Angels of War (Angels of War Trilogy Book 1) (26 page)

The SWAT members aimed their weapons and fired rounds at the enormous beast. The horror bellowed like an enraged bull, lowered its horned head, and drove a long horn into a team member’s chest. The woman cried out in pain. The bull flung his head until she dislodged from the horn, her rag doll body hurtled over the barricade to vanish from sight.
 

Lord Goth arranged his troops into three groups. One to test the defensive line and the other two flanked the defenders. He decided to fly overhead to distract the amateurs until his soldiers moved in place for the attack. Once ready, he landed among the fighters to start the bloodbath.
 

Lord Goth killed off the SWAT team. The defenders held for a moment, a moment longer than he expected before they fell into a panic. Bullets zipped and popped in all directions. Several untrained defenders gunned down their own people in fear. He sliced and hacked his way towards an area they retreated to, where the iron tang of blood grew strong and heavy in his nostrils.
 

Once the line broke, the defenders scattered from the barrier to flee explosions and gunfire. The winged devil frightened them the most. The fighters screamed and stumbled over each other. They did their best to escape the monster deep in bloodlust as he conducted his murderous work.

The soldiers loyal to Satan charged through the barricade firing their weapons. No fighter surrendered. Many died in the fight, swarmed by men dressed in black with the number sixty-six burned into their foreheads. Frontline survivors retreated behind the second defensive line as reinforcement fighters took their positions and fired into the black clad enemy.

Lord Goth’s men fell to intense gunfire. He soared into the air, leaped over the second line and landed amongst the enemy defenders. Most turned and fired their weapons into his muscled bulk, their eyes wide in fear as rounds pierced his hellish body, or ricocheted off into the intense air.

Goth’s muzzle foamed red. He refused to accept how this group fought back. Simple men, plain humans who threw their worthless souls against his Hell formed body. Goth refused to suffer failure again. Joan sent him home to face a painful punishment by General Temeculus. How would the general react if he failed against mortals?
 

His rage exploded. His men clamored over the secondary barrier. The fight intensified. Both sides fired into each other at close range. They engaged in hand-to-hand combat. The demon spawn waded his way through the fighters until a horn blared above their heads.
 

Goth turned his red eyes skyward, the fog folded back like a heavy blanket. Yellow sunlight burst into view. His eyes widened. A long golden horn flashed. The sun, no longer hidden by clouds and mist, spilled light upon the entangled combatants.

47

Maria blew the horn again, pushing out a long deep blare. The fog continued to roll away from the town. Below her, tracer rounds flashed between the fighters. The space between her stomach and chest tightened. Lord Goth stood amid the fierce battle, working his blood slick blade to cut down those who challenged him.

She turned her head back, gazed through the Black Hawk cockpit window at General Orlando and pushed one word into his head. “Bayonets.”
 

She prayed the Rangers recognized Lord Goth’s troops with their double sixes burned into their foreheads and their all black military uniforms. The golden horn vanished from her grasp and with her left hand she pointed her blade towards the earth below and attacked.

Maria stumped Lord Goth’s chance to think about his next move. She landed near Goth and delivered an overhand blow towards his head. He wheeled around, blocked her sword stroke with his battleax and kicked her in the stomach with a hoofed foot. She hurtled away and crashed into an ambulance.

Maria scrambled from the battered ambulance, pushed aside a stretcher, a tire, and jumped to her feet. Goth raced towards her. She expanded her wings and hit the air. Goth crashed into the ambulance and ripped the vehicle in half. Maria remained afloat as the Black Hawk and Chinook helicopters came to a hover.
 

Ropes dropped from helicopter cargo doors. Rangers fast roped from the helicopters with fixed bayonets. Maria returned her attention to Goth. She landed on the street with her sword at the ready.
 

Lord Goth pointed a long nailed finger at Maria. Red froth gathered at his mouth. “I remember you. Black Angel defeated you and took the Key. She failed to kill you, so I’ll correct her mistake.”

Maria shook her head. “I’m an angel of war, Goth. I think you ought to slit your own throat and save me the trouble of fouling my beautiful blade.”
 

