Addictive Paranormal Reads Halloween Box Set

by Nana Malone

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SheilaMSeabrook

  Twitter: @SheilaSeabrook

  Website: www.sheilaseabrook.com.

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  More Exciting Stories by Sheila Seabrook

  From the Bandit Creek Books

  Fool’s Gold Anthology

  Baby Fever

  From the Bandit Creek Books

  A Romantic Comedy

  A Wedding Fever

  From the Rocky Mountain Romance Books

  Always Remember

  Terms of Surrender

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  * * * * *

  Hanging with the Angel of Death

  Anna Erishkigal

  ~ Angel of Death: A Love Story ~

  Our journey through the neighborhood of the paranormal ends as it always does for mere mortals, at the house of Anna Erishkigal (named for the ancient Mesopotamian goddess of the underworld). Rumor has it she is on good terms with that dark, hooded spectre she's fondly nicknamed, 'Marshmallow Angel.' Her underworldly abode always has the good candy, an apology for the unmowed grass and man-eating greenbriar that reaches up to grab you as you ring the doorbell.

  Halloween is a festival even more ancient than All Hallow's Eve or the pre-Christian celebration of Samhuinn. The ancient Sumerians believed 'Akitu' was the time of year when the veil between the worlds was the thinnest. If you left an offering to your ancestors or the ancient heroes, they would carry your pleas to the ears of the gods and ask them to look favorably upon you for the coming year. Not only is this ancestor/hero-worship the roots of the ritual we now know as trick-or-treating, but it is also our earliest known encounters with the beings we now call 'angels.'

  So … as you visit this last house in the neighborhood of Addictive Reads, please take a nice big handful of candy from the bowl and, as you eat it, please make a wish. Who knows? Perhaps those ancient heroes known as angels will hear you?

  Be Epic!

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  Back Cover Synopsis

  Azrael Thanatos wants nothing more than to follow in the footsteps of his scientist mother. Sent to study humans on a wager between the Eternal Emperor and Shay'tan, he has no idea Earth is gateway to a fiery prison. Far from home, he is befriended by Elissar, a precocious child with silver eyes. When Moloch instigates the invasion of Carthage to escape, Azrael sacrifices his life to snatch his friend from the Devourer of Children's maw.

  Saved by a mysterious goddess, Azrael is given a new mission. Watchman. Roaming the Earth without shape or form, he searches for those who would help Moloch escape and drags them to a prison where only Lucifer holds the key. It's a hellish immortality, for who wants to serve alongside the Fallen or exist when no living creature can survive your touch. Haunted by Elissar's death, he despairs of never finding love or friendship again as time grinds civilizations into dust. For who would love Death?

  Then one day a child takes his hand and lives…

  Life for Elisabeth is not easy. The Angel of Death took her entire family the night a drunk driver plowed through a stop sign and left her in a wheel chair. Azrael is forbidden to interfere as she bounces through foster homes, hardship and grueling rehabilitation. Then one day he is forced to reveal he is not a figment of her imagination. Oh, how she hates this angel who has taken everyone she has ever loved! She will beat him if she has to squeeze the life force from her own body! The invasion of Iraq inspires her to join the Army as a trauma nurse, unaware that Death has fallen in love with the woman who can defeat him.

  Will she take his hand a second time?

  (Navigation Stars)

  * * * * *

  Angel of Death: A Love Story

  Anna Erishkigal

  Published by Seraphim Press, P.O. Box 440, East Sandwich, Cape Cod, Massachusetts 02537-0440, (508) 888-5392

  Copyright 2013 Anna Erishkigal

  All Rights Reserved

  Published via a temporary license for the purposes of this boxed set via Addictive Reads

  Electronic Edition: eISBN-13: 978-0-9854896-3-2

  eISBN-10: 0-9854896-3-4

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the distributor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters and events portrayed in this novel are products of the authors’ imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarities to any person, living or dead, are purely unintentional.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  Cover photo: ‘Angel of Death.’ Copyright 2012 by ~xartez. All rights reserved. No part of this cover art may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the artist.

  http://xartez.deviantart.com/art/Angel-of-Death-35266069

  * * * * *

  This book is a work of adult fiction. It contains subject matter some people may find upsetting, including death in all of its incarnations, tragic historical depictions of human sacrifice and torture (including child sacrifice and Jesus's crucifixion), rape, war and all the inherently unpleasant things which go with that topic, moderately graphic depictions of wartime surgery and injuries, sex, and creative reinterpretations of religious ideologies some people may find offensive or blasphemous.

  Some people, especially devoutly religious ones or survivors of the wars in Afghanistan or Iraq, may find portions of this book to be upsetting.

  If this book were a movie, it would be rated R.

  * * * * *

  Dedication

  I dedicate this book to the unsung heroes of war, the medics, trauma nurses and military doctors who forsake high-paying careers at home to keep the men and women of our armed forces alive … while under fire.

