Angels of War (Angels of War Trilogy Book 1)

by Andre Roberts

  General Temeculus wrapped a hand around Black Angel’s slender waist and gazed into her red eyes. “Stick with me through this, and you will be Hell’s new queen.”

  30

  Colonel Frank Andrews, a full bird colonel and Camp Pendleton’s newest commander, stood at his office window as his Marines evacuated the base. The sight saddened him. In his thirty years in service to his country he never experienced such hopelessness.

  A strong loss washed over him after he opened the red folder sealed with red melted wax, stamped with the presidential emblem. When he read the words on the top-secret document his heart broke. He dismissed his entire office staff, placed a call to his commanders, and gave the order to reposition. Within minutes Camp Pendleton exploded with activity.

  Frank Andrews prepared himself after General Wells’s defeat in Los Angeles. He ordered a red alert, reinforced the camp’s perimeter, and focused on a final defense. He ordered everyone from cooks to clerks to draw weapons and prepare themselves for battle.

  After he read his orders for the evacuation to Denver, anger pumped into his veins. He blinked his eyes, cleared his thoughts and regarded the paper on his desk as if the item resembled a venomous spider. He stared out the window. Hummers, Harrier jets, and helicopters moved everywhere. The first convoy left the night before, followed by convoys every five hours. He waited to join the last convoy and say goodbye to an old friend, unsure whether they would meet again.

  A young Marine arrived to the office and gathered the colonel’s last packed box. “Sir, your vehicle is waiting downstairs.”

  “I’ll be down soon, son.” The Marine saluted and carried the box away.

  Frank straightened his gray-green camouflage uniform and placed his hand on his holstered fifty-caliber handgun. He gave his empty office a hard visual sweep, performed a crisp turn, and headed down the stairs to join his troops.

  Gunnery Sergeant Tobias Green ordered his men to pack and ready their vehicles for departure. He inspected his Marine platoon dressed for combat. He pulled on their gear and scrutinized their weapons. He shook canteens filled with water and pressed the water bladders strapped to their backs. They carried M4 assault rifles equipped with the Advanced Combat Optical Gunsight. After he inspected the platoon, he ordered them to board their Hummers.

  Tobias turned toward the northern horizon where L.A. spires once commanded the view. Shame assaulted him after the general retreat crackled over his secured radio. He did not want to abandon fellow Marines in the field to die. Hot anger coupled with infantile helplessness wrecked havoc with his pride and sense of honor.

  He checked his weapon as his platoon mounted their Hummers equipped with fifty-caliber machine guns mounted in crow’s nests.

  The sergeant climbed aboard his lead Hummer. Their mission involved rear protection for the convoy. An M1A1 tank platoon pulled up behind the mounted Marines. The tanks rumbling turbine engines and the sweet multipurpose fuel caused his adrenalin to pump. He leaned back in his seat as a commotion occurred further up the line. He figured Colonel Andrews mounted his vehicle and ordered the Marines to move out.

  He pulled back the charging handle on his weapon and released the grip. The action caused a round to chamber with a smooth metallic clack. The convoy began to roll ahead. Despite his somber mood, hope fluttered in his heart with delicate wings.

  Tobias remembered the Los Angeles battle and the soft voice in his head. The voice told him to wake up. When he didn’t respond the voice sighed and shouted for the angel to break through his mortal sleepwalk. This shout staggered Tobias as he stood on the ready line for deployment into battle. At first, he thought his mind cracked under the extreme stress as gunfire and explosions echoed throughout Los Angeles. The voice came to him again, frustrated, and pronounced a name in his head in slow careful words.

  Juggernaut.

  Sergeant Green narrowed his eyes. He searched his mind for the definition. He thought he understood the word: Big and strong, or with an aggressive force. When young he always considered himself different from the other children. A desire to protect hung about him with a fierceness he found overpowering.

  He fought the bullies in school and protected those who choose not to fight back. This personality came with uncanny ease. He joined the Marines despite his foster parent’s rants for him to find a safer career.

