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Angels of War Battle of Archangels (Book 3) (Angels of War Trilogy) Page 20
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Lucifer pushed Jehovah until he snapped. The flood wiped out all life on earth except for Noah. Joan survived and He turned her into an angel. War, with all its violence seemed the single remedy for the flood. A payback other angels wanted. Lucifer rallied them and the Battle of Seven Gates started the eternal conflict.
Daisy Lane asked for forgiveness for her part in the plot to overthrow the kingdom. God forgave her and she used the forgiveness to burrow deep within Heaven like a tick. And wait for the long centuries to pass.
She turned away from the camp, her six wings spread from her back and she took to the air like a rocket. Her power hurtling her upwards through gray clouds and beyond earth and the universe until she reached the siege.
It amazed her how Satan’s forces ruined the pristine grounds. No longer green like an Irish countryside, the muck and blackness below turned her stomach. Vomit rose up in her throat and made her tonsils tingle with its sharp bite. Offal released its putrid odor from the camp and rose into the once sweet air in steamy fumes. Her eyes became teary from the blasphemous stench.
Daisy spotted the grand tent. Like a blackhead ready to burst, it sat amongst the battered landscape. She turned invisible. The Seraph glided below and slipped into its dark innards washed in red from torch fire. Her heartbeat quickened once she eased into Lucifer’s private chambers and waited.
She allowed her eyes to adjust to the dimness. The massive room flickered in a blood red light. Each flame dancing on their torches as if alive. An emperor sized bed sat against a far wall covered in deep red sheets. Two guards armed with spears and over a thousand eyes stood at the main entrance. Raucous laughter echoed into the room, a sweet meaty scent drifted on the air. Her mouth watered until her mind settled on what could have created such a delicious aroma.
“Human flesh.” A voice echoed within the cavernous room. Lucifer appeared at the doorway dressed in black Roman armor, a large ram’s head painted red sat as a crest on his chest.
Daisy Lane held her breath. Lucifer glided into the room. His eyes a normal brown with a head covered in thick black curls and a face tanned like a surfer. He stood six feet tall, muscular, confident, and dangerous. Whatever horror he adopted to frighten the mortals seemed a distant act.
Lucifer sauntered over to a low stool near the bed and sat, leaned forward and laced his thick fingers. “You smell human flesh, Daisy Lane. I can’t eat Heaven’s ambrosia. It burns my throat like acid.”
“Lucifer,” Daisy said.
Lucifer opened his wide palms and spread his fingers. “In the flesh like how you remembered me so many centuries ago.”
Daisy’s legs trembled, the place between her thighs swelled and dampened. With steady fingers she unlatched her armor. It fell to the black carpet in pieces until she stood before him naked.
The dark prince rose from the stool and pulled back the red blankets on the bed. Daisy saddled up to the emperor-sized bed. She bent over before Lucifer, canted her head back with lips curled in a smile as she offered herself up to the enemy.
47
Daisy Lane sat up in bed both exhausted and refreshed. The thick red blankets pooled around her waist like congealed blood, her heavy breast hung in the open. She stared across the room at her armor still silver and bright. Not rusted like the fallen.
Next to her Lucifer slept on his back. His chest rose and fell, satiated from hours filled with sex. Pleasure bumps sprang up across her arms. She waited centuries for this moment to happen and soon they would right the injustices done to them.
Daisy fooled them into the belief her profane act so long ago occurred as an innocent mistake. An angel talked into betrayal by Lucifer, eloquent, beautiful Lucifer who convinced over a million other angels to revolt. Daisy relished the manipulative twist, and God forgave.
How could one make such a cold mistake? How could One, all knowing, believe her lie? She and Lucifer started a war. Her challenge to Michael about Joan’s sudden appearance in Heaven spurred legendary violence filled with jealousy and vengeance.
She placed a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, stirring him awake. First his eyes fluttered open to display their deep browns, his smile followed, bright, white and beautiful.
“I have not fallen,” she said.
“You have to forsake Him and Jesus before you fall.”