  Thank you!

  * * * * *

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’d like to thank the people without whose support this novel would have died a plot bunny hopping around on a hard drive.

  To my wonderful husband … who tolerates my nocturnal writing bouts and strange musings about ‘I can’t talk now … my bad guy is talking to me…’

  To my lovely children … who instead of asking 'mom … why are you listening to the same song over and over again' on a car trip instead ask, 'mom … tell us about the scene you're writing today?'

  To Cindy Leppard Green, who helped beta read and provided invaluable grammatical support (not my strong point)! Thank you so much!

  To my writing critique group, Plot Bunnies and Edit Demons, who provide that invaluable feedback and social support that you don't get anyplace else! And special thanks to the B and N in Hyannis that hosts us every week … and Jules for setting up our favorite table!

  To ~xartez, who kindly let me use his photograph of the Wjortez Angel of Death as the basis of my cover. I hope readers will visit his deviant arts page and view his other works at http://xartez.deviantart.com/art/Angel-of-Death-35266069

  To Sensei Donna and my fellow karate students at the Feisty Lion USA Gojudo Karate studio in Wareham who’ve tolerated my conscripting classes into live re-enactments of battle scenes so I can reality test the action.

  To my patient friends, who tolerate my launching into conversations about fictional characters that do not really exist and do not call the police when I fade off mid-sentence and mumble ‘excuse me … I have to go home and kill somebody now…’

  And to all my fellow authors at the WG2E who've given me education, encouragement, a sanity check, and support. T
hank you!

  * * * * *

  Part I

  Whoever he be …

  That gives any of his seed unto Moloch;

  He shall surely be put to Death:

  The people of the land shall

  Stone him with stones.

  And I will set my face

  Against that man,

  And will cut him off

  From among his people;

  Because he hath given of his seed

  Unto Moloch,

  To defile my sanctuary,

  And to profane my holy name.

  Leviticus 20:2-3

  * * * * *

  Prologue

  And the Lord said unto Satan,

  Hast thou considered my servant Job?

  That there is none like him on Earth?

  A perfect and upright man…

  Then Satan answered the Lord, and said …

  Put forth thine hand now,

  And touch all that he hath,

  And he will curse thee to thy face.

  Job 1:8-11

  Galactic Standard Date: 155,525.07 AE

  Ascended Realms

  “Black pawn to E-8.”

  Shay'tan shifted a black pawn representing some hapless mortal into position to overtake one of the Eternal Emperor's seed worlds. His tail twitched like a cat stalking a mouse as he waited to see what his ancient adversary would do.

  The Eternal Emperor Hashem yawned.

  "Oh, sorry…" Hashem clapped his hand over his mouth and grabbed the nearest chess piece, a small, white pawn, as he pondered his next move.

  “Does something trouble you, old friend?” Shay’tan craned his serpentine neck across the chessboard. “You seem rather lethargic lately. Are you ill?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Hashem twiddled with the pawn. “Things have been going so well since we signed the Armistice.”

  The two old gods stared across the chessboard, united in their complete and utter boredom. Technically the enormous spinning replica of the galaxy was a map delineating what territory belonged to which old god's empire, but the two had gotten into the habit of using it for a game they called Galactic Chess. Each solar system was a square, and within those squares, planets could be played for by moving their resources against one another. Despite millennia of playing, the two were in a perpetual stalemate.

  “Things have been rather dull," Shay'tan commiserated. "Nobody ever warns you when you become a god how tedious eternity can be." The old dragon flared his leathery wings like a raptor about to pounce upon a prey animal. "Perhaps we could start a border war?"

  "Tempting, you old devil," Hashem yawned again. "But my subjects would never stand for it. You give them free will and what do they do? They vote you're nothing but a ceremonial god!"

  "No respect!" Shay'tan belched a puff of fire. "It's almost enough to make you long for the good old days when they let us amuse ourselves by going after one another all the time."

  "Never-ending war!"

  "Pitting our armies against one another to prove which god's vision of the universe is right!"

  “Epic battles!" Hashem exclaimed. "With Moloch on the prowl!”

  Shay'tan touched his forehead, snout, and heart in the same gesture he made his subjects use to worship him.

  “Don’t even -say- that name!!! It’s all Lucifer can do to keep the bastard locked up in Gehenna!”

  Hashem snorted.

  “I told you to never mention that name to me again!”

  "Who? Moloch?"

  "No! That other … name!" Hashem crossed his arms in front his chest and glowered at his ancient adversary.

  Shay'tan picked up a black bishop and examined it. A prince. His prince ever since Hashem had spurned the piece and cast it off. Much to Hashem's chagrin, Shay'tan shielded Lucifer from his wrath because he owed a debt, and everyone knew that dragons always paid their debts.

  “Lucifer is your son," Shay'tan said softly. "Isn’t it time you forgave him? It could have been one of us Moloch seized.”

