by Renee Pace
Table of Contents
Copyright Warning
~ Dedication ~
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
~ About the Author ~
More Young Adult Fiction from Etopia Press
The Forsaken
Renee Pace
Copyright Warning
EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Published By
Etopia Press
1643 Warwick Ave., #124
Warwick, RI 02889
http://www.etopia-press.net
The Forsaken
Copyright © 2013 by Renee Pace
ISBN: 978-1-939194-73-2
Edited by Rhiannon Morgan
Cover by Amber Shah
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Etopia Press electronic publication: March 2013
~ Dedication ~
This book is dedicated to my daughter, Talia. You, my dream-child with three older brothers, will learn how to fight for your independence. And your songs fill my heart with joy. Keep on singing!
To my husband, Brian, for his encouragement, love, and hugs that always make my day.
To my good writing friends Nancy Cassidy and Cathy Verge—your coffee chats really uplift my spirits.
To all the girls out there wondering if they can make their own way—oh yes you can.
To all my fans. I hope you enjoy this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. I truly would love to hear from you at [email protected].
Prologue
The overwhelming smell of incense made Izzy gag, but she refused to allow her body that rebellious desire. Using the Kita, she sliced at the demon, enjoying the sound of its skin ripping open but not its sulfur stench. A second ago, the demon had been shredding an older Cherub who hadn’t tried once to defend herself. None of the older Cherubs seemed to want to defend themselves. Demons had been attacking the heavens for the past months, their steady assault slow but determined. Until the last demon was dead or until the heavenly gates were fixed and sealed anew, their assault would continue and more of her sisters would die. And a demon death meant their souls would go straight to Hell.
War had brewed for centuries between the noble houses, but it had taken the kidnapping of a Seraphim child to elicit bloodlust. Many thought the angels who were fighting amongst themselves were a diversion Lucifer was using to mobilize his demon army, and Izzy highly suspected they were correct.
“Look out, Izzy,” yelled Meredith.
Izzy ducked, a demon’s snarly clawed hand missing her head by inches. That was close. Too close. She twisted her body in a move she’d practiced daily since taking up arms, glad now for those tedious days she’d endured being yelled at by their teacher while sweat dripped in a very un-Cherub way down her back. If her mother still lived, Izzy would have been chastised for sweating. Cherubs were sweet and innocent and most certainly did not have body odor. Not that sweating had deterred the one person she’d begged to teach them to defend themselves: a Seraphim, a male warrior angel, who hadn’t wanted to teach them anything about weapons, but one who had agreed to his detriment—and today she thanked him for all those lessons.
Pushing the Kita up, she used all her might to leverage the sword in a swift arch, cutting through the demon’s hand. Minus one hand, and soon to be minus a head. But Meredith was faster. Using speed and agility, Meredith threw the holy water at the demon, while Izzy moved onward. A cluster of demons, their rotten-egg stench easily identifiable, were making their way toward the Cherubs.
“Get those Cherubs out of here,” said Izzy to Meredith, indicating with her head the six older Cherubs who didn’t seem to have any common sense when it came to their safety. “I will take care of this.”
“There’s too many,” said Meredith, her best friend, stating the obvious.
“No time to argue this. Do as I say. They need to leave, and they won’t unless you make them.”
Meredith nodded, knowing when to back off when Izzy was in a fighting mood. Izzy turned her attention back to the horde of demons, thinking they could very well be the death of her.
By the blessed light, I will go down fighting and no more demons will kill Cherubs on this morning. Stalking forward, armed with her Kita and the two knives strapped to either side of her legs, plus the dozen of holy vials cinched on the belt around her waist, she charged at the demons. For once she enjoyed their look of surprise.
Cherubs did not attack.
Guess they didn’t know she was different.
* * *
One week later
“Your actions have cast a black mark on your name. You were warned to stay out of this fight. For your disobedience and because you recruited your fellow Cherub sisters to join your independence movement, you will all be punished as an example. Disobeying heavenly decree, no matter what the motivation, is not accepted.”
She knew Raphael made his task showy when his pointed whip sliced through the air to punctuate the ending of each sentence. He spoke in pleb, the language of the lowest caste, further condemning Isabella by treating her like a commoner. His authoritative voice peppered through the pain that gripped her body. She gagged on the blood in her throat.
Biting the insides of her cheeks, she tasted her own blood, her own life essence. “We want to help. We can aid in this heavenly war. We are only striving to serve the greater good.” She ground out the words—a feeble attempt to reclaim a semblance of dignity. She wanted him and the Septuagint Council—the thirteen-member council that had ruled against them—to understand their desire to help.
