by Mandy Lee
Dark Angels (Book Two)
Fallen
Mandy Lee
Twisted Mirror Press
Copyright © 2020 Amanda Jones
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 978-1-7751014-1-3
ISBN: 978-1-7751014-4-4
Would the real Dr. Watt please stand up!?! A big thanks once again to my friend Howie who was the inspiration for Dr. Watt. You’re a rock star sir! Frank, Angela, and Mike – thank you for always staying on me about my writing (and not letting me get lazy!). Love you guys!
In the absence of light, darkness prevails...
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Dark Angels: Fallen
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
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Coming Soon...
About The Author
Books In This Series
Books By This Author
Dark Angels: Fallen
Dark Angels: Fallen
Chapter One
Baal heaved a sigh and pushed a hand through his hair as he shoved his way out the side door of the apartment building and entered the alley. He felt the familiar sensation of his stomach rolling as he cleared the doorway. It was always like this, he’d go home with one of the demons he’d picked up at The Advocate — fuck their brains out, then sneak out the back door fighting to keep his dinner down. He’d been stuck on repeat for centuries now, but the nausea still seemed to sneak up on him and kick his ass. B leaned back against the brick wall of the building and hunched forward, resting his hands on his knees as he desperately sucked air into his lungs in a bid to slow down the roller coaster in his abdomen. He chuckled bitterly. This was all so ridiculous.
He’d started his existence as an angel, light and pure, with majestic wings he’d used to soar through the skies. He’d had few cares and fewer problems; that was, until he’d helped lead a rebellion. He and his closest friends had been responsible for the deaths of many of their kind, leading to their fall. As if falling wasn’t bad enough, things had only gotten worse from there. He’d been found by demons — naked and injured from the removal of his wings — and held captive for close to a century. All manner of abuses had been heaped upon him, leaving him battered and bruised in both mind and body.
He’d spent as much time since trying to erase the awful memories — being the best fighter, screwing the most women, joking around all the time. But at the end of the day, B knew the truth. He wasn’t just damaged; he was broken beyond repair. He’d already forgotten tonight’s distraction’s name…if he’d even bothered to ask. All he knew for sure was that she’d had red hair. Not the flaming, madly-curling mane he dreamed of, but as close as he could get.
B closed his eyes and saw her face, not the woman he’d just left, but the woman he wanted more than anything — Mara, the vampire with the wild hair, jade green eyes, infectious laugh, and sharp white fangs. Another wave of nausea rolled through him and he forced her image from his mind. He’d never be good enough for her, clean enough. He was too broken and she deserved so much better. B would just have to make do with cheap substitutes.
Shoving himself upright, B yanked his phone out of his pocket. The little red light was flashing as he thumbed the keypad to check his messages. There were two new texts. One was from Gadreel, B’s closest friend, asking when he’d be making an appearance back at The Advocate. The other was from Luc…Lucifer, checking in from his honeymoon. B’s heart felt hollow as he read Luc’s message.
It was a simple note, nothing fancy, just letting him know that he and Katia, his new wife, were both good, inviting him to visit their new home, but it just served to remind B how empty his existence really was. He could fill it with all the women and fighting in the world, but he would never have the love and peace that Luc had found when Katia came into his life. She was a special woman, strong enough to be Luc’s match in every way, but soft enough to have brought him back his light. Luc was a damned lucky man.
B shook his head and rolled his shoulders as he pulled up Gadreel’s number on his phone, time to put his game face back on before he talked to his buddy. Gadreel knew the real deal, but he was notorious for answering calls on speakerphone, and B was damned if he’d have anyone else guessing at all the ugly in his past. With a deep breath, B took all the painful thoughts, threw them in a safe and spun the lock. He pasted on a cocky grin and thumbed the send button on his phone.
B turned and began heading toward the mouth of the alley and the lights and sounds of the city. With his phone to his ear, B walked as he listened to the ringing of the line. Three rings in, he heard footsteps coming down the alley behind him. He stopped. The footsteps fell silent. B held his breath and turned slowly to face the source of the noise, alarm bells clanging in the back of his mind. As he completed the one-eighty, he came face to face with a huge problem. Standing a few feet away from him in the semi-darkness was Keir, Katia’s brother. Luc’s wife had been inconsolable after Satan had used her twin’s body as a vessel for a dark soul, their last glimpse of him had left everyone shaken, evil had oozed out of him like an infectious disease. There had been no news about him in weeks, and now here he was, his jet black hair cut into a Mohawk, an assortment of piercings adorning his pale, angular face, black leather encased his lean body, and his eyes glowed like blood-red beacons in the night.
The hand holding his phone dropped from B’s ear just as he heard Gadreel’s disembodied voice float through the connection. “Hello? Hello? B? Hellooooo?”