Daisy remained silent. Her gaze settled on Lucifer’s defined jaw line. It would take over a million angels to pull her away from Lucifer. “The plan remains the same.”
Lucifer sat up in bed and took Daisy’s hand. “The centuries were too long, Daisy. I missed you so much.” Bloody tears streamed from his eyes.
Daisy leaned over and kissed his face, she tasted the salty blood against her tongue. “We will be together again. The kingdom will be yours, Lucifer.”
“The kingdom is large enough for us both, Daisy. The murderers will pay for what they did. My hatred burns,” he said.
Daisy studied him, a fearful tingle played in her belly. She enjoyed the danger Lucifer brought about. The excitement warming her skin, made her feel alive. “But we are here now, Lucifer. The kingdom is only a few hours away. Once inside I will open Second Gate and the Hell Force can exact revenge. The revenge you have always wanted.”
Lucifer swept his feet onto the carpet and stood. He stretched his naked body and walked over to a bar. He poured warm blood into a skull mug and drank. He lowered the mug and stared at her.
Daisy blew him a kiss and ran her eyes down his body. She focused on the spot just beneath his navel. The package he carried below made Carlton look like a little boy. With every move his girth swung like a pendulum. “I grew tired of sleeping with mortals,” she said.
Lucifer smiled. “That is now the past, my queen. When can you get inside those marble walls and open those pearly gates?”
“Now if you like. I can open the gates within one hour and you will be on Jehovah’s throne.”
He shook his head. “Not yet, I have to move my army in place first. Then I’ll breach those walls and burn the kingdom and chain God to His throne so he can watch. I will fling Him into Oblivion. We will remake Heaven into our own kingdom.”
Daisy laughed, the noise chimed like a little girl. She climbed from the bed and joined Lucifer by the bar, wrapped her arms around his warm flesh, laid her head against his shoulder. “I want Joan as my pet.”
“You can have what you want, Daisy. But all the others must die except for the families who perished in the flood. Their souls will be returned to earth, we will start anew.”
“Will it be a kingdom of light, or darkness?”
“It will be a kingdom of freewill,” he said. “True freewill where deeds go unpunished, there will be no golden carrot hung above their heads to keep them under control.”
“We will all obey Lucifer,” she said and slid to her knees.
Lucifer placed the mug onto the bar countertop, his brown eyes rolled up and reddened. Daisy went to work. “I want revenge. Pure revenge, Daisy,” he said and dug his fingers into her long white hair.
48
Joan stood at First Gate. She swept her eyes over the field awash in black as if an oil slick flooded the once green plains. Other angels stood by, armed and ready. Below her Satan’s army adjusted their siege towers and catapults from a mangled mess into an organized formation. The Hell Force massed together in battalions, someone with experience must have taken charge.
Her mind drifted to how this became possible. Okura, now known as Oni, must have taken the lead.
She strolled along the wall. Angels greeted her with nods, their armor bright from the sky above. Michael’s story broke her heart and angered her. Daisy betrayed them and placed the blame on her as if she caused the Battle of Seven Gates. All those long centuries she remained in exile for an act she never committed.
Joan stopped and placed her hands on a murder hole. The noise below once filled with curses and shouts settled into subdued murmurs as the demons lost themselves in work. Huge Hell horses co
ntinued to pull the siege engines into a line. Whips cracked above their horned heads, the sounds echoed high up the walls. How could they manage to assault a one hundred-story wall defended by angels?
Joan knew God forgave Daisy Lane. But Joan didn’t want to forgive. A worried thought flashed in her mind and vanished. She struggled to bring the quick memory back into focus. She believed in forgiveness for some, but found it difficult to forgive Daisy’s betrayal before the fall.
Maybe she needed to pray, ask God to teach her how to forgive a wrong so powerful it caused death in the millions. God allowed Daisy to walk, and trusted her after she plotted to overthrow the kingdom.
