Angels of War (Angels of War Trilogy Book 1) (27 page)

Okura realized his wife did not dwell among the caverns filled with heat, smoke, and brimstone. He tried to shut out the stranger’s familiar voice as hands stroked his naked body. He failed at ignoring the sensual moans and gentle grunts. He struggled to free himself from their hands.
 

“Kimmie make you come,” she said. “Kimmie make you come, daddy.”
 

His wife’s voice whispered in his ear again, unintelligible words filled with demonic power ran underneath her murmurings. Tiny hands found his stiffened shaft. Soft legs enclosed his slender waist. He opened his eyes and Kimmie’s sweat speckled face hovered above his. Her eyelids half closed, her thick lips parted open to reveal her pink tongue pressed against white teeth. Her breath came sweet to his flared nostrils.
 

The flesh between her legs warm and wet as she impaled herself upon him and jerked her hips forward. Tears ran down his eyes. She moved her hips, her head tilted back to display her white throat. How he missed her, he would give his eternal soul to hold her again.
 

Okura grunted, his lower belly trembled, and his testicles knotted. This cannot be his wife he raged in silence. Despite his mind’s fruitless fight he succumbed. She moved like her, breathed like her, cooed with soft lips pressed against his earlobe, her stiff nipples scrapped against his bare chest as she leaned forward to slide her warm tongue against his face. He wanted her despite the altered reality beating against his body and mind.

Okura groaned and emptied his thick seed into his wife’s warm flesh.
 

His lips pulled back over white teeth, he realized the chain never fell away. Satan tricked his mind. He strained against the metal links until they cracked. Pain doubled in his body, bones broke. He released his mind.
 

The pain, his wife, and the hate he held for General Temeculus. All swirled into red black smoke, incinerated not by faith but hate. He threw back his head, opened his mouth and screamed.

The chain broke.

Okura tumbled into red blackness. His eyes opened and he searched for a purchase. In his fall, he caught Black Angel stumble away from him, her hands held near her crotch stained dark with blood. Cold fear scampered down his back.
 

Both heat and pain fell away from him. He outstretched his hands and thought about his sword. The world around him continued to burn in red madness. He reeled in his mind and set his chin for battle.

Okura landed on a solid surface. In his hand, he held his katana. His white armor trimmed in gold adorned his body. He found himself perched on a ledge. Beneath him a huge rent sat in the earth, and within the chasm burned the infamous Lake of Fire. The lake blazed far beyond his expectations and stretched into the fierce horizon.

“What is this?”

“The great inferno, Hell, God’s basement, the land of tormented souls.” A deep voice rolled from the flames below. “I’ll give you this only chance, Okura.”

The angel stood and readied his sword. “What chance? My soul is spoken for.”

White light flashed above the flames, within this light stood his wife and son locked in a black cage. “You risk sacrificing them? Call upon your God for help. I even let you hump your wife one last time. Is she still good in the sack, angel? Are you going to be ungrateful to me now? Free me and become one of my generals and your family will live forever.”

Lucifer arose from the fires like a dragon. His colossal wings spread out behind him and blotted out the cavern from view. Scaled in armor, he hovered over the two caged forms struggling against the black bars.

Okura’s heart beat steady as he faced the universe’s ultimate fiend. Yet, an alarmed voice echoed deep within his soul. He realized he did not make love to his wife. The thought struck him hard, his knees buckled. “They are saved.”

Okura eyed the figures trapped in the cage. The boy cried and jumped, a tiny white hand stretched out from between the bars to reach for him. The woman sank to her knees and began to pray.
 

Lucifer, the horrible, the most hated, opened his vicious mouth. Red flames consumed the two bodies until they turned black. Their ashes fell into the Lake of Fire like defiled snow. Two white puffs floated towards the cavern roof and vanished from view.

Okura clicked his teeth together to retain his ripping sanity. A small question rose, and he shoved the troublesome thought aside. “Your time will come when your games will mean nothing to me.”
 

