by Michael Todd
HIS NAME IS LEGION
WAR OF THE ANGELS™ BOOK SEVEN
MICHAEL TODD MICHAEL ANDERLE LAURIE STARKEY
His Name Is Legion (this book) is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2019 Michael Todd, Michael Anderle, and Laurie Starkey
Cover by Ryn Katryn Digital Art
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
LMBPN Publishing
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First US edition, April 2019
CONTENTS
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
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
Connect with Michael Todd
Books by Michael Todd
Books written as Michael Anderle
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1
Although the demons were gone, Rio was still very much in disarray. Troops scoured the city looking for any signs of survivors. The lava had hardened, and although that was a good thing, it made it nearly impossible to get into areas where the housing had collapsed. If there was anyone in there who had found a bubble or a catacomb to hide from the magma, they were basically entombed. That was probably one of the hardest things for the soldiers and mercenaries to deal with, and they did everything in their power to not think about it.
Katie and Pandora kept as good a watch over things as possible, but their time was growing short. There were other places they needed to be, including New York, where there were demons and Damned running amuck through the shadows and alleys. They knew, though, that they would be back as soon as they could, and that they were only two, compared to the millions who needed their help.
Down through Rio de Janeiro, past the streets and coffee shops, past the shopping and touristy locations where the echoes of laughter and excitement still hung like a deep, thick fog, haunting the town, was a small suburban neighborhood. They were nice homes, nicer than the slums, at least, but they were nowhere near the luxury of the rich. Then again, how could they be? The rich sequestered themselves behind bars and walls to keep the poor and moderate out of their presence.
Three streets into the quaint neighborhood and four houses on the right was a blue home with black shutters. The whole neighborhood had basically been destroyed, if not by the tidal wave of lava that washed through, then by the demons destroying their very lives as they hid, weeping, in the corners. The blue house, though, was not completely gone. The roof had collapsed, and it had begun to fall in on itself.
“Hello?” a small voice cried. “Is there anyone out there?”
Isabella, a short eleven-year-old girl with long, silken dark-brown hair and crystal-blue eyes, sighed, squinted at the cracks above her that permitted streaming beams of light through them. Home alone, her brother had grabbed her and taken her down to the basement to hide after they heard the news about the incursion from neighbors who were fleeing. When huge demons had plowed through, it had knocked the three-story house down on them, creating a cave of rubble. Her brother, trying to shield her during the collapse, had fallen victim to several tumbling slabs of concrete that had landed on one of his legs.
The little girl hopped down and grabbed her bookbag off the ground, the only thing she had with her. She reached in and pulled out a Fanta, then popped the can open and crouched, shuffling on her knees toward her brother. She put her hand under his head and lifted it slightly. “Here, drink some of this,” she whispered to him. “It’s the only thing we have, and it’s the last one.”
Her brother roused enough to get it down, but at that point, he was barely conscious. Isabella whimpered, putting down the can of soda and wrapping her arms around her shoulders. As a tear fell down her cheek, voices whispered above them. Isabella looked straight up, eyes piercing the rays of light, and watching as someone above dragged their feet, knocking small pebbles and dust into her cave.
“I can lift it myself,” one of the voices said pointedly.
The other voice snapped back at her, “It might collapse. We will do it together.”
The first voice grumbled defiantly. “Ugh, why? You are being a glory hog again about something that isn’t glorious.”
A stone hit the floor above Isabella and the second voice snipped in irritation, “Fine, Mom. Whatever. God, such a Nervous Nancy.”
The first voice grumped, “Don’t call me Nancy.”
Katie was standing above the rubble pile, looking around for any clue as to how bad the damage to the humans trapped below was. Pandora stopped in front of a huge slab of concrete, the one that seemed to be the culprit behind the implosion of the building. They each took a side, grunting as they used their angel energy reserve to lift it from the rubble and then leap up, beating their wings as hard as they could.
Isabella put her arm up, squinting as dust fell around her and the sun burst into the space. She was covered in dirt and grime and had smears of black soot across her cheeks and forehead. Small bright-red cuts ran across her filthy skin, but nothing too severe. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw the familiar faces of Katie and Pandora. By that point, there wasn’t a soul on Earth who didn’t know them.
The little girl gasped and hurried over to her brother, dropping to her knees next to him. She pushed on her brother’s chest. “Manuel, wake up. They have come to save us. Manuel.”
