by J. J. Dean
Fractured Angel
By J.J. Dean
Kindle Edition Copyright © 2020 J.J. Dean
Cover Art Design 2020 by JODIELOCKS Designs
Edited 2020 by Michelle Ann at Inked Imagination
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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. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted material is illegal.
This is fiction completely from the imagination. The people, places, and events are based on fictitious use.
Table of Contents
Prologue
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
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
A Touch Of Death
Sneak Peak 1
Sneak Peak 2
Want to read more?
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
STALKER LINKS
ABOUT J.J. DEAN
Dedicated to my those who love angels
as much as I do.
Prologue
The Fall
“You’ll have to choose, Nevaeh. It’s the only way. You know this,” Javos tells me, his gravelly voice nothing but an echo in my ears, the pain tearing at my body mercilessly. I don't know how long I've laid here in a small pool of my own blood, begging for mercy. Praying to Him to take the pain away, for it to end. My pleading falls on deaf ears. He's banished me, stripped me of my wings and pushed me off the pedestal he thought so highly of. His precious daughter, fallen and damned. Flawed. Fractured.
Instead, I’ve been sent Javos and Brolos, the Gargoyle who serves Satan and the Cherub who serves Him. But they’re not here to help, to end my suffering. They’re here to convince me to choose a side even though the choice I made found me wingless and tortured.
With great effort, I strain, “I will never...choose. This is my...decision.”
I can’t see them, but I hear the Cherub sigh. Brolos has never been one for much communication.
“We’ll return every half a century until you make a decision, Nevaeh. A choice must be made. A life among the humans will not abolish that,” Javos repeats.
I refuse to answer, not that I could at this point. The torment is only growing in fierceness, the pain dragging me under with its sharpened claws. Hearing another sigh, I close my eyes and block them out, the overpowering agony enough to overtake my mind.
I’m not sure when they leave, but time slips away from me as I lie here with tears streaming down my face. I can't tell how long it's been since I Fell: weeks, years, decades? The only way I know time is moving at all is with the descent of the sun and the rise of the moon. I've simply lost track of how many cycles there have been, how many rotations the planet I've been banished to for only refusing to pick a side has made. It feels like I've been writhing in agony for eons.
The pain distracts me from my inner musings. Every inhale of air sends paralyzing pain through my back. When I try to move, the agony grows so intense that I collapse back onto the gravel floor, my cheek pressed against the dirt and blood. I can't even crawl away to someplace else to endure my suffering. All I can think about is the never-ending pain and when it will finally fade.
When the pain grows to unbearable heights, I scream. I scream until I feel my throat burn, until my voice grows raw and raspy, and I release every ounce of pain I'm feeling from my voice box. Tears streak down my face at a faster pace, falling from my cheeks and onto the ground beneath me.
I must have passed out at some point because when I come to again, the sky is dark, and stars litter the vast expanse with a glittered effect. The moon is full tonight, beaming brightly against the black sky. Another tear falls from my eye as I look up at something so beautiful while I suffer through something quite the opposite.
My silver hair is matted and grimy, there isn't a single part of my toga that isn't covered in dirt or stained with my blood, and there is mud embedded under my nails from trying to drag my body away from the very spot that'll haunt me for however long I'll remain here. The contrast is startling.
Eventually, I begin to pay attention to the rise and fall of the sun, counting the days I remain in the crater I made when I crashed here. The pain finally begins to fade as more years pass, grass grows around my body, and flowers come and go through the seasons I begin to notice. The world truly is beautiful. I just wish I could see it through eyes that don't know pain and suffering.
Why am I even suffering for as long as I am? I've borne witness to an angel healing. Never has it taken decades to heal from any wound. No matter how severe the wounds, no matter how close to death, it has never taken so long for an angel to heal. Is this my punishment? To live a life of torture, prone in a ditch of my own making with no end in sight? Have I truly committed a crime so heinous that He won't allow me to heal? Instead, leaving me to rot here like discarded spoils, forgotten while I pay the price of choosing humanity?
The more time that passes, the more the pain begins to lessen. The wounds still bleed, dripping with every movement I make, but the pain becomes more tolerable with each passing year. The world moves on around me, seasons come and go, and the beauty of the planet only grows.
The gaping holes in my back begin to stitch together, the sound of flesh attaching to flesh sickening me to my core. I heave, though nothing evacuates my empty stomach. I've been here for years without food or water, though I've not perished. He's granted my immortality as a way for me to endure my punishment. I've never known Him to be so cruel. Considering he's the Creator of humanity, I would have thought he'd contain a fraction himself, sparing me the torture of my fall.