The angel spread his white wings. Lucifer opened his mouth and spat fire like a flamethrower. Okura pumped his wings and flew upwards to conquer the cavern’s dizzying height. His eyes caught the famed door they fought over, a door many sacrificed their lives to keep locked until the appointed time.
 

“We will meet again, Satan. And I hope I’m one of many who will drive their blades into your flesh,” he said. Okura drove through the roof and through the earth until bright blue sky spread above him.

Lucifer’s voice spoke in Okura’s mind. “Only I can bring them back to earth, Okura. Free me.”

The angel landed feet first upon green soft grass. His armor smoked and stunk with sulfur. He sat upon the ground, his eyes filled with tears as he gazed at the snow-capped Rocky Mountains in the distance. He took in the white peaks. The cobalt tinted mountains glowed from the sun. In his heart, he realized wife and child died, he blamed himself, and God’s divine refusal to save their mortal lives.
 

Okura concluded his decisions killed his family. Not the dark prince. He surmised Satan’s words might be right.
 

Okura slumped forward, his sword still upright in one hand. He laid his head upon the sweet green turf and cried.
 

49

Joan leaned against an ancient Virginian tobacco barn with folded arms. The warm sun above ended its western journey across the sky and settled beyond the many oak trees on the old battlefield. The horizon exploded in orange light, the wind swept up from the east and brought a pine and honeysuckle aroma through the air.
 

Jehovah and His angels doubted her ability to win the battle. Their concerns about her leadership skills solidified once Michael revealed to her the sights in Heaven. Angels by the millions training for a battle God assumed would happen at His beautiful gates. This stiffened her resolve to succeed. Yet the more she played the beautiful scene in her mind, the more anger worked its way into her.
 

Questioning her ability to lead a military action motivated her to seek victory. She volunteered for the mission to protect the back gate.
 

Besides, God gave her command over the Guardians, simple mortals who never fought against the terrors from Hell. Below the earth, lay horrors powerful enough to make an average angel cringe in fear. How much so would a human respond against their deepest nightmares come true? Those horrors in Hell lived off fear. They thrived on fear, and yellow fear made them stronger. Her intuition sensed a setup, but her rational mind refused to believe God capable of using her in such a way.

A golden light appeared in the fresh evening sky. Heaven opened and the archangel Michael came down upon his golden chariot led by two powerful black horses. He steered his car and landed upon the loamy green earth. Seconds later another chariot pulled by two warhorses and steered by a powerful angel hauled up next to Michael’s chariot.

“Joan,” the archangel called. He stepped from the chariot and stroked the thick necks on his steeds. They snorted and stamped the ground and dipped their large heads to munch on the sweet grass. The large and muscled angel who landed next to Michael stepped from his chariot and strode up to the two.

Joan eased from the barn. She gave Michael a nod and glanced over at the new angel. “Hello, Michael. Owen?”

Owen ran a big hand over his bald, dark-brown head. “Who else? Do you think I would send such gifts without being here?”

“Look inside, Joan,” Michael said.
 

Joan blinked. “Gifts?”

Michael and Owen smiled.

Joan shook her head and turned to face the huge barn. She approached the doors, grabbed the rough wooden handles and swung them open. The silver gleam blinded her. She gazed at the Roman armor and weapons hung on several racks. Old tobacco dust played within the beautiful metal glow.
 

Elation and wonder filled her heart. The armor shone so bright the angel narrowed her eyes against the glare. Each armored set came with a gold hilted-sheathed sword, a polished round shield decorated with the Judea Lion embossed upon the front center, and silver greaves for both shins and forearms.

Three golden horns, six feet long each, and silk pennants, silver and trimmed with golden edges accompanied the ten thousand sets. Each pennant came embroidered with various designs. One, a lion, another, a sword and shield, joined by others decorated with various flowers or scenes from Heaven, from the glorious gates, to God’s Palace.
 