She bit the inside of her lip, looking around for anything that would help her wake him, but there was nothing. Her mother’s voice floated through her head, and she remembered the many times over the last few years she had raised her voice to Isabella’s brother to get his attention because, despite being her protector, he was also a normal teen.
Turning back to him, she began to yell in Portugue
se. “Manuel Oliver Ortega, acorde. Acorde agora! Eles vieram para nos salvar. Voce proeteu que ficaria comigo!”
Isabella grunted loudly when her brother only groaned, not opening his eyes. Behind her, Katie landed. “Hi, there. Don’t be scared.”
Isabella turned to Katie with a sad look on her face. “I am not scared. I am never scared. My brother, he is trapped, and he needs help.”
Katie walked over and knelt, putting her hand on Isabella’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We will help you both.”
Pandora grunted. “If you get over here this century.”
Katie winked at Isabella as she stood and walked over. “You want me to lift or grab?”
Pandora glanced down at the guy. “Normally I’m all about grabbing, but this one looks like he might need a gentler touch. I’ll lift, you get him out of here. Take him to the hospital, and I’ll follow you with the mini-badass back there.”
Katie rubbed her hands together and crouched, waiting for the boulder to be lifted. She didn’t know how long Pandora would be able to hold it, so she wanted to be ready to get him out of there. Pandora puffed out her cheeks and squatted like a sumo wrestler, wrapping her arms around the slab of concrete. She grunted and lifted; this one was heavier than the last. Katie lunged forward, scooped him up as gently as she could, and took off.
Pandora dropped the slab, waving the dust from in front of her face. She glanced at the little girl, who was just staring at her. Sniffing, Pandora cleared her throat before she turned and got down on one knee, looking over her shoulder. “All right, kid, get on. Let’s get you to the hospital. You have a brother to look after.”
The girl jumped slightly as Pandora’s long wings folded all the way out. Slowly her mouth curled into a smile and she ran, hopping onto Pandora’s back and wrapping her legs around her waist. Pandora took off, reaching up with a gasp and adjusting Isabella’s arm so it was a little less tight around her neck. “Relax, kid. I’m not a flying squirrel. Don’t have to hold on for dear life.”
The girl giggled and Pandora smirked, and they headed after Katie.
“The key to it is, you have to brush a lot of the sauce over it and let it sink into the massaged meat,” Juntto explained to the group of Brazilian police standing around him. “The meat of a lion can be a fickle thing. Where I come from, we don’t have lions like your Earth ones, but we have a creature very similar in stature called a ‘larimore.’”
One of the cops, his eyes narrowed and his head tilted, was slightly confused. “I don’t think they eat lions on this planet.”
Juntto shook his head. “I understand your concern, and initially I thought the same. When I came here, I was shocked there was no lion meat in the grocer. I thought you just didn’t eat them, but there is actually USDA certified lion meat that you can purchase in the United States, and there are people everywhere who either eat it or have tried it. Most think it is unpalatable, but that is because they don’t know how to cook it.”
Another cop wrinkled his nose. “My wife would kill me if I started eating lion.”
The other guys chuckled, nodding their heads. Juntto scratched his chin. “Come to think of it, my girlfriend might do the same. Either way, that is the next show scheduled for Cooking with Juntto. I’m just glad you guys agreed to bring me some local recipes. International cooking at its best: recipes right from the source.”
Sousa, one of the longer-term cops, reached in his pocket and handed Juntto a folded piece of paper. “This is my favorite cheese bread recipe. Bread’s made from scratch, too.”
Oliveira, a rookie, handed his over. “This is a family recipe for feijoada, a stew we love to eat. If you make it on your show, I would appreciate you give the Oliveira family, especially my Avó, a shout out. She will be thrilled. She thinks you’re very handsome.”
Juntto grinned. “That’s so sweet. Avó…what?”
Oliveira beamed. “Avó Marietta Oliveira. Actually, would you mind signing an autograph? I would become her favorite of her twenty-three grandchildren.”
“Of course,” Juntto replied, the excitement of his small-time fame bubbling over.
Katie and Pandora, after dropping Isabella and her brother at the makeshift hospital in the rich neighborhood, circled the area and spied Juntto below. They landed next to him and lifted their eyebrows as he signed papers, magazines, and even a shoe for the Brazilian police and others.