A shiver ran up B’s spine as Keir’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Well, well, if it isn’t Baal. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
B schooled his features into an expression of boredom. “Really? I can’t imagine why you’d waste your time on me.” Reaching into his jacket pocket, he fished around a bit and pulled out a cigarette. “Got a light?” he asked, feigning nonchalance. Not a chance in Sheol he’d let anyone on Team Satan know he was shaking in his boots. Since the apocalypse was averted a few weeks ago, none of the fallen really knew where they stood. They were no longer servants of Satan, bu
t aside from Luc, none of them had regained their wings…it was anybody’s guess exactly what they were now, and what they could survive. B stuck the cigarette between his lips and raised his eyebrow at Keir.
Keir smirked. “I’m almost tempted to let you have one for the road but, unfortunately, I’m working on a tight schedule. Time is, sadly, not on your side.” He reached under his jacket and began unwinding something from around his waist. “I know the others are holed up in The Advocate but they can’t remain there forever.”
B plucked the cigarette back out of his mouth and tucked it behind his ear. “So I drew lucky number one, did I?” He narrowed his eyes at the whip that now rested in Keir’s hands. The black leather was studded with nasty looking barbs that glinted in the weak light filtering into the alley.
“Give my regards to your friend Asmodeus when you see him in Halja.” Keir cracked the whip, his movements so quick B was almost unable to track them. He hit the deck, his phone crashing to the ground and splintering apart on impact. He felt a biting pain as the barbs connected with his cheek as he dropped. B sucked in a breath at the sting. He leapt to his feet as quickly as he could and began to race down the alley toward the street, his boots pounding on the pavement as he ran. The sound of blood rushing in his ears drowned out the noises around him, making the sounds of the city muffled and distant like he was under water. It was only the chill running up his spine that gave away Keir’s pursuit. The cut on his cheek was burning like the Devil himself as B’s blood dripped down his face. Why wasn’t it healing?
B was struck from behind, sending him sprawling onto the concrete. A steel-toed boot connected with his face and he felt his nose break. His mind spun. His wounds weren’t healing as they should have. He could feel the blood, warm and sticky on his face, as he tried to ward off a flurry of fists. His bones cracked and snapped beneath Keir’s assault. Shoring up his remaining strength, B tucked up his legs and kicked out at his assailant, sending Keir flying through the air. B rolled to one side and hauled himself to his feet, staggering a few steps toward the mouth of the alley. There was no way he’d be pursued onto the crowded sidewalk. One thing the dark and the light agreed on was the standing rule that knowledge about the supernatural world should be avoided among the general human population. Only a few more paces and he’d be in plain sight of everyone on the street. An iron grip clamped down on his upper arm, spinning him around to face an irate Keir. His features were twisted in rage, his glowing red eyes boring into B’s hazel ones. His back slammed into the brick of the building behind him, he wheezed as the air was expelled from his lungs with the force of impact.
“Why can’t you just lay down and die?” Keir spat out at him.
With nothing to lose, B let his smartass mouth off-leash. “I’m going to assume that’s a rhetorical question.” He mumbled through his split lips.
Keir hissed in response, drawing a dagger out of a loop on his belt. “Enough!”
B felt the dagger bite into the side of his neck as Keir applied pressure. “Shit,” he breathed as he squeezed his eyes shut. He’d imagined how he would go out many times over his long existence…he'd never pictured this. He felt his skin split as the dagger was drawn across his neck. Oddly, it didn’t hurt; he just felt a strange warmth as his blood flowed out onto the ground. A scream pierced the air and B felt his body falling. His eyes snapped open as his skull connected with the concrete. The dagger landed right beside him, the blade only inches from his eyes. B was able to clearly make out the words etched into the flat surface. In nomine diaboli. Not good. The dagger had been charmed to seriously fuck up immortals. Before his eyes the pool of blood spread out around the dagger.
“Oh, fuck.” B groaned as his brain went offline, and he was engulfed in a beautiful darkness.
Chapter Two
“He asked me to do it as a favor, and he was in such a panic. What was I supposed to do?” Mara said as she pushed open the door to the break room at Grace Hospital.
“You’ve always been so adamant you’d never do it. I’m just curious about what tipped the scales this time.” The smooth voice that replied held the slight Scottish burr the speaker had never lost, even after all this time.
Mara hung her stethoscope on a hook inside her cubby and turned around to face Alexander, her oldest friend. She raised her eyebrow in question. “What are you fishing for, Alex?”
“Me? Fishing? Never!” Alex replied with mock innocence.
Mara snorted as she made her way over to the refrigerator and grabbed one of her juice-boxes. She stabbed the straw in and took a long pull. This was such a great time to be a vampire. If you knew where to shop, you could get blood-filled juice-boxes and bagged plasma. You really never had to feed from humans at all. Things had changed a lot since she’d been turned. Grabbing another box out of the fridge, she tossed it over to Alex, who caught it single-handed. “If you want to know something, just ask.”
