitting in the passenger seat of her Mercedes while she drove to her office into downtown Toronto? Absolutely. At her side while she ordered a venti half-caff no whipped cream at Starbucks? Always.
Her psychologist had said the pills would make it go away. But a month later, it was still there, watching, waiting, following. Sometimes she even thought it was mocking her for lying to her wife, Eve. Scarlet w
as claiming to be taking a pottery class—the most cliché of excuses ever invented—while sneaking out on Wednesday nights to spend an hour at the therapist’s.
Tonight, she was pointedly ignoring it while working in her office. As usual, she refused to acknowledge it, typing out emails in tight-lipped silence. Everyone who wasn’t avoiding their families had hurried home for the weekend hours ago. Everyone except Scarlet—and the presence.
Heaving a sigh of relief that a long week was finally over, Scarlet shut down her email program and gathered her Louis Vuitton purse from the cabinet. When she turned back to her computer, her email program had re-started, a new email window was open, and words appeared inside:
Guten Tag, mein Schatz. Es ist fast Zeit.
A chill ran through her.
Scarlet swallowed and gripped the mouse. Stilling her trembles, she opened up her internet browser and found an online translator.
It was German: Hello, my treasure. It’s almost time.
She stared at the words, her thoughts whirling, breathing deeply to quell the rising panic. She might have thought the message was a prank if she didn’t know better. But she did know better. As a vice president of the large IT company Halco and Gilkes, with stringent security procedures and a no-nonsense attitude toward her staff, Scarlet Wakebridge-Rosé did not get pranked.
But more than that, she was sure this meant something, and understanding hovered just outside her grasp.
Ever since she was a little girl, she had known three things.
First, she had something incredibly important to do with her life.
Second, she was deathly afraid of being possessed by a demon.
And third, she had vivid nightmares of a dim room, an angry man with cobalt blue eyes, and a demon living inside him. In the dream, the man leered at every inch of her while she stood watching, waiting, anticipating something that never happened.
That was it. The whole dream.
She was terrified by its simplicity, and when she got older, terrified that the dream was her earliest memory. How could a child invent such an intense, yearning gaze?
Neither she—nor her psychologist—had any explanation for those three things. In fact, he’d pronounced her completely sane, admonishing her not to watch television after eight p.m. and to “lay off The X-Files.” The pills were at Scarlet’s insistence. He’d given her a reluctant referral.
The cursor blinked at her in a slow rhythm that matched her breathing. The words did not disappear, nor did the presence.
The pills weren’t working.
The therapist wasn’t working.
She needed to do something different.
She needed to take this seriously.
A couple weeks later, Scarlet was sitting in a pew. She’d found what she needed in a Catholic Church located on the outskirts of the Toronto suburb where she lived. This was the second week she was attending, and she was only now starting to relax.
The presence hovered outside the building. She was relieved and apprehensive at the same time—figments of her imagination did not stop at church doors.
“Lord have mercy,” intoned the priest.
“Lord have mercy,” echoed the congregation.
“Christ have mercy.”
“Christ have mercy.” Scarlet mouthed the words.
Three rows up, a man looked back at her, and then looked back at her again. His eyes were cobalt blue, like the man in her dreams, and it made her all the more apprehensive. He’d been glancing back at her since the service began, and she did not like it. She glared back, clenching her teeth to push aside the fear that churned inside her.
He seemed about forty-something, with skin the bronze that belonged to white men who golfed. Was he staring because she was Black? A woman? Clearly uncomfortable being in church? The tattoo she had of two entwined female symbols was well-hidden below her waistline, so he had no hint as to how much she didn’t belong.
She scratched her forehead, brandishing the silver band on her left ring finger, in the hopes of dissuading any amorous intentions. She waited, unflinching, until he bowed his head and closed those disturbing eyes.
As the Mass ended, a parishioner stood to make announcements. The blue eyes were on Scarlet again, but she refused to meet them. Her heart beat faster.
“… potluck next Saturday. And, as always, Father Angelo welcomes all newcomers and returning guests alike. He’s giving a lecture next month on the exorcisms he performs, and a pamphlet is available near the door.…”
With Mass over and announcements finished, the other parishioners filed from the building, speaking in whispers. Scarlet decided to stay—she wanted to make sure that man left first or, at the very least, didn’t follow her to her car. A woman’s laugh pierced the air and died as the crowd moved into the entryway.