Joan turned back to stare up at the palace glowing pearlescent and golden underneath Heaven’s bright lights and blue sky. The city lay beneath it with white buildings, archways, and golden paths. Forms dressed in white robes moved about lost in joy and love for their creator. She gazed at the Hell Force, two worlds in contrast to each other.
Joan caught a glint in the distance, a brief shimmer sparkled near Lucifer’s tent like a diamond in mud. The glimmer disappeared quick. She narrowed her eyes and focused on the gloom below. Someone angelic moved amongst the horrors on the field and she refused to second-guess herself.
“It took a while to find you.”
Joan spun towards the voice to face Daisy Lane. Her muscles tensed as she prepared to fight Daisy on Heaven’s holy walls. “What are you doing here?”
Daisy shifted her green eyes towards the Hell Force, swept them along the battlements and angels standing guard. “I came to ask for your forgiveness,” she said and knelt before Joan.
The archangel placed her hand on her sword hilt. Jesus forgave, admonishing others to turn the other cheek. Daisy wore her silver armor, not the Seraphim armor. Her two blond braids fell over her shoulders.
“Michael told me about your betrayal. How you informed Lucifer about my arrival to Heaven.”
“A detestable act forgiven by God,” Daisy said. “I ask you to forgive me for our fight.”
Joan remained silent. Daisy’s armor showed bright with gleams and glints. A dark echo tolled in Joan’s heart, she shoved it aside with force and placed her right hand on Daisy Lane’s head. God forgave her and Michael, and both broke laws enough to crack Heaven’s once glorious peace. She would not allow her hate to fester for a thousand years.
“I forgive you, Daisy.”
Daisy lifted her head, tears streamed from her emerald green eyes. “I apologize a thousand times over, Joan.”
Joan pulled Daisy to her feet. “It’s the stress, Daisy. The war, the deaths and that army perched out there like starving hyenas.”
Daisy smiled and hugged Joan. She kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you. You’re my sister, and my friend,” she said and stared at the Hell Force gathered on the field. “I don’t know what makes those animal think they can get in.”
“Better for us they try and fail. Their deaths will send them back to Hell.”
“For all eternity.”
Joan shifted her tiny frame and leaned over on the murder hole. “I want this war over, Daisy.”
Daisy smiled. “It will end soon, Joan. I know Satan will grow tired of the wait.”
“His siege is useless. God provides food for the souls within the kingdom. Trying to starve us out is like trying to empty the sky of stars.”
“I know. He has to make a move.”
“It amazes me how close the enemy is. I can see their abhorred acts.”
“The cities on earth are still fighting back.”
“Well Israel is safe. Tiny Israel. I’m surprised how they overlooked her.”
“What do you mean, Joan?”
“Everyone thought if America fell, the world would follow. If Rome fell, the world would follow. It’s neither. The plug is Israel, Daisy.”
Daisy’s face paled. “I don’t get it.”
“Didn’t you know? Lucifer must take the kingdom to conquer the universe, and take Israel to start the Apocalypse.”
Daisy swallowed.
“And there’s no way Hell is getting into the kingdom,” she said and returned her gaze to the Hell Force. “And no way will Israel fall.”
49
Marcus knees ached. The heavy black robes he wore made his skin itch. He did his best to absorb every word the enemy spoke. He feigned prayer to Satan. Eyes closed, hands pressed together, head bowed in supplication. The lead black priest read passages from the Black Bible in a constant session. The other priest prayed in earnest with all his black heart.
Marcus focused himself on Armand and David Brown. Their plans followed a course he feared, yet he continued to obey the orders his late father, President Raymond Wallace, commanded him to do. Gain David Brown and Armand’s trust, show an allegiance to Satan, and funnel any information to Patricia Jones, and if possible. Kill them both.
He committed horrible acts to enter Armand’s inner circle. The sacrifices, the triple sixes burned into his forehead, so much blood he spilled he wondered if God would ever forgive him.
Black fear gripped Marcus when they fled the Large Hadron Collider. He stood on the hill in France when Satan and his army entered the world. When Joan fell in battle he almost cried while the others cheered in joy for their victory. His fingers trembled when he sent Patricia the text message and video.