  As he waited on the line for the fight, the inner voice continued to prod at his mind. The voice belonged to a female, and he learned her name. Joan. She told him his name again, coaxing him forward from his mortal sluggishness like an ambivalent tiger. Juggernaut, she called out, her voice gentle in his mind. Wake up.

  After the battle, hopelessness assaulted him. Perched on his bunk in his room he cried in anger. The old angelic power infused his soul. He lifted his head. His brown hair, cut in a crew grew long, falling over his broad shoulders.

  Power poured into him. Strength long locked up returned to his body. Silver armor covered his torso and large wings graced his wide back. The wings and armor almost made him pass out in shock. The thought floored him at first, its utter reality and audacity. Yet, he believed in God. Why would he think such creatures not real, him being an angel from Heaven?

  He wondered why this secret remained hidden as his friends fought and died in Los Angeles. Joan though, told him not to attack on his own.

  Heavy guilt weighted him down and he ached to remove the burden from his soul. The convoy passed by brick military buildings and metal Quonset huts. The tankers revved up the turbines and their power shook the ground. The convoy exited Camp Pendleton’s back gate within minutes and headed east.

  Tobias Green, the angel Juggernaut, recalled those hard memories as he sat in his Hummer’s passenger seat. He wiped away a tear and said a silent prayer for his fallen brothers in arms.

  Tobias Green glanced at the weapon he held with strong vascular hands. Joan ordered him to protect the colonel and insure his safe travel to Denver. They needed Colonel Andrews alive for the battle. The angel nodded in silence as he kept a wary eye out for the enemy.

  31

  General Temeculus bared his hideous teeth as he focused on the city beneath his gaze. The small strike force led by Wrath sped away in military vehicles stolen from a local base. The general looked north. His black clad troops assembled to attack San Francisco. He wanted the bay area also, not as much as he wanted Los Angeles and Denver. For the moment, he needed numbers for the battle in Denver.

  “Lord Goth.”

  Lord Goth arrived from the shadows, fell to one knee, and bowed his head. “My lord?”

  General Temeculus approached his hideous headed herald. “I want San Francisco, Goth. On your journey north, recruit more souls for our true father’s army. Those who refuse, crucify them along the highway as a message to those thinking about trying to defy us.”

  Lord Goth lifted his bovine head with horns caked in dried blood. His black eyes glittered. “I will fulfill your orders.”

  “Take only humans, Goth. I need to make them stronger. I need for them to love the blood they spill,” he said. “I want them to hate, they must earn the third six upon their pitiful foreheads. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  General Temeculus pointed a claw-nailed finger over the city. “Go.”

  Lord Goth rose to his feet, ran and leaped from the balcony. His black wings spread out from his back as he swooped low to the streets.

  Temeculus wanted Joan to scramble in all directions. Joan fought hard in battle, she also proved to be a powerful tactician. He did not concern himself too much with the American president. Wallace followed Joan’s orders like a child eager to please a parent.

  What other choice did the invasion leave him? The attack on Los Angeles exploded upon the earth and initiated horrors Wallace read about in a book created to maintain power over the mindless masses. The mortals did not expect such an attack. Bombs, bullets, jets, all wasted on beings from Hell, beings who died centuries ago
. Temeculus reckoned Raymond’s mind incapable of fathoming the terror he faced.

  Never would Wallace understand the long complex history behind the attack. Past hatreds needed to be satisfied, revenge waited in the wings like an impatient whore.

  Neither did the president realize Joan hid a nasty old secret. The Battle of Seven Gates began with her. She and she alone performed one act, one act others suffered for. Satan lost his sanity due to the billions killed by the floods. He coerced the angels to split alliances down the middle.

  God protected her. Joan escaped death, but their families suffered a permanent punishment. God did not send their loved ones to Heaven, but dispersed their souls into Oblivion. A cold, dark place, an existence Satan even feared. God needed someone to guard the back gate after the battle. Joan took the hint and escaped the poisonous whispers and her shame.