Three twenty-something girls came up, all of them whispering and giggling. Two of them nudged the third, who nervously walked up to Pandora. “My name is Francisca, and my friends and I were wondering if you would sign some things for us. We are big fans. We started a Pandora fan club when you first started fighting on your own. I’m the only one who speaks English, so they sent me over.”
Katie’s eyes rolled. “Oh boy, here we go. Ego inflation.”
Pandora ignored her, putting her hand to her chest in shock. “You have a Pandora fan club?”
The girl nodded. “We have t-shirts, see?” She pointed to I <3 Pandora on the top right of the shirt and then turned around, revealing a picture of Pandora with her wings spread and a saying on the bottom: If you’re going to fight crime, you might as well do it with tits for days. What else am I going to distract them with?
Katie stood with a deadpan look before glancing over behind her. There was a line beginning to form, and she sure as hell hoped they weren’t part of Pandora’s fan club.
It turned out they were not, at least not most of them. So Katie, Pandora, and Juntto stood in the small section of the town signing autographs and taking selfies with everyone around them. It was actually a really nice way to be able to relax for a bit and be renewed by the idea that people still liked them, and still relied on them. For Pandora, though, it was a chance to grow continuously cockier by the second.
Katie smiled, taking a selfie with two guys. They shook her hand, praising her lovingly as a soldier approached. “Sorry, ma’am, I was sent to let you know that your plane is ready.”
Katie nodded. “Thanks. We’ll be there in a few.”
She looked across the sea of people who had gathered, finding Brock to the side next to a tent, talking to several of his guys. He glanced over and found her staring, his mouth fighting the smirk that wanted to take over his lips.
The throne room was bustling and loud, the servants running all around making sure that everything was on the up and up. There was a long wooden table set up in the center, with Baal, Lucifer, and Mania seated around it. In front of them was a projection replaying the end of the Battle of January River.
Lucifer pointed excitedly. “Wait, wait, this is the best part. Goodbye, head.”
He leaned back and chortled in jubilation. Baal forced a smile, his body vibrating as he faked a deep laugh. Mania smirked in amusement as she lifted a strawberry to her lips and darted her eyes hatefully at Baal. He immediately returned his attention to the screen as Lucifer waved his hands, bringing up what looked like live footage of the event.
With a deep sigh, Lucifer leaned forward and grabbed a live shrimp by the tail, tossing it back. “And now they are rescuing all the meatsacks down there, praying way too much for one city and shaking their fists at me. Even those who were followers of my ways have gone silent, due either to melting in the lava or allowing their disgusting human emotions to twist their minds back to Him. It really is disappointing. I am not going to lie. I was hoping I would have more followers who were true.”
Baal shrugged. “Humans have a propensity to scurry off like rats to Him when they feel real fear. That is something that cannot be changed. Of course, they will return. Once the darkness has entered their souls, they will never truly be free of it.”
Lucifer groaned, swiping away the scene in front of them. “I know. But why can’t I have true soul followers like I do demons?”
Mania pursed her lips, her eyelids low, leaning forward with her tits bursting from the top of her corset. “Because He offers them a way out of that fear. A comfort that
is sickly to think about. Of course, you get a few here and there who escape his glory. Bundy, Gacy…”
Lucifer clapped his claws. “Don’t forget Ridgway. He is my favorite tortured soul. Sent me seventy-one beautiful, voluptuous whores from Earth for my collection.”
Baal glanced at him. “Your collection?”
Mania giggled. “He has a collection of whore souls he keeps in a small fish tank. He likes to drop fresh virgins in there and watch them attack. It is rather amusing.”
Lucifer dropped a rat down his throat, wincing as it tried to bite his tongue. “It was very kind of you to arrange for a chef to prepare brunch for us, Baal. A nice surprise after all of the turmoil these battles have put me through.”
Baal cleared his throat, keeping a calm demeanor. “Of course, My Lord. Anything to help you enjoy your kingship a bit more.”
Lucifer nodded at Mania, who swept from her chair, throwing the back of her cape around in a cascade of shimmering fabric. Her six-inch stiletto boots clacked across the stone floors as she sauntered toward the doors.
“Oh, and don’t forget…the thing. The one I like,” Lucifer called after her.