He couldn’t understand why God kept the enemy alive. With each minute he fought back the blackness. Satan’s dark power loomed over them all as the head priest mouthed the prayers. With all his might he struggled against each word with his own prayers to God.
“Take a break everyone,” the priest said, his voice smooth and relaxed. “We have prayed for three hours straight and must rest.”
Marcus’s eyes fluttered open. He fought against the deep cleansing breath he wanted to take. “I wish to pray more, master.”
The priest smiled at Marcus. “You will, Marcus. Satan wants us well rested so we can perform his divine will with vigor,” he said with a bald fist.
Marcus nodded and rose, his knees creaked, pain splintered up his thighs. With his left hand he signed the inverted cross over his chest. “Thank you, master.”
He moved from the control room, and acted not too over eager to escape the Black Bible with its dried pages perfumed in death.
Marcus slipped outside the room, entering the hall relieved. He found time to orientate himself. The dead chicken stench pouring from the vents watered his eyes. He fought the urge to vomit. Up the hall he spotted a dark room and slipped inside, closed the door and fell silent. Voices echoed outside the door. Mirthless laughter followed, he waited for complete silence.
Marcus pulled the widescreen cellphone from his pocket and turned it on. The screen glowed white. He used his thumbs and scrolled around until Patricia’s name popped up along with a text she sent. Marcus thumbed the keys. “Plan to order all troops to D.C.”
“Good. When call troops?”
“Now.”
“I’m ready to attack.”
“All in command center. Including Armand.”
“Good.”
“They plan to attack Israel.” Marcus’s thumbs worked the keys in a blur.
“Thanks for the info. Out.”
A knock on the door made him jerk. He turned off the cell and stuffed the device into an inner pocket. The door swung open and the master priest slipped in.
“Marcus,” he said. “Where are you?”
Marcus wanted to curse. He stepped back into the shadows and crouched to the floor. The master eased inside the room, paused with the door open. Dim light spilled across a wall.
“Don’t be shy, Marcus. This is a good place to be alone together.”
Marcus’s eyes widened. The door closed and the figure moved further inside. The Black Bible reeked on his person, rotted thousand-year-old flesh, and onions.
Marcus rose from the shadows like a ghost, lifted his hands and waited until the priest stepped forward.
Marcus grabbed the robe’s hood and pulled forward, jamming up his right knee. Bones cracked and a muffled grunt greeted his ears. He drove an elbow down where he thought the neck sat. Another crack exploded followed by a grunt. Liquid farts bubbled out from the priest. Oh the reek, Marcus thought as the body hit the floor.
Marcus squatted and patted the body. His fingers grazed over a sacrificial knife, pulled the blade from the robe’s inner pouch and stood. He held the ugly weapon in his grasp. Killing David Brown and Armand played through his mind. If he could get close to a guard and take a weapon he would consider the deed done.
He stepped out into the hall closing the door behind him. With lowered head, and hands tucked inside the robe, Marcus moved down the hall towards the command center. Fate handed him the opportunity to end the war on earth.
“Marcus.”
The slurred voice made him stiffen. He turned. The priest stood in the office open doorway, slumped against the door jam, hood pulled back to display a nose twisted to the right and a mouth thick with blood.
“No,” Marcus said. Several voices filled the hallway. He glanced beyond the injured priest as two armed guards approached. The guards paused.
The priest pointed a trembling finger at Marcus. “Stop him.”
The guards brushed by the master priest and lunged for Marcus.
Marcus spun on the nearest guard, reached for his rifle and yanked. The weapon’s strap snagged on the guard’s shoulder forcing Marcus to drive the butt stock into the guard’s jaw. His mouth and chin shifted to the right, far beyond normal and he collapsed to the floor.
The second guard pulled his gaze from the disfigured black priest and swung up his rifle barrel just as Marcus pointed the commandeered rifle. Gunfire echoed off the narrow hallway walls. Bullets ripped up the second guard’s chest, the holes blossoming with red patches and he fell atop his dead comrade.