Alas, years have passed, and only now I begin to heal. The pain feels almost worse than when my wings were torn from the bones in my back. My wounds burn, blood pours, and I grow dizzy with the sensations of skin reattaching to itself and the amount of blood that's escaped my body.
Once again, I find myself closing my eyes only for them to open to a world that almost seems entirely different. Trees have sprouted around me, protecting me from the downpour of rain that I've woken to. I have no idea how long I've been unconscious, but the greenery that surrounds me is breathtaking. The colors are vibrant and lively; raindrops sparkle on leaves and blades of grass.
I make to move, finally attempting to pull my body away from this place. My back prote
sts, but I grit through the discomfort. I push myself until I'm kneeling on the floor, sitting on the heels of my dirty feet, and breathless with the effort it took to move my body upright.
My shoulders drop, and a gust of air leaves my lungs in sheer awe. Ignoring the pain that laces my spine, I rise to my feet, unsteady but determined. I stand and slowly turn, my eyes raking over everything in quick succession. I take it all in; the feel of the cool drops of rain that sneak through the canopy of leaves above me, the plethora of colors that paint the flowers that surrounds me, and the utter beauty that now surrounds me. No longer does a desolate wasteland cover the earth, no longer does grit and rubble litter the ground, and no longer does the earth beg for nourishment.
My surroundings have truly flourished while I've spent years suffering.
But now that the suffering has finally ended, I can accept my punishment. This is my home now. This is where I will remain; this world is mine. I will live my life to its fullest. I'll cherish humanity the way He should have. I'll make a life for myself in the world I Fell in love with from the Heavens above.
This isn't my punishment.
This is fate.
Chapter 1
Luna
Staring out of my large apartment, I begin to think of the first time I thought I loved someone as much as I do Ms. Frenchie. Of course, it was a different kind of love. It was entirely toxic, and it put me off letting anyone other than Francis in - she's sneaky like that. Ms. Frenchie has been the only person who's loved me for me, cared for me and broke my damn walls so I'd care back. The only person to care for me before her was Him, and we all know how that turned out. I was banished from my pedestal after choosing humanity even though we spent centuries watching over humanity together.
The last of humanity I saw before falling to Earth was the time of the horrendous Witch Trials. Waking up to nothing but dirt and debris left me disoriented beyond belief, unsure which era I landed in. There wasn't a soul in sight, only me and my self-made crater.
However, after decades of suffering, I found somewhere to hide until I was ready to face the world without my wings. I’d been happy to live in solitude for a while, spending fifty-eight years there before I found another living being. But that's when I found him, or rather he found me. The only man I thought loved me. He wasn't as soft-hearted and caring as Francis, something I learned later on. In fact, if I didn't know Lucifer, I would have sworn Alistair Brady was the Devil himself.
Another day passes, the sun rising before the moon takes its place. The rushing of water flowing in the river nearby soothes my mind, the pattering of animals scurrying through the forest my own lullaby as I waste away another day hidden from the world.
The sky darkens, and the stars glitter the sky with their beauty. I sit outside the cave I found and made my home all those years ago. My legs dangle over the cliff's edge, and my eyes rake over the view. That's something I've grown rather fond of. It's utterly breath-taking. I can see the expanse of the forest from here, the endless groves of trees that span as far as the eye can see.
This place is my solitude. No one comes here, the Gargoyle and Cherub excluded. They made another appearance thirty-two years ago if I'm accurately counting the days. Apparently, fifty years since the last visit they made when I'd been broken on the floor, crying for mercy.
My jaw clenches, but I brush those thoughts aside. My dreams already haunt me with my Fall. There's no need to look back on those memories further when I can barely escape them as it is. I've vowed to live my life in peace, leaving my Fall as far behind me as my mind will allow.
Relaxing my body, I listen to the sound of trees croaking against the wind, the symphony of leaves rustling when a particularly strong breeze floats through the air. The first drops of rain begin not a moment later, slowly starting before the sky opens, and the downpour crashes down with wild abandon.
I'm soaked to the bone by the time I rush inside, watching the rain from the safety of the cave as my long silver hair drips water over the stone floor. The rain obscures the view of the stars, so I make my way further into the cave, surrounding myself in darkness while I wait for the storm to pass.
I sit down on my makeshift bed, huddling into the soft furs that lay on the ground. Yawning, I drop my head back against the wall and find myself slowly falling asleep to the comforting sounds of the storm raging on.
I'm not sure what wakes me, but I startle and automatically reach for my bow and arrow when a noise outside rouses me from the restless sleep I'd fallen into. Slowly, as not to make any noise, I stand and lean against the wall, sticking to the shadows that consume me. I listen and wait, prepared to aim my bow at any given second.
