by C. S. Wilde
Blessed Fury
Angels of Fate - Book 1
C.S. Wilde
Copyright © 2018 by C.S. Wilde
ISBN: 978-1720047230
ASIN: B07HF5F2FG
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialog are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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To the people who know it’s impossible
and still do it anyway.
“Tell me, Ava, why do you think you’re here?”
the Angel of Death
1
Ava
The stench of stale beer and sweat invaded Ava’s nostrils as she moved toward the bar. A football game played on the screen behind the counter, but none of the three men populating the pub paid any attention to it.
The air inside was musty, old, and it only worsened as she approached the end of the room.
She passed by the first man, who sat in a booth on the left. He stared at nothing in particular, with a cry stuck midway in his throat and a half-empty jug of beer clutched in his hand. The bad lighting drenched half of him in shadows, making it seem like darkness was swallowing him.
He didn’t notice Ava because she had masked her presence before entering. She wasn’t exactly invisible. Humans could see her if they focused hard enough, but they rarely did.
Ava made a mental note to check up on that poor soul if she had the chance, her Guardian instincts urging her to help. He was clearly suffering, but she was here for a reason, and the reason was not that man. So she went back to the task at hand.
The wooden floor creaked as she approached the bar. The bartender, an old man with white hair and a face marred by deep wrinkles, cleaned a dirty glass from behind the counter.
She wasn’t here for him, either.
The last man sat hunched at the edge of the counter. Well, he wasn’t exactly a man. According to his file, he was a Selfless, an angel whose memories had been wiped out so he could be reborn as a human—standard procedure, considering centuries of memories could overload a human brain.
She stopped by his side and sat on the red padded stool to his left. The seat’s ripped leather grazed the white fabric of her bodysuit, scratching her thighs.
The man was hunched over, so she couldn’t see much of him except for his strong build and dark hair. He took a long gulp of his drink and didn’t acknowledge her presence for a while.
So she waited.
“Archie isn’t dead yet,” he finally said, his voice rough like a cement wall.
“I do belie—”
“He’s not dead,” the man repeated, his attention solely on what was left of his whiskey.
She took a deep breath. “I know, Liam.” She used her Guardian voice, the calm, soothing tone to which she had grown accustomed. It was how she talked to her charges, how every guardian angel spoke, actually. Using the same serene tone.
Liam turned to Ava, his brow furrowed and his lips twisted, and for a moment too quick to count, she lost her breath. Ava had seen his photo on file, but the live version of him was brutally handsome. Liam was a cool wind on a summer morning and a thunder waiting to crack. His features were all sharp angles and fierce lines, but his eyes … Ava had never seen eyes like those. Rough emeralds cut with razor-sharp precision, almost like crystalline water, if water were green.
“Don’t call me by my name,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “You don’t know me.”
“You’re right, and I apologize.” She patted her thighs as if she were fixing the apron of an invisible dress. “I only read your file, but I’d like to get to know you, Liam.”
“You’re a Guardian,” he scoffed and took a sip of his drink.
“I am,” she said, ignoring the contempt in his tone. “However, the word the Messenger used when he assigned you as my charge was ‘temporary partner’.”
“You’re not my partner,” he barked through tight lips. “Archie is.”
“I’m not here to replace Archibald, Liam.”
He glared at her, certainly because she had used Archibald’s name and his. This seemed to be a sensitive matter to her new charge, so she calmly added, “I can't replace your partner. No one can.” Ava extended her hand to him. “I’m Ava, by the way. And I’m here to help.”
He studied her from head to toe, almost as if he were seeing her for the first time. The fury in his eyes waned a little, giving way to something softer.
Ava blushed and looked down, focusing on the long curls of her strawberry-blonde hair that cascaded over her Guardian bodysuit. Her tresses almost reached the white linen kilt tied around her waist.
Instead of shaking her waiting hand, Liam turned back to his glass and finished his drink. “No hard feelings, Ava, but how’s a fucking Guardian supposed to help me? Especially one who looks like some damsel in distress?”
“I do not—” She stopped herself. Ava knew better than to argue with a new charge. She was here to offer help, not cause friction.
Liam waved to the bartender, who quickly approached and poured him more whiskey. The side-glance the old man gave him silently called Liam crazy for speaking to himself. It must be odd for him, seeing a man muttering to empty space, but if Ava revealed herself, it would raise questions the bartender wasn’t prepared to have.
She studied Liam. Ava’s charges were often lost and angry, like the Selfless beside her. It took a lot of understanding and patience to help them. But would it be enough?
The Selfless had a reputation for being tough, especially considering their line of work. Assigned to precincts, they kept vampires and werewolves in check, and occasionally the lower-grade demon too. Being strong was less of a choice and more of a necessity for them.
Getting through to Liam wasn’t going to be easy.
“I understand this is unorthodox,” she said.