  She accepted the job to defend the gate for all eternity, and cooled the many tempers in Heaven. Her semi banishment averted another war.

  The fools across the planet did not understand. God created this particular gate before man ever set a toe upon the planet earth, before any mortal breathed the sweet air. Blind dumb luck placed the United States over the gate.

  Temeculus leaped upwards and through walls made from crushed bone until he landed in a small room, dark and more crowded by his even darker presence. The cell seemed filled with a power held under control by a lock time kept secure.

  “Are you awake?”

  The Key stirred from the floor and sat up. She placed her back against the cold bone wall and remained hidden in the shadows. Her eyes glowed with a low white light. She settled her wary gaze upon the general. “I’m more awake than you are, Temeculus.”

  The general squatted and produced an inimical grin packed with vicious teeth. “Always words.” The general slid his serpent tongue over his lips. “I’m going to kill you when this war is over, and hang your body from the pentagram of this cathedral.”

  The Key held her gaze. “We will see about that, Temeculus, pretender to the kingdom of earth, and god of nothing.”

  The general stood to his feet and lifted his wide hands. The room doubled like a blurred vision. He ached to reach down and snap her neck. “Your friends are coming to rescue you, Lucia. They will be surprised.”

  The Key’s eyes took on a brighter glow. “Leave me.”

  “Make room for your pals, Lucia.” The general turned and pounded a massive fist against the door. Thick bolts slid from latches. The door cracked open, the horror outside peered in, its ten thousand eyes blinked.

  Temeculus swung the door wide, and paused. “Your little army will be defeated, Lucia.” He walked over the cell’s threshold and slammed the heavy ironwood door behind him.

  32

  Somewhere on an old battleground in Virginia, miles away from the nearest private home stood ten thousand soldiers in military formation dressed in uniforms camouflaged with dark and light gray shades. White berets sat on their heads pinned with golden angel wings bisected by a vertical sword. The soldiers waited in silence as the morning mist swirled around them.

  Joan stood on a five-foot high wooden platform with the angels Okura, Daisy Lane, and Maria. The angels wore the same uniforms as the soldiers except for the twenty-four karat gold angel wings pinned a half inch above their uniform left breast pocket. Near her stood several generals and other officers who wore their regular battle uniforms minus the white berets. All presented themselves before the soldiers. Both men and women filled the ranks.

  General Black performed an inspection ceremony. The unit included all faiths that believed in God. No particular religious group dominated the new Special Forces unit. She removed and placed in a supportive role those troops who did not meet her rigid requirements. Even in Heaven certain angels did not fight battles.

  General Black completed his inspection as fresh sunlight burned off the cool mist. Faint voices from those who fell in battle called out to her. Even the dead wanted Temeculus stopped.

  She needed the troops to understand how to use a shield as a weapon, and the many ways steel can cut and kill. Their upcoming battle required blood and flesh, joined with a fearlessness fueled by faith.

  Chaplain Rogelio Soto approached the pedestal. He bowed his head, asked the others to do the same to pray to God. His voice poured over the loamy field and echoed against the cool green hills. His sweet words rolled off his tongue with ease. He asked God for strength in battle, the bravery to maintain their calm, and if felled by the enemy’s sword, a place in Heaven.

  Joan smiled as the Chaplain’s baritone voice ended the prayer with an Amen. God answered their prayers before Chaplain Soto took the podium. Joan followed with a soft hallelujah from her lips. Next, her eyes followed General Black’s crisp march to the podium. He surveyed the troops a brief moment before he began his speech.

  “We face the terrible. We face things Hollywood conjures up for morbid entertainment. Now those horrors of our nightmares are real, threatening our families, our homes and way of life.

  “At this moment, the world is watching us with braced breath, praying in their temples. The field we now stand on once witnessed a significant battle when our country sat divided. Now we will train here, to keep our world whole.”

  General Black gripped the podium with his large hands. “For the next few grueling days, we will push you hard and bring you all closer to the final goal, where even the thought of death will not shake you. War is not pretty. The world called upon you to make the ultimate sacrifice for an entire planet.”

