A swirling vortex begins to form. It’s a state of near-infinite density and temperature.
At the center, a pinpoint of light blinks, dark energy embedded in empty space.
The seed of life gives rise to nebulous forms that ghost past like sharks. The murky forms become clearer. Humanoid shapes form, and angels emerge.
The angels writhe and open their mouths. They let loose a pulsating and ear-splitting shriek.
In the blink of an eye, the pinpoint of light arcs, creating a supernova, a morning star.
Then…the woodcut flashes ablaze with an overwhelming white light in the largest explosion that will ever be. It’s an explosion of time and space.
The blast wave, a million nuclear explosions all at once, sweeps outward, birthing stars and our Sun.
Galaxy upon galaxy, the universe bulges without beginning or end. The afterglow from the explosion stretches past the barriers of the woodcut and come into contact with a back-lit shadow that moves back over everything and orchestrates an order to the chaos. The presence of God is breathing life out over His creation.
“In the beginning, God created the angels,” Father Jerome says.
The angels on the woodcut fan out in the millions, stretching burning streaks across the sky, and proto-galaxies blossom and birth the universe.
“The breath of life in His image spreads, and the angels were tasked with the formation of Heaven, which was not celestial but a plane of higher existence and originally located on Earth,” Father Jerome continues. “They called it by a different name then. The Plains of Heaven.”
In the middle of the cosmic explosion, ripples of dark energy wash over the angels, as gas and dust merge into proto-stars surrounded by a proto-planetary disk.
It’s a juvenile planet in its infancy taking shape before our eyes. An atmosphere forms, solar winds capture matter in the planet’s orbit.
An atmospheric fog drapes over the skies, which are formless and empty. Darkness still covers most of creation.
There’s a loud boom, and a shaft of light pierces the pitch. The Sun breaks over the horizon of the planet for the first time and reveals Earth.
In its primeval glory, splotches of greens, browns, and blacks bisected by the watery blues, the surface stretches wide in the midst of the swirling cauldron of life, and a raised plateau of shimmering and swaying grass emerges from beneath the ground.
“We’re witnessing the Plains of Heaven,” Father Jerome explains.
It’s an endless peninsula studded with tawny steppe and prairie tall-grass. The grass rises and falls on a breeze, a dead-ringer for the rolling fields of Tuscany, and comprises a verdant land hemmed by other faraway swaths shrouded in pitch and semi-darkness.
It’s still a work in progress.
The angels begin soaring out over the Plains of Heaven.
“The Angels were given dominion over the Plains of Heaven and segregated into castes like humankind,” Father Jerome says.
The angels swoop down from on high until they’re weaving through the grass.
A very few have leathery wings. Most do not. Several have feathered wings. Some have aged faces, while others possess unblemished features. In sum, they look just like any other group of humans laboring in a massive operation.
Up close, the Sentients, a half-dozen figures with wings, creased faces, and sun-burnishes work in shifts, push the filaments that undergird the Plains of Heaven ever outward, and expand the Earth itself.
“There were the Sentients like Gabriel, the first created, and those who sat at the right hand of God, fulfilling His mandate,” Father Jerome explains.
Seraphim emerge out into the Plains of Heaven, visible on the woodcut. The Seraphim are striated, muscular overseers who direct the actions of other creatures.
“The Seraphim were breathed life next, overseeing the lower orders like the Cherubim who were given the most arduous tasks,” Father Jerome says.
The cherubim and the lower orders hunker down, doing the lion’s share of manual labor in trenches of amber grass.
Next to them are Heralds, bird-like creatures with tails and distended mouths singing to God, giving Him praise.
“Hosanna! Hosanna,” they sing. “Blessed are they who do the work of the Lord.”
“The angels and the lower orders were created without memory or sin,” Father Jerome continues. “All of them a form of perfect creation in a sense, save for one. Asmodeous.”