Lord Goth glared at the angel covered in silver armor. His red eyes fell upon her long silver sword adorned with a bejeweled golden hilt. The noisome battle raged around the two beings. They fell into their own old world. The demon adjusted his grip on his battleax with both hands and lifted the heavy weapon over his head. “The only throat I will slit today is yours.”

Maria cleared her mind. The battle backdrop fell away. Her eyes settled upon a spot between Lord Goth’s hate filled eyes. “All talk, Goth.”
 

Lord Goth defeated many angels when he fought against God. Joan sent him from the white clouds, and away from Heaven to reside in Hell. Here, he wanted to live and control those mortal beings, and immortal beings eager to set their will against Satan. He attacked Maria. His muscles bulged, his armor clanked. A howl ripped from his throat.

Maria moved faster than when she fought Black Angel. She understood her angelic powers more than when she first came from her long deep sleep. She countered his overhand blow. Goth leaped back and rushed Maria a second time. She stepped forward and drove her blade into Lord Goth’s throat and through his neck.
 

Her brown eyes, filled with love, locked with his, filled with hate and horror. His large hands faltered on the battleax, the weapon struck the ground with a dull clang. Goth’s muscle heavy arms dropped to his sides.
 

His hot breath made her gag. Without words, the angel cut her sword to her right. The blade sliced clean through Goth’s neck, his head tipped over and tumbled from his body.
 

Goth’s head hit the ground first, his mouth twisted in silent rage. Seconds later his armored body landed upon the macadam with a rattle. Black blood gushed from his neck. His body convulsed, foam gurgled from his mouth. His red eyes rolled around for a moment and closed. His body, sprawled over the ground, turned to ash and blew away.

Maria spread her white wings upon her back, thrust her sword into the air and stood victorious over the monster. The fight abated around her. The Rangers fought hand-to-hand and captured several prisoners. The civilian defenders suffered heavy casualties. The Rangers dominated the field and the enemy surrendered in small groups.
 

One Black Army soldier placed a gun to his head and stared Maria in the face. “Long live Satan,” he said and pulled the trigger. His body flopped to the ground dead.

Maria shivered. She did not understand why a few mortals wanted to burn in Hell. Cheers rose into the air from the victorious combatants. She crossed the field to reach General Orlando.

General Orlando stood with his Delta Force soldiers. He studied the angel adorned in her brilliant raiment. “Congratulations are in store, ma’am.”

Maria sheathed her sword and folded in her wings. “The war is not over, general. One more battle left to fight. And pray to God the next one will be our last.” She gave the general a curt nod. “Thank you for listening, General Orlando. You saved thousands of lives today.”
 

General Orlando said, “I did this for humanity, Maria.”
 

Maria smiled. She transformed into jeans and a green hooded sweater. “I’ll help clean this up. Say thanks to your men, general.” He gave her a crisp salute and walked off.

Maria’s heart ached for the people around her. She plunged in to help with the same zeal and energy she used in fighting. She worked until the dead no longer lay in the streets, and the wounded treated. The prisoners sat on the ground with their hands bound behind their backs with white plastic zip-cuffs. She even helped set up a stronger defense for the city.
 

Maria missed her family in Mexico City. She decided to fight harder to keep them alive.

48

Okura remained in constant pain. He last recalled Daisy Lane’s high-pitched voice before Wrath and his horrible Screamers overpowered him. He remembered how the spiked chain wrapped around his body. The pain so intense he vomited as the metal tightened and broke bones. The pain blurred his world into darkness. His consciousness came and went, came and went.
 

Harsh laughter filled his ears and faded away. He passed out into blackness again.

Okura opened his eyes and found his arms and legs numb. Weakness suffused him. Pressure accumulated in his head as the disorientation began to clear. He remained wrapped in the chain, hung from the ceiling like a pig ready for gutting. His head dangled towards the floor.
 

Blood poured in rivulets from his wounds in thin streams and plopped in red drops against the glass floor. He tried to pull his arms free and failed. He canted his head, his eyes graced one white wing caught within the chain, dappled in blood, and twisted at an awkward angle as if broken.
 