Guardians like Ava spread the love of the Gods; they never inflicted pain. Considering the Selfless’ line of work, another Selfless, or at least a warrior angel, might’ve been a better choice for a partner. But Ava never questioned her orders, especially if they came directly from the Messenger.
“I suppose,” she continued, “that the Messenger sent me here because a Guardian might offer you great solace through difficult times. Perhaps this is exactly what you need.”
Liam slammed his glass on the counter and leaned toward her like a bull about to charge. His breath hit her skin, but the scent of alcohol wasn’t as pungent as she expected.
“I don’t need solace. I need answers,” he said, baring his teeth. “And Archie will be fine.”
The bell above the door jingled as a tall, slim figure entered the pub. He wore a black fedora, along with a black shirt and pants. A man clothed in shadows. His cheeks were sunken, his pale skin covered in green veins, but the worst were his eyes—pitch-black orbs that held no hint of white.
The bartender and the man at the booth didn’t notice the demon, which meant the creature, much like Ava, had masked its presence.
The demon glanced sideways at Ava and Liam as it strolled across the pub, but when it spotted the melancholic man in
the red-padded booth, it shot him a sharp-toothed grin. The demon tipped its hat off to them and walked to the man.
The creature sat across from the poor soul and whispered words Ava couldn’t understand. Shadows flowed from its lips, dancing in the air before they wrapped around the man’s face. The man let out a whimper or two before bursting in loud sobs.
Ava immediately stood, but Liam grabbed her arm. “This is the real world, princess.” He nodded to the demon. “Obsessors are way too low on the food chain. Not worth the hassle.”
She wanted to slap Liam, first because of the condescending way he had called her princess, and second, because technically she was also “way too low on the food chain.”
Instead of using unnecessary violence, Ava swallowed her outrage and let the love of the Gods flood through her. “Guardians bring solace and comfort to our charges. Those things …” She pointed to the demon, trying to steady her shaky hands. Apparently, the need for violence was still there, pushing to get out. “They destroy what we do.”
“Ava, let it go,” he ordered more than said.
She probably should’ve obeyed the experienced Selfless who had done this his entire life, but Ava’s purpose was to help all creatures of the Gods regardless of the hassle.
She jerked her arm free and walked to the demon. “Be gone, foul creature,” she ordered, slamming both hands on her waist.
There, that should be enough to scare it.
The demon laughed. “What a pretty little angel you are.” It licked its dark lips with a wine colored tongue. “I’d like to have fun with you.”
She balled her fists and stepped closer to the sobbing man. She whispered in his ear all the love the Gods had for him, her words glittering wisps of light that soaked into the man’s skin. Slowly, he stopped crying, and a hint of a smile brushed his lips.
The demon slammed its veiny hands on the table. “He’s not yours!”
Ava didn’t flinch, didn’t step back, even though every part of her urged her to do so. “Leave,” she ordered with a tone weaker than she had intended.
Liam walked to the booth and lifted the side of his black leather jacket, revealing a bulky holy gun placed in a shoulder holster. Just below the gun, attached to the black belt that circled his waist, was a sheathed longsword.
The sword’s silver hilt was carved into a wolf’s face, its eyes two blue gems, and the cross-guard formed wolf claws. The weapon sent tingles through Ava’s essence, which meant the blade had been blessed.
A Selfless could use an array of weapons, such as holy guns, sun daggers, sometimes even bows and arrows, but a blessed sword? That was reserved for ascended angels only—certainly not for lower angels like Ava or a Selfless like Liam. Still, she was glad to see a blessed weapon, especially in a moment like this.
“Do we have a problem here?” Liam asked the demon, one dark eyebrow raised.
The crying man shot Liam a confused stare as he wiped tears from his cheeks. “Are you talking to me?”
The poor soul had no idea what was happening, given Ava and the demon still masked their essences.
The demon glared at Liam, completely ignoring the sword and the gun. “He’s mine.” Its voice turned into a mix of baritones and screeches, as if several people were speaking, yelling, chanting at the same time. “Mine, mine, mine!”
Liam rolled his clear green eyes at Ava. “Look what you’ve done, princess.”
The demon seized in his seat, vomiting black blobs that stank of sulfur. The blobs quickly covered all of its body, eating at skin and bone, melting the demon’s flesh into a puddle.
Four dark figures rose from the black goo, thorny shadows with shiny yellow eyes and sharp teeth.
It wasn’t just one demon. It was several.
They placed themselves between the back of the pub and the door, blocking the exit.
The sound of shattered glass came from behind Ava and Liam. The bartender was gaping and breathing erratically, his mouth half open in an upcoming scream that never came. The man in the booth looked equally terrified. The demons weren’t bothering to mask their essences anymore.
The crying man scrambled out of the booth and ran toward the bar, since there was no way he could reach the door without passing by the demons.
“Soon darkness will spread,” one of the creatures said with a high-pitched tune.
“—and your precious Order will fall,” another continued with a low baritone.