The demons pounding on the heavenly gates were increasing in number, and their attacks into the heavenly realm had only grown more brazen over the recent months. To sit on the side and watch her brethren fall had been too much for Isabella. A gasp from one of her sisters forced her mind to the present. She almost wished it hadn’t.
“Order must be maintained. Your actions are causing discord.”
Raphael swept out his arm, forcing Isabella to look at her sisters. The black whip reminded her of a coiled snake slithering along behind him to exact her punishment. Standing clustered together, six of the seven Cherub angels, all novices like herself, faced the Septuagint Council.
“Leave them. This is my crime.” Isabella’s fear for her sisters caused her courage to slip. The guilt that
she had been the one to set this drama into motion weighed heavily on her. She didn’t bother speaking in the formal tongue of scripture, and went straight to pleb. A transgression, adding to her list of Cherub faults that made her different in the eyes of the Council. Her voice, steady, pleased her. Everything else about what had happened to her and the fellow Cherubs who had followed her movement of independence left bile in her throat. I beg of thee: spare them.
“Judgment has been written. Disobeying Cherub law merits penance. Disobeying the Mistress, who sits on the right hand of the Almighty, merits exile. You are being sentenced.”
Isabella caught the holy glow from the polished Kita—the sword ordained to extract punishment. Cold sweat broke out everywhere, and her eyes widened as she choked on the acrid taste of fear, knowing it showed plainly on her face.
Raphael pulled her right wing hard, making it taut.
“Exile! I will take exile!” Her screaming plea met deaf ears.
Raphael moved the sword in a fast arc. Isabella caught the reflected horror mirrored on her sisters’ faces. The sword had only been used one other time. Isabella did not want to be the second.
“It is too late for thee, Isabella. Thy Mistress did grant a small reprieve as she will bless you an audience. Bow thy head to acknowledge thanks.”
Isabella did so swiftly, not that her body was capable of much else. She had been ceremoniously draped in the starchy white robe Cherubs wore while undergoing penance but that robe was now shredded from the whip. Her shoulders hunched, and for once Isabella kept her head and eyes downcast as was befitting someone of her age when brought before the powerful Council.
Isabella didn’t see the Kita arch down to sever her wing. Instead she felt the hot loss of her appendage as the nerve roots were hacked through. Soaring soul pain flew like a high, off-pitched note through her body. Frozen with the lash of excruciating awareness, she crumpled forward, falling with her arms outstretched as her back bent demonically upward, attempting to escape what came next. Raphael grasped her by the neck. He forced her head down with the sole of his foot to anchor her shuddering body firmly in place.
Isabella screamed until her voice no longer worked. I have been thrown into the pits of Hell.
Golden rivers of her blood, oozed around her shaking body. The sticky substance smelled of dewy, blooming flowers, and the liquid soaked itself into her gown.
When each of Isabella’s sisters were forced to kneel next to her, Isabella felt her heartbeat triple. She never expected this. A reprimand, yes. But this, it was too much. This was all her fault. Her obsession with the Almighty’s children had caused her fall. Her fascination with their culture, their women’s independence, and sense of freewill had been a seed fermenting in her, creating a longing for more than a Cherub life. Worse, she had led a crusade to entice her fellow sisters to join her in arms when the consequences had been clearly outlined. A Cherub’s duty is one of service to a Seraphim and nothing more. It had been the nothing more that angered Isabella. Knowing they would all pay the price for her desire for freedom sat like a fiery cross in her heart.
The shocked gasps of her sisters stoked that fire, and Isabella prayed with her heavenly heart for their eventual forgiveness. They do not deserve this. One day, I will make this right.
That conviction enabled her to endure what came next.
Forcing her head up, she leveled a steady gaze at the Mistress, also known as Mother. Cold and hot, her emotions were as volatile as her moods. The Mistress’s neck straightened and for a second, Isabella let herself hope she would relent in the punishment.
The Mistress, veiled in a royal purple robe that notched at the wrists, wore black gloves to cover her hands, and a veil covered her face. Not one speck of flesh was visible.
Isabella felt like a youngling being brought before her mother, who wore the obvious look of displeasure on her face which was clearly evident in her piercing swirling gold flecked eyes. Shivering, Isabella forced the churning feeling of nausea down as bile rose steadily up. Panic slurred her carefully chosen words. “I accept the punishment, penance, and plead with my heavenly heart, Mistress, for you to accept my pain and suffering and not to punish my Cherub sisters.” She prayed for the Mistress’s compassion.
The Mistress moved closer to Isabella and the scent of rose incense billowed through the somber Council. A heavy gold circle hung loosely around the Mistress’s neck. Another smaller necklace with an onyx circle hung even closer to her heart, the black a not-so-subtle reminder of the first fallen angel. Its dark color gleamed at Isabella.
“My child, what penance do thee willingly sacrifice for thy fellow sisters?”