A solitary Cherubim turns his eyes upward from the trenches. His features are glorious and beautiful, slicked with golden sweat.
He grasps the worker’s tool, a Heaven-forged axe, in his hands as if it’s a weapon and sets his gaze on the Seraphim lording over him.
Then, he looks to the Sentients above them.
“He was an anomaly, an aberration of creation,” Father Jerome says. “Asmodeous was the first of the lower order to become self-aware.”
The Sentients and the Seraphim bark orders at Asmodeous and his fellow Cherubim.
Asmodeous’s eyes burn like hot coals, full of life and anger.
A Seraphim overseer soundlessly gesticulates to Asmodeous, urging him to continue his work.
“He was the first of the lower order to know anger and act upon it as well,” Father Jerome explains.
On the surface of the woodcut, Asmodeous lowers his tool as the Seraphim Overseer glides down into the trench, a stern taskmaster, forcefully urging him on.
Asmodeous drops to his knees as the Overseer berates him and gestures wildly.
“He was also the first to murder,” Father Jerome says in a whispered voice.
Asmodeous covers his face with his hands, gaping to the other Cherubim who won’t even hazard a look at him.
Asmodeous brings his tool, not that different from a medieval axe, up and into the abdomen of the Overseer, ripping his midsection wide open.
The Overseer lets out a gut-wrenching shriek, and angel blood sheets the ground.
The other angels, including the Cherubim, turn in silence, horrified, a million eyes locked on Asmodeous who’s pounced on by the rest of the Seraphim.
“He alone first stained the Kingdom of God and was brought before the Sentients to face punishment,” Father Jerome continues.
The images on the woodcut swirl and morph until they form into a different location.
Inside the Citadel, which is a massive and ethereal structure that rises on a knoll at the apex of the Plains of Heaven, several Sentients stand guard over the accused.
The open-air cathedral is segregated from a rear portion that houses a small temple shrouded with blue mist.
On all fours and at the feet of the Sentients, Asmodeous kneels, tethered by a sinewy straitjacket shaped cloak.
A herd of more Sentients encircle Asmodeous.
Gabriel is chief among them.
The Sentients soundlessly question Asmodeous with their looks of displeasure, testing him, judging him, and trying to understand what’s gone wrong.
Asmodeous doesn’t respond. He just glares daggers of rage at them, a demonic grin on his face.
“Unseen but heard, God Himself stepped in and laid down the judgment. It didn’t go the way most were expecting,” Father Jerome reveals. “The Creator was unwilling to destroy that which He had created. Instead, He cursed Asmodeous.”
On the woodcut, the Heavens open, and a fissure erupts. The light of a thousand stars knife down and blind Asmodeous.
Asmodeous contorts, screaming as his face is gripped in agony.
Once the judgment is finished, all semblance of perfection disappears. His mouth has been ripped crooked, his gums crack, razor-sharp teeth push out, armored scales line his body, and he lets out a soulless scream that echoes out of the Citadel and across the Plains of Heaven.
The shadow of God reaches down from the stratospheric fog of space, like an angry hurricane, and wrenches Asmodeous up, hurling him into the pitch.
“Asmodeous was cast into the outer darkness for a thousand years to peri
sh or repent of his sins,” Father Jerome says. “But that wasn’t his nature. He did neither. He stayed in the outer darkness, doing something entirely unexpected.”
On the woodcut, the outer darkness of Heaven swirls. In the darkened, outer reaches, a twisted face becomes visible.
Asmodeous runs through the pitch, staying clear of the light and keeping to the shadows.
He hides in the small spaces forgotten by the others.
He appears to run endlessly.
Then, other twisted creatures join alongside Asmodeous, shambling through the primordial morass.
“Instead of fading away, he measured his time,” Father Jerome says. “Breeding with others who were later cast out and spawning myriad abominations, all the while plotting his revenge, while not even fully realizing what that word means.”
The images on the woodcut grow still and return to the first visage of a Germanic, Albrecht Durer-like work of winged angels plunging into a massive hole in the ground.