“Same old bullshit.” Liam withdrew a sun dagger from his belt and handed it to Ava. “This will be fun.” He unsheathed his sword, and it gleamed faintly against the darkness of the bar. He acquired a defensive stance. “Can Guardians fight?”
Not really, but the demons didn’t wait for her answer. They bolted at them, crawling on the walls like spiders made of shadows. Two demons focused on Ava, and two focused on Liam. Their thorny spider legs drummed a fast-paced tick, tick, tick on the wooden walls.
Ava gathered her holy essence atop her skin, creating an invisible shield over her body, but she wouldn’t be able to maintain it for long. Her heart banged against her ribcage, and a cold sweat bloomed on her forehead.
Confronting the demons had been a big mistake. She hadn’t fought with swords or daggers since her initiation, a hundred years ago, and even then, she had only learned the basics.
Soon those creatures would rip her throat open with their spiky claws, and there wasn’t much she could do to put up a fight.
The Order prepared me for this, she thought, trying to remember her first lessons.
Ava balanced her stance and took a defensive position. She closed her eyes and locked her fear somewhere deep within her. Tick, tick, tick … When she opened her eyes, the first demon was jumping at her, followed by the second. Without thinking, she drew a circle in the air with the dagger Liam had given her.
A dark lump that used to be the first creature’s arm fell on the floor, oozing black liquid.
Yes!
The creature stopped and stared at its fallen arm, then at its befuddled companion. Both demons opened their jaws like pythons ready to engulf their prey, their furious shrieks piercing through Ava’s ears. She hardened her shield right before the demons leapt at her with a vengeance.
“It’s gonna get messy!” Liam’s voice came from her left, and then a blue blast burst the first demon’s head into a thousand pieces. Splatters of black blood rained down on her, sliding down the invisible shield that layered her skin.
The inky remains of the demon thumped on the floor.
The second demon stopped and stepped back, almost as if it couldn’t believe its companion was dead. Then it shrieked in anger before jumping at her, its clawed hands aimed at Ava, but the angle … it was too high. The demon wasn’t jumping toward her, it was jumping over her.
And it landed behind the bar. Where the two humans were hiding.
Heavens, no!
To her left, a demon shrieked as Liam split it in half with his sword. Liam wielded the blade in his right hand and the holy gun in the left. And just like that, with only one hand, one blow, he’d cut a demon in two.
The two sides of the creature fell apart as easily as warm bread slices caving to gravity.
The second demon ran for the door, but Liam lifted his holy gun and closed one eye. A blue blast shot from the muzzle, and the demon’s head exploded. The headless body fell on its thorny knees.
When Ava turned back to the bar, the crying man stood there with his arms crossed. His eyes were completely rolled over, his skin a sickening mix of white flesh and green veins.
“We’ll dessstroy the humans you love ssso much, Guardian,” the man said, his voice a continuous hiss.
A bitter sensation flooded her mouth. The man hadn’t been her charge, and yet, Ava felt as if she’d failed him.
“We have a problem,” she muttered.
Liam stepped by her side and shrugged. “I call it a normal day at the office.”
He sheathed his blade and pla
ced the holy gun in his holster. He then pulled a tiny golden necklace from his neck which held a pendant that formed a triangle within a circle—the symbol of the Gods.
How hadn’t she noticed that necklace before?
“I do hate exorcisms,” he grunted.
The possessed man walked away from the bar and licked his lips, almost as if challenging him to make the first move. Liam jumped at him, but the demon sent a swarm of buzzing darkness in his direction.
The Selfless swatted at the darkness, grunting something between annoyance and exasperation. Ava could barely see him through the buzzing pitch black.
The demon strolled slowly toward Liam, ready to strike a deathly blow while he was distracted.
In all the madness, Ava had dropped her sun dagger. She had only one option left, so she let her essence flood her from inside, tendrils of light that coated her neurons and connected with her thoughts. She stretched her hand toward a table, and with her mind, she flung it toward the possessed man. It wouldn’t hurt him, since the possessed bore a great deal of strength, but at least it would distract the demon.
The damned thing bent his spine in a ninety-degree angle at the last minute. The wooden surface passed by the man’s nose, missing it by an inch.
“Heavens,” Ava grunted to herself, her head pounding.
Telekinesis wasn’t inherent to Guardians. Only Erudites mastered the skill, and using it was painful. Ava’s bones felt like they were rusting, and she had to focus not to fall on the floor.
The man’s neck craned unnaturally to the left. He stared at her with a mad smile. “Interesting …”
While the demon focused on her, Liam stalked behind him like a panther—how he had gotten rid of the shadows, she didn’t know. He punched the man’s spine straight before locking him in a stronghold, then slammed the pendant on the creature’s forehead.
Smoke hissed from the man’s skin, and the demon shrieked in pain. He cursed Liam in a thousand ancient languages, but the Selfless held on.