Sucking on his straw, Alex narrowed his eyes at her. “All right. Are you into this guy? Is that why you turned his friend when he asked?”
“Really, Alex?” Mara whined.
“Really, Mara.” Alex mimicked her as he drained his juice-box and tossed it into the garbage can across the room. “Nothing but net,” he said as it entered the trash dead-center. “I’ve known you for three centuries and you’ve been dead set against ever turning anyone.”
Mara tossed her box in to join Alex’s. “‘Dead set.’ Funny.” She gave him a wry smile. “Look, he’s not hard on the eyes, and there’s just something about him…so yeah, I guess I’m into him. Doesn’t matter though ‘cause he’s not into me.”
“His loss.”
Mara laughed. “This is why you’re such an awesome friend.” She squeezed Alex’s arm. “Plus, Sergei’s a good guy, and he’s adapting to life as a vampire really well.”
“Just do me a favor. Next time you decide to turn someone, and you disappear for three weeks, let me know what’s up so I’m not sitting around worrying about you. Deal?”
“Deal.” Mara pulled out a chair and sat. “So, how’s our last patient doing post-op?”
“Pretty good.” Alex sat down across from her. “I’m going to get started on fitting him for a prosthetic soon. He’s healing up really well, you did great work in surgery…as always.” He smiled.
“You could have done that operation in your sleep.” Mara said with a roll of her eyes. “You’ve gotten so many qualifications over the years it’s kinda sickening—surgical training, physiology, biophysics, biomechanics — you could probably do every job in this hospital.”
Alex smiled. “Yes, but you know my passion has always been in prosthetics.” Reaching down he yanked up his pant legs. “With good reason.”
Mara looked down at Alex’s legs. He’d had prosthetics as long as she’d known him, and that had been a very long time. He’d lost his legs just below the knee to canon fire at the Battle of Flodden in 1513. Now, he was just plain old Doctor Alexander Stewart. But back then, he’d been Sir Alexander Stewart, Lord Chancellor, and illegitimate son of King James IV. He would have died had he not been discovered by a fellow solider as he lay bleeding on the battlefield. That soldier was a vampire and he'd turned Alexander that night. As far as history was concerned, he’d died as a twenty-year-old nobleman, yet here he was five centuries later. He’d found his calling in medical science and had worked in prosthetics ever since, always on the forefront of innovation. Mara had seen Alex with a variety of prosthesis over the years — from iron, to steel, to leather, and now these very impressive high-tech ones.
“So, these are the new bionic legs you were talking about,” she said, leaning down to take a closer look. “Are you able to hit top speed yet?”
Alex smiled. “It’s amazing what you can do with a microprocessor these days.” He dropped his pant legs back down. “We’ll have to test them together, see if I can keep up with you now.”
“You know I’m super-fast right?” Mara gave Alex an irreverent wink
. “I’m not sure if an old man like you can take me.”
“Ha. Old man! Must I remind you that we’re both technically the same age?” he said with a laugh.
Mara rolled her eyes. “Give or take a century or two.”
“Now, now, we were both turned at twenty.” Alex punched her lightly on the arm.
Mara took in Alex’s face, his short auburn hair, his light brown eyes, and his crooked smile, all as familiar as her own reflection. He’d been part of her life for so long, her closest friend and confidant, and the one who'd saved her sanity after she’d been turned. When Alex had found her, she’d been feral, unable to control her hunger. He’d taken her under his wing and given her back her humanity. She owed him more than she could ever repay.
“Technicalities.” She smiled as her pager went off. “Speaking of age, we have to leave town soon. We’ve already been here too long, and people are going to start asking questions. Time to play medical prodigies somewhere else.” Mara unclipped the beeping pager from the waistband of her scrubs and peered down at the screen. “Incoming. ETA is two minutes. I’d better head back to the pit to meet the ambulance. Let’s schedule that race. I want to see if I can still run faster than the bionic man.” She jumped up and grabbed her stethoscope out of her cubby.
Alex stood and performed a very intricate bow as he motioned toward the door. “My Lady.”
Mara laughed as she headed toward the latest emergency. “You’re such a tool…and I say that with all the friend-love in the world.”
Chapter Three
Mara twisted her wildly curling red hair into a messy bun as she walked through the pit toward the sliding emergency doors. Living in the human world came with its challenges, and managing the speed at which they moved was a constant nuisance for vampires. In the fast-paced world of emergency medicine there were times she wished she could streak through the hallways in a blur. She stepped on the sensor and the glass doors slid open with a whoosh, the blaring siren of an approaching ambulance screamed through the air as Mara walked out into the crisp night. The ambulance screeched to a stop in front of the emergency bay doors, the driver jumped out and ran around the vehicle, throwing open the double doors. Mara sprung into action, snapping on her latex gloves as she addressed the EMTs.