Soon Scarlet was alone except for an altar boy snuffing candles and the blue-eyed man approaching her slowly. She smoothed a hand over imagined wrinkles on her skirt and steeled herself.
Time to meet her human stalker. Don’t out yourself as a lesbian, Scar, or they won’t let you back.
He wore a cheap but tailored button shirt, dark slacks, and a bronze belt buckle with the letters KB engraved upon it. Scarlet’s heels clicked against the floor as she stood. He wasn’t short, but she was still a couple inches taller than he.
The man held out a hand, and she took it.
“My name’s Kelton Buswell.”
“Scarlet Wakebridge-Rosé.” Plenty of hetero women had hyphenated names.
“Please, have a seat.” Kelton gestured and moved into the pew in front of Scarlet. They sat, and a whiff of incense breezed by. “What brings you here?”
She wasn’t about to share her real purpose with this prying stranger. “I’ve decided to attend church once in a while. I fell away from it, and I miss the community.”
“It’s a real nice community we have here, Scarlet.” He gave her an odd look. “You seem nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.” Stop acting nervous!
“We don’t bite. I’m not a demon.” He laughed. “Have you ever witnessed an exorcism?”
Scarlet held her gaze steady and her back straight. “No.”
“You’re aware that Father Angelo is the designated exorcist for this diocese.”
“Yes, I heard.” The words echoed, launching from the walls. Goosebumps prickled, and she rubbed a hand over her arm. “Why?”
“Are you interested in the preternatural?”
Her heart hammered. She’d misjudged his interest, then, but what could he possibly want from her? “These are strange questions for someone who just met me.” Scarlet reached for her purse. This was a mistake.
“I’m sorry. Sometimes I come on strong.” Kelton kept staring at her. It was a technique she used on her subordinates to keep them guessing at what she was thinking. She didn’t like it wielded against her. “You have faith.”
“No, I don’t have faith.” The vaulted ceiling pressed down on her. This was starting to feel like an inquisition.
“Yes, Scarlet. You have faith. That’s why you’re here.”
“I need to get going.” She looped her purse over her shoulder, stood, and started down the aisle.
“Scarlet, you have a gift.”
She had many gifts—the gift of persuasion, of negotiation, of intelligence. She had keen business sense and incredible logic. She defied cultural expectation by being competent while both Black and gay. But he was talking about something else. She stopped. “What kind of gift?”
“I don’t know. I can only tell that you have one.” Kelton took a step forward, and she tipped her head up, refusing to retreat. “God brought you here for a purpose. We have need of someone with your ability.”
What is he talking about? “If you don’t know what ability I have, how do you know you need it?”
Kelton’s eyebrows rose. “Because we have a need and you’re here.”
Who’s on first? “What need is that?”
He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ve said too much already. Father Angelo told me to make you feel welcome. I’m not making you feel welcome, am I?”
Scarlet laughed with the sudden realization of what was happening, and tension eased from her shoulders. The uncomfortable feeling she’d gotten from him wasn’t intimidation but social awkwardness.
Kelton had no clue.
“Father Angelo sent you to talk to me?”
“Yes. He told me to wait, to see if you were really interested in the church. It’s just that—” He stopped.
Scarlet settled back on her heels. “Why is Father Angelo interested in me?”
“Like I said, you have a gift. He has need of another assistant to help with blessings—exorcisms.”
Very little astonished Scarlet into silence, but several heartbeats passed before she answered. “All right. I’m listening.”
“Uh, well.” Kelton gripped his belt buckle. Scarlet kept herself from snorting a laugh. Men. “That’s all, really. You have a gift and we need another assistant.”
Back in control, she nodded crisply. “Let me think on it. Can I see a, um, blessing before I decide?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Kelton stepped forward. “We’ve cut down on the number lately, but I’m sure I can arrange it so that you can see one soon. I’ll go tell Father Angelo right now that you’re interested. Can I get your phone number?”
Somehow she wasn’t surprised that he’d ended up asking for her number. She was surprised that she ended up reaching into her purse and pulling out a business card.
“Thanks,” he said, staring at it like he was memorizing it. “He’ll call you.”
“I look forward to it.” She gave him a strained smile. “See you later.”
Warring Angel Page 32