More noise echoes out through the cave, and it sounds like a... human.
But that doesn't make sense. Humans don't come here. It's too secluded and dominated by wilderness. The animals rule here, and no human is safe to travel this far. I've found enough corpses on my hunts to know these forests don't offer protection to anyone who dares enter them.
I keep my silence, sinking further into the shadows when the noises grow louder and easier to hear over the roaring rainfall. The cave is barely lit, only the moonlight shining through the opening enough to see the entrance of the cave. Enough to see the two men that enter, their clothes drenched and plastered to their bodies, and their hair slicked back with the use of the rain.
My eyes widen on them, watching them ring out their fancy but soaked clothing on the cave's floor, drops of water darkening the ground where they stand. They don't see me, continuing with their conversation unknowingly.
"I told you it wasn't a good idea to tie the horses to that post. It didn't look near sturdy enough. Now we're stuck here while a storm rages on and without a way to travel home. Father isn't going to be pleased," the man on the left says, shaking his shaggy blonde hair out, spattering raindrops everywhere. He looks young in age, perhaps sixteen. He still has a boyish look to him with a rounded face and a youthful complexion.
The man beside him, however, looks to be in his mid-twenties. Russet colored hair made darker by the rain sits atop his head in disarray. His features are sharp, irises dark and intense. His lips are pursed while his eyes narrow in irritation when he looks at his brother, and he says, "Father won't know about it because I'll fix it, Reagan. Have a little faith in your brother."
Reagan rolls his eyes before his gaze runs over the walls of the cave. What he sees are fingerpainted flowers in various colors, a memorial of the flowers that littered the ground around me when I was finally able to move again without the accompanying pain.
"Alistair, it looks as though someone has been here before us," the young boy tells his brother, looking around a little more thoroughly. He unwittingly steps closer to where I'm hiding, causing me to step backward.
Much to my chagrin, the moment I step back, the fur beneath my feet rustles, and my bow clips the stone wall, sounding louder in the otherwise quiet alcove.
After a beat of silence, the older man demands, "Who's there? Show yourself."
Frozen in fear, I don't move.
The boy slowly walks closer towards me, squinting as if to try and see through the darkness. "Hello?"
"Reagan, move away from there. It could be a rabid animal, you fool. Or a person completely unhinged," Alistair complains, reaching out to drag the boy back by the collar of his shirt. He drags the boy roughly behind him, using his body as a shield between the boy and me. With hardened, narrowed eyes, the man growls, "You there. Show yourself."
My hackles rise with the way he's speaking, so I do the only thing I feel comfortable with.
I shake myself out of my frozen state and stiffen my spine. Pulling up my bow, I cock an arrow ready and step away from the shadows, aiming between the eyes of the copper-headed man. I keep enough distance between us both, my hands steady as they brace themselves, ready to shoot if necessary. I truly hope it doesn't come to that. I've only ever hunted animals for food and warmth. Not one arrow has
been used against a human in all my time here, and I hope not to change that tonight.
The boy gasps, and the man holds his hands up beside his head. His expression changes, his hardened features smoothing out with something that looks like surprised awe. His dark eyes spark with something I can't name, and he makes a slow, steady step closer.
"Stay back, or I'll release the arrow," I warn him, my voice rasped from how little I've used it since Javos and Brolos last paid a visit.
"Now, now. No need for hasty decisions. We aren't here to harm you. My brother and I only seek shelter from the storm until we're able to find our horses again. Please, lower your weapon," the man says, his voice calm and steady. He takes another step closer, his eyes seeming to change from hostile to kind in but a short moment.
I lower my bow a fraction, watching him closely as I do. He takes it as an invitation to walk closer still. His brother walks close to his back, pale eyes watching me with interest.
"Who are you?" I ask, keeping my bow suspended between lowering it and keeping it trained on my unexpected visitors.
"My name is Alistair Brady. This here is my younger brother, Reagan. We had the misfortune of getting lost. Our horses escaped when we went to the river for water," the man tells me, keeping the tone of his voice soft.
I eye them carefully before lowering my weapon, not seeing anything on them that could do me harm. I step further out of the shadows, and the man's eyes widen, though I'm not entirely sure why. There are human women to be had here, so I'm not something unusual. I'm in nothing but scraps of fur that cover the necessities, and my feet are bare. Perhaps that would be the reason for the shock on his face.
"Might I ask who you are?" the man inquires, standing upright and dropping his hands to his sides. His eyes rake over my body, leaving a trail of unusual heat in their wake.
The boy moves around his brother with boyish excitement. Before I can answer, Reagan blurts, "How is your hair silver? It almost glows like the moon."