As he gazes at the now-silent and motionless woodcut, Noah can’t help but reach out and touch the surface.
A slight spark causes Noah to blanch, but he doesn’t back away.
He touches it again. Nothing happens this time. His eyes pulse with eagerness and a yearning for knowledge.
“You wish me to stop?” Father Jerome asks. “Are you afraid?”
“Not in the slightest,” Noah says with the fervor of his mother. “It’s just that I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me.”
“When Asmodeous committed the first act of murder it altered the balance and set in motion events that would spill out of the Heavens. And the attendant story is as old as time itself, involving friendship, pride, treachery, loyalty, and ultimately salvation,” Father Jerome answers. “It has much to do with both of us.”
Noah nods in understanding as a gaggle of priests rush by in a state of panic.
Something’s wrong outside the cathedral.
“The time is near,” Father Jerome says.
“The time for what?” Noah asks.
“The war never ended,” Father Jerome answers. “The First Holy War was temporarily halted with an armistice. Lucifer was allowed dominion over Hell and Earth on the condition that he not enter the stars or Heaven. The Silver-Tongued Serpent is free to roam Hell and Earth, but his armies aren’t allowed out of Hell, so all his amassed strength has been built for naught, unless…”
“Unless what, Father?”
“Unless Lucifer can gather the five remaining keys that unlock the woodcuts and reveal the hidden location of Asmodeous at the edge of Heaven. Lucifer has already seen this one and one more. There are five others that he needs. Asmodeous is not bound by the armistice. He can break Lucifer’s armies free from Hell and lead them over the Earth and into Heaven. If the two of them can become one, we’re all fucked.”
Noah flinches at Father Jerome’s words. He’s never heard his mentor curse or even show the slightest hint of fear before, and neither have I.
It’s time for me to step out of the shadows. The last thing I want is for my Noah to get caught up in another battle between good and evil against his will.
“I’ve heard enough,” I say. “Keep your fairy tales to yourself, Father. My son and I are leaving.”
“You can’t,” Father Jerome begs. “Noah is the path to the locations of the remaining five keys. If they get their hands on him, God help us…”
“I was there at the First Holy War when Lucifer was cast down. I was there at the front of the line when Michael led on an invasion into Hell proper. I’ve never even heard of Asmodeous, let alone anything about seven keys that point the way to him. I think this is all something you wish were true,” I say, “as part of a thinly veiled attempt to prove that your lifetime spent researching obscure scrolls has all been worthwhile and you haven’t wasted your life.”
Father Jerome hangs his head.
“I wish that were true, Samya,” he says. “I do. But if you ignore the threat, the other side will prevail. Isn’t the fact that Lucifer is still trying to steal your son from you enough proof of his role in all this?”
“I disagree,” I say and place a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “They’re after him because he’s Nephilim.”
“That is true,” he admits, “but consider how much more powerful Lucifer will be if he has Asmodeous at his side when he breaks through the Pearly Gates. It is prophesied that the Devil will return and carry out a Second Holy War. Lucifer is not a Cherubim like Asmodeous. He was the most favored Seraphim. His power is greater than that of the first to sin. And Asmodeous is not barred from entry into Heaven. He has the right to return under the guise of redemption and repentance. It doesn’t have to be genuine, but he can use it to gain entry. This is not some fanciful conspiracy that I’ve concocted out of my research. We all know this to be true and inevitable.”
“Inevitable?” I ask. “The only thing that’s inevitable is that I’m going to slice through anyone who tries to harm my family. I. Will. End. Them.”
Father Jerome stumbles back at my booming words. He looks away, remembering that he’s in the company of an archangel who has slain countless enemies. He’d be wise not to forget it.
“We’re leaving,” I say and wheel around with Noah in tow.
“I want to hear more, mother,” Noah says.