  He gazed at the sky, and at the Guardians. “Some will appreciate this sacrifice, some will not, even though their freedom depends on your blood. So train hard, for God, for country, and for mankind.” General Black stepped away from the podium.

  Joan took his place with no words in her mind. Birds twittered, a distant rooster crowed from beyond the tree line. “First I would like to say, we are honored you volunteered for this unit. My name is Joan. Next to me are Daisy Lane, Okura, and Maria.”

  Joan fell silent for a second. “Juggernaut, who is not here at the moment, is also a part of our team. We must save this world from Satan’s Black Army. You will learn our method of warfare, which is close in fighting, with swords, spears, bows and arrows, and battleaxes.

  “Your armor will be made of silver, along with silver shields and helmets. We do not use bullets, for bullets cannot destroy the monsters you will fight. Yes, some managed to kill a few, but too many died trying.”

  For a moment, her mind drifted to Charles and William. She considered their deaths unfair, meaningless to God’s overall plan. “We want to teach you how to do the killing with weapons no modern army used in hundreds of years.”

  She paused to take in their wide eyes and still faces, and to push back anger’s heat from her mind. “In this war fear is normal. Cowardice is not. I handpicked you. You agreed to join in this war. If you run, unless ordered to do so, I will kill you myself. Death here, will be glory in Heaven, so stand firm and keep your partners steady who stands next to you. You will need more than training and bravery to face this enemy. You will need faith.”

  Joan smiled. The facial twist seemed an act. She wanted her husband and son. Hollowness opened near her heart. “Your body will go through some amazing things along with your mind once you realize explosions and bullets will not harm you. Nevertheless, those soldiers from Hell are the ones you must understand. Do not let them take your heads, for you will die in battle.”

  Joan waited. She wanted her words to sink deep into their minds and hearts. The soldiers stood calm and steady.

  “Go and prepare yourselves. Call your families and rest for the day. For Tomorrow your training will begin.” Joan stepped from the microphone and fell in line with the other angels. From where he stood, General Black gave a command to his officers.

  Joan turned and strode off the platform followed by the other three angels. She forced herself not to cry. With all her heart,
she wanted her family home, in her arms. Why God did not choose a better way to get her attention remained beyond her.

  The angels crossed the green field and hiked for two miles in silence. The group ended their journey at a dirt road lined with old oaks. They gathered under the thick branches for shade in a semi circle.

  Joan’s brown eyes swept over the uniformed angels who stood before her. She pushed her heart back into its corner.

  “Juggernaut is going to Denver with the Marines,” she said. “He’s going to help them create a stronger defense and survey the area where the back gate is located. American spies in Los Angeles delivered us much useful information on the Black Army’s actions within the city.”

  Joan gave the angel’s time to absorb her words. “Temeculus is killing those who do not convert. Each convert is being branded with the number sixty-six on their forehead.” She paused. “The third six will be delivered by Satan after the Apocalypse is initiated.”

  Daisy Lane, with hands on her curvy hips shook her head. “Well time is ticking away, Joan. We need to rescue Lucia from Hell’s Cathedral and the odds are against us.”

  Joan sensed the sarcasm in Daisy’s voice. “Don’t tell me the odds. Yes, everything is happening fast. General Temeculus blitzed us. He took Los Angeles by surprise, so we must stay on our toes.”

  Okura stared Joan in her eyes. “Will the army be ready?”

  “The army will be ready for battle. Trust me. So, is everyone’s head together?” She regarded their solemn faces.

  Okura leaned forward. “How powerful are we?” He slid shades over his eyes. “Maria here almost died fighting Black Angel, me and Daisy Lane almost lost to Saru in Japan. Are they stronger than we are? What about our personal lives, do we shrug off our filial responsibilities?”

  Joan pursed her lips. “Look at me,” she said and spread her arms wide. “I weigh how much? One-fifteen, and I’m five feet tall. I fought Lord Goth on the White House lawn and handed his ugly ass back to him.”