“Ah, you’re awake.” A deep voice rose from the gloom. “I came close to slicing off your pretty head until Lucifer asked me not to.” Heavy footfalls echoed against the floor and walls within the shiny black chamber.

General Temechulus approached the chained angel. His long white hair covered his linemen shoulders. His black eyes took in the scene around him and gave out fiery hate. He wore black robes lined in red. He stopped near Okura. His thin reptilian tongue flickered out to sample Okura’s blood. The general smacked his lips.

“Fine blood, Okura. Sweet with a hint of cinnamon.” He gazed into the angel’s eyes. “My master said you doubted for a moment your mission on this planet while being visited by Daisy Lane on Mt. Fuji-Yama. Is this true, Okura? A lil bit of a shaky faith from the faithful.”
 

Okura closed his eyes. A moan escaped his dry lips. Shame washed over him, more powerful than the pain in his body. “Satan …is a…liar,” he said. He licked his parched lips in an effort to quench their dryness with saliva. “You will meet…your deaths.”

General Temechulus grunted. “You idiots came into my house, destroyed my precious map, stole the Key, and Daisy Lane ruined my floor.”
 

Temeculus lifted his callused hand and stroked Okura’s broken wing. He seized the wing with a strong grip and dug his blood-crusted fingernails deep into the soft fluff. “You’re telling me you did this with a weak heart?”
 

Pain flashed through Okura’s arms and legs, white pain bolted through his body and he screamed. “My heart…” Pain filled his mind like hot lightening. His body jerked as the chain tightened around him and jingled a heavy musical note. “…is strong.”
 

General Temeculus leaned in closer, his cold skin brushed Okura’s cheek. “Listen, Okura. Mighty Samurai. I know you love your family, and they are still alive and well. Remember them, remember your family?”

Okura clenched his teeth. Temeculus’s cold, dry, skin revolted him. Hate stormed through his angelic soul. He turned his head and glared into General Temeculus’s eyes. “Leave them alone.”

Temeculus delivered a deep-throated laugh. “Not a chance, Okura.”
 

He shifted his body away from the angel and approached his throne. He contemplated the seat for a moment and sat his muscled frame upon the hard bones. He swung a leg thick with muscle over an armrest and reclined in the chair. The general glared at Okura whose blood continued to drip like thick oil to the glass floor.

“Let me show you something, Okura.” Temeculus waved his hand and glass scraped. The floor beneath the captured angel slid open. Screams oozed from the pit below. Okura struggled against the chains, a futile gesture to escape. “Your wife is waiting for you, Okura. Do you miss her? Lead the Key to the back gate on the day of battle, and you will be with her forever. If not, she will die.”
 

Okura’s eyes burned and watered from the sulfur-filled smoke. Moans and screams drifted up towards him from the abysmal pit. Barbecued meat and rotten eggs filled his nostrils with a vile stench. To his dismay, the chain jerked.

He raised his head to get a better view. Above him, a soldier began to lower the chain into the awful hole in the floor. Below him, souls reached up with broken hands. Their eyes black hollows, their mouths stretched open to release mournful sobs.

The keepers lodged in Hell horrified him. Naked, horned beasts with red or black skin tore apart the tortured souls, or rammed things into their bodies. Souls screamed and streaked across a dark rocky landscape littered with small and large fires. Several souls sought refuge among the crags and cliffs. Demons ganged raped, beat, or tore the lost souls apart.
 

Hellhounds violated the damned in several horrific ways. The shadows below shifted as if alive. His mind fell in awe at the vastness within Hell and its dark mansions.
 

Okura recoiled. Hands emerged from the darkness and rubbed against his angelic body. Beautiful women reached up to him. Goose bumps rippled over his flesh. Their tongues slathered his face with sticky saliva.
 

His heart thumped hard in his chest as delicate hands found his crotch and kneaded the limp flesh until he stiffened in their grasps. He moaned in agony. Lust devoured him.

Their voices came to his ears sweet and soft. The hands pulled away the heavy chain, and stripped the angelic armor off his body. His mind divided as his wife’s sweet voice cooed in his ears. He tried to slow down his excitement and pull himself free.