“Not like this,” I reply. “We’ll talk about it. But we’re not doing the bidding of someone else. I’ve made that mistake more than once.”
“I believe your son is the only thing that can save us,” Father Jerome interjects. “Would you have multitudes of innocents bow down before the one who tried to take everything from you, the cause of all your suffering?”
I glare back over my shoulder. He’s asking for it.
“Last chance, Father,” I warn. “Either you don’t get in our way and make certain your guards don’t either, or I’ll be the one leaving this place in ruin.”
A concussive booming from outside interrupts our dispute.
I meet Father Jerome’s eyes.
“They’re coming,” he warns.
“I’m sure they are,” I reply. “But I have my bladed chain back where it belongs, and only a small portion of Lucifer’s armies are allowed on the surface of the Earth. Consider that I laid waste to everything he threw at me in Hell. It’ll be their mistake if they attack again.”
“The boy will light the path,” Father Jerome says, in one last cryptic plea.
A massive rumbling sends a quake rolling through the ground beneath us.
The Father is right about one thing. They are coming.
I don’t believe in his mystic story of Asmodeous, but if even one of Lucifer’s generals does, then I need to get my son the hell out of here and somewhere safe.
An explosion like a series of mortar rounds hitting the outer gates rocks the building.
It’s too late for us to escape quietly and sneak away. We’ll have to fight our way out.
It’s possible that I’m wrong, that the tale of Asmodeous is true, and Father Jerome’s fears will come true.
In this moment, though, I’m furious that his history lesson has put us in danger.
With Noah at my back, I rush headlong out of the cathedral to meet the demons in battle.
As I cress over the entrance and out into the pouring rain, my bladed chain whiplashes out of instinct slicing through two demonic figures.
That’s when I see that we have more to face than the two shadowy lurkers I spotted in the alley.
We’re face-to-face with an entire horde.
Other Books By Leighton Lawless
MONSTER M.D.
Even monsters need doctors.
Hieronymus ‘Jer’ Bennington isn’t your run-of-the-mill psychiatrist. Despite losing his parents to a monster attack, Jer believes there’s more to a person than the way they look and the horns protruding from their heads.
In the near-future, he offers therapy to monsters in no-man’s l
and, but when he gets entangled in a murder mystery conspiracy, he’s propelled into the sexy and dangerous underworld where the stuff of fantasies and nightmares coexist.
On his misadventure, he gives and seeks comfort as he and his monster harem of powerful women unravel a conspiracy that threatens an uneasy truce and launches him on a path to become more ferocious than any beast in the streets or the sheets.
Pun intended!
He fights with psychiatry, a keen eye, and truth that cuts deeper than any claws or fangs…for and against the monsters among us, both inside and out.
AGENTS OF THE CROWN
What do you get when you take classic Dickens characters, add harem and steampunk elements, and toss in the adrenaline-fueled action of a Guy Ritchie movie? You get this book!
Agents of the Crown is an over-the-top mashup that reimagines Scrooge and Marley as a pair of young, wisecracking ass kickers hunting down villains in steampunk Victorian London.
Back from fighting overseas on behalf of the East India Company, Scrooge and Marley discover that members of their old military unit are being assassinated.
At the same time, Scrooge’s personal demons are pitted against the ones he faces in the streets.
Granted broad powers by the Crown, the pair set out to recruit a small team to track down the infamous madman behind the murders, only to learn that he plans to destroy London before midnight on Christmas Eve.
Things you need to know:
Is the book a fresh take on an old classic?
Check!
Does the book contain scenes of mind-blowing action?
Check, check!
Does it feature a harem of powerful ladies, including monster-women?
Check, check, check!
If you’re over the age of 18 and like your mashup, harem supernatural thrillers on the steamy side, saddle up and take a ride with Agents of the Crown.
DEATH SUITS HER BOOK II LOST ANGEL
COMING SOON!
DEATH SUITS HER_A Supernatural Reverse Harem Romance Adventure Page 21