Everything in heaven is about sacrifices.
With her blood no longer streaming from the stubs of her wings, a traitorous thought roared through her mind. Isn’t this enough?
“Spare them and I will grant you anything you ask.” Isabella’s shaky, pain-filled voice didn’t sound like her own. Then again, her body was protesting the loss of her wings, which she had cherished. Part and parcel of why they’d been severed from her. Pride. Disobedience. Identity. Traits not warranted in a Cherub.
“This is a lesson thou must learn the hard way, my child. Thy sacrifice is duly noted and that pleases the Almighty greatly. Thy fellow sisters I bless whole, but thou wilt all be exiled to Earth.”
Hushed but frantic gasps of fear caught at Isabella. She didn’t dare look at her Cherub sisters. Exiled to Earth, kicked out of the heavens; the harshest of penalties had been passed onto them. And here she thought because they were Cherubs they might be granted a reprieve.
Isabella had not cried when they whipped her. She had not shed a tear when her wings had been sliced off, but she cried now. “I beg thee…”
The Mistress turned back toward the Council. Isabella could have sworn she heard her say, “For the greater good, Isabella, thy will be done.”
Chapter One
The reek of rotting food filled his senses. Rancid juice seeped through his penance gown, making his butt wet and cold. The flimsy material did little to warm him or keep him clean. His first impression of the Earthly realm: disgusting!
Nathanael stood, automatically arching his wings to take more of his weight as he balanced precariously on the large garbage bags littering the Dumpster. Grimacing, he stumbled forward, falling fast and hard to the asphalt. He’d forgotten his wings had been removed.
He skidded on the hard pavement while his mind balked at the stench and at the unholy sight mankind had created on the Almighty’s blessed Earth. Blood oozed a golden hue from his ripped knees. While the alley was dark, his angel eyesight enabled him to see clearly. He shivered. Too bad I can’t regulate my body temperature. Earth is cold.
Standing, he braced his legs apart, moving into his warrior-training stance. What was I thinking? A gust of wind brought a pungent fecal odor straight to his nose, and then he remembered: make right the wrong to his intended mate so he could succeed. Simple, he’d boasted to his brethren, but as he stood on the hard ground of Earth, he wondered if that would be the case.
Deep in thought, Nathanael didn’t hear the men moving from the shadows of the alley until harsh hands pushed him down, grinding his nose and face into the oily slime from the nearby Dumpster.
By the blessed blade, I am a fool. Not only a fool, but now I’m covered in grime. Nathanael swore he heard his brethren laughing their collective asses off at him. That, more than being held down, angered him. Nathanael bucked back at his assailants. Shocked when he couldn’t dislodge their arms, he struggled more, twisting his body this way and that, seeking an opportunity to slip an arm free of their pin hold. Once free, he would plan his revenge. Plus, they were wasting his precious time. He no more wanted to be on Earth than be held down. Humans and heaven-born angels did not mix; that creed was certainly written down in one of the holy book held in the heavenly library.
He was Sere, used to fighting—but without the support of his wings, his body did not
bend the way it should. Muffling a mouth full of obscenities that would have shocked his brethren, he bucked up again, forcing one man to let go.
“Looking for an easy target, are we, gentlemen?”
The lyrical voice stole through his brain, gut, and heart like a holy light. The woman’s words, soft in melody, boomed like liberating bells through his body. And he knew that heavenly voice must belong to the purest of angels, a Cherub. What is she doing here? Nathanael twisted his bloodied face, still pinned to the asphalt, until he could see the angel.
One man let go of him to swagger toward a young-looking woman. She stood her ground, wearing a costume that made her look anything but Cherub. She wore tight black pants that looked like a second skin. Brown boots that went up to her knees encased her calves and a black formfitting shirt that clung to her body stunned Nathanael. He could barely breathe. Cherubs, beautiful in their traditional, modest robes, did not hold a candle to this alluring teen taunting the men with her voice and dark-clothed body.
Her leather jacket billowed around her. She bowed, extending her long torso toward the man. The twinkle of her star-studded earlobes caught Nathanael’s eye, quickening his heart. She made her movements slow, appearing to welcome the man’s advance. She tossed her candlelight hair over her shoulder as she pivoted one foot behind, balancing in a warrior’s stance. Nathanael saw a throwing star gleam in her right hand and admiration rose through him. This Cherub could wield her voice to make the man do anything she wanted. Instead, she planned to teach him a lesson in humility.
Contorting his own body, Nathanael slid free of the other man’s hold. Without giving his opponent time to jump him again, he leveled a kick to the man’s midsection, noting at the last second the man’s eyes were an unholy green.
The woman didn’t spare him a second glance. “Get back from him. I’ll take care of this.”