  “Never!!!” Hashem waggled his finger at Shay’tan’s snout. “This is the one and only time I will ever admit you were right about humanoid nature! No good deed goes unpunished!”

  “True,” Shay’tan toyed with the black bishop. “But there was nothing altruistic about your raising Lucifer to be your son. He was just another one of your experiments into the Seraphim gene pool.”

  “I raised that boy as though he were my own!” Hashem slammed his fist down upon the chess board. “And he thanked me by trying to steal my empire! He should be the one locked up in Gehenna!”

  Shay'tan raised one eyebrow ridge with a bemused expression.

  “For a god who preaches forgiveness,” Shay’tan rumbled. “You sure know how to hold a grudge.”

  Hashem turned away, arms crossed. A rare scowl marred the face he took great pains to manifest as a kindly, fatherly one.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Shay’tan put the black bishop back where it belonged … banished where it could do no further harm. “Let’s pick a random subject and bet on how we think they’re going to react. Whoever bets the closest, wins.”

  Hashem absent-mindedly rolled the white pawn he'd been toying with between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Wins what?”

  “How about that resource planet we keep squabbling over?" Shay'tan's snout turned up in a toothy grin. "If I win, you'll let me pillage it. If you win, you can turn it into a protected seed world to see what evolves."

  Hashem tossed the white pawn into the air and caught it again; his bushy eyebrows furrowed in thought as he examined the map of the galaxy.

  "Who will we bet on and what will we get them to do?”

  “Why not that pawn you're holding in your hand?” Shay’tan pointed to the piece Hashem toyed with. “Who does that represent, anyway?”

  “Oh ... hah!” Hashem exclaimed. “The little scientist I’ve been nurturing! His mother is a fierce proponent of hands-off natural evolution.”

  “What would happen if you sidetracked him from the science academy for a year and stuck him in the military?” A knowing grin lit up Shay'tan's snout. “Get him out of the ivory tower, so to speak. I’ll bet you that planet you want that if you throw him into the real world, he won’t be so hands-off.”

  “He’s just a boy.” Hashem studied the pawn. “Barely seventeen cycles. I’d need to send him to basic training so he doesn’t get himself killed.”

  “You’re his god,” Shay’tan tempted. “Tell him you're sending him on a secret mission to Earth to watch them go at each other.”

  “Earth?" Hashem glanced at the accursed black bishop. "You know the terms of the Armistice. No one goes in, and no one comes out unless they ascend out of there on their own power. Even if we agree, Lucifer will never stand for it."

  "You're entitled to one observer," Shay'tan said. "Pull out your regular guy, stick your pawn in, and then one year from now our wager will end. Lucifer will be none the wiser."

  Hashem toyed with the little white pawn.

  "I don’t even know what’s going on right now," Hashem groused. "Human behavior baffles my observers and the General is too busy to babysit them.”

  “Why it’s war, of course,” Shay’tan smirked. “Warlike little buggers, those humans. The Phoenicians wage war against the Carthaginians; the Carthaginians battle the Sicilians; the Sicilians harass the Romans and the Romans are at war with the Phoenicians."

  “So we’ll, what? Pick a war?” Hashem said. “Drop our guy into the middle of it? And then what? Tell him he can’t interfere?”

  “Exactly,” Shay’tan's gold reptilian eyes sparkled with excitement. “Only we’ll … I don’t know. Up the ante. How about this? The first thing that bothers him enough to report back to his commanding officer, you’ll order him to observe and not interfere. No matter what! If he breaks protocol, I win. If he lets the subject go down in flames, you win.”

  Hashem looked down at the pawn in his hand. A budd
ing scientist who would one day further the interests of his Alliance. A young man with a unique genetic profile he had gone through enormous lengths to procure. A subject who might be tainted by the knowledge Hashem had been forced to come out of his ivory tower and eat his hat when it came to humans and the malignant deity imprisoned within their home world; knowledge both emperors had gone out of their way to erase from the history books and deny.

  On the other hand, Hashem was so bored he wanted to scream…

  “It’s a bet,” Hashem said. “White pawn to Zulu-3.”

  He plunked the little white pawn down into the middle of the chess pieces guarding Earth.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 1

  And the daughter of Tyre

  Shall be there with a gift;

  Even the rich among the people

  Shall entreat thy favor.

  The King's daughter is all glorious within;

  Her clothing is of wrought gold.

  Psalm 45:12-13

  Earth: 311 BC – Carthage

  Death from above. That’s how the 101st Angelic Air Force 'screaming eagles' thought of themselves. Avenging angels sent in whenever the Emperor needed to hit the enemy hard and hold ground until the Alliance military could establish a base. Cannon fodder to flock from the sky and be ground up and spat out by the enemy. It was funny how staring death in the face made you appreciate the little things in life, such as Mom’s terrible attempts at home-cooked meals instead of using the replicator, or the way his pesky little sister rifled through his things and followed him around like a shadow. Especially his little sister…