The angel stepped further into the barn filled with armor. “These are beautiful, Michael. Thank you.” She turned to the two angels.
 

Michael placed a hand on Owens bulky shoulder. “Thank Owen. He worked hard in making this armor.”

Joan grasped the six-foot eight angel’s big hand. “Thank you, Owen.”

“You’re welcome, Joan. Anytime.”

“Also,” Michael added. “He will be joining you in the fight.”

Joan pressed her lips together for a second. “You’re aware of Okura?”

“Yes. I believe Heaven’s armorer will be an excellent addition to your team. You can always turn him down.”

“No. Owen is perfect.” Joan hated Michael’s stoic face, like confronting an impenetrable titanium door. What secrets did he hide about the war?
 

Michael gave Joan a slight bow. “I’ll be leaving so you two can reacquaint yourselves.”

Joan turned to the armor. A shiver ran down her back. Her eyes glanced over the precious metal. “We will be ready, Michael.” She swung her head to face him. The archangel and his chariot no longer graced her presence.

Owen folded his large arms. He swept his eyes over the bright armor. “What are your orders, Joan?”

Joan blew air from between her soft lips. She wanted the battle over. Her shoulder muscles tightened. “Nothing yet, Owen. How are your training skills?”

“They’re good.”

“You’ll lead the archers into battle since Okura is out.”

The strong angel approached a rack. He pulled a blade from a scabbard and studied the fine edge. “I’m also here to follow Daisy Lane.”

“I figured,” Joan said. “I still think Daisy is good. Is Okura ok?”

Owen hunched his shoulders. “Satan released Okura from Hell a few hours ago. And he’s not talking to you yet.”

“We’ll wait for Okura. Maybe he brought a little Hell with him.”

“Yup,” the big angel said and twirled the blade around. “Joan, dangerous parts unseen are moving against you.”

Joan gazed at a silver helmet and ran her fingers over the smooth finish. The choir from Heaven began to sing above their heads. “Well I hope they do move against me, Owen. I’m eager to find out the real reason Temeculs attacked earth.”

50

General Temeculus, in his fury, re-stretched the dead Marine general across the table. He drove four rusty nails at each end with a calloused bare hand. Upon the map he drew the Rocky Mountains and Denver with blood collected from Okura. He studied the map in silence with Lord Wrath, Black Angel, and several other Hell borne officers. He trailed a finger along a road from the Rockies and towards the city center.

A soldier in black armor marched towards the general and held out his hand with a rolled parchment made from human skin. “For you, sir.”

Temeculus waved the soldier away. “Lord Goth failed in his trial to take San Francisco.” He gave Black Angel a cold stare and returned to the map.

Black Angel lowered her head.

Temeculus analyzed the drawn road, a single highway cut through the mountains and into Denver. The road split the city almost in half. He passed his hand over the dead skin and caused the map to bump and bulge from his dark power. The mountain ranges rose to scale along the dead skin.
 

“Highway 70 comes from the Rocky Mountains, spilling out on Denver’s front doorstep,” Temeculus said.

“No trouble for you, sir,” an officer said.

“Not for us. My human force must get through those mountains and attack the city from the ground.”

Black Angel leaned over the skin etched with lines, hills, and miniaturized mountain ranges. “Can we split our forces? Some of the undead soldiers can fight along with the humans and help breach any defenses around the city.” She rubbed her stomach. Her belly swelled soon after she mounted the angel Okura.

Wrath nodded. “Good point, Black Angel. Sir, we can take a small cavalry force and strike them. The maneuver will give our ground forces a stronger chance at taking the city.”

“Joan and her rabble,” Black Angel said.

Temeculus glared at Black Angel, his eyes blazed with fire. “Her rabble is busy proving themselves. Are they not?” His voice came out in a low growl.

Black Angel lifted her chin. “I can lead the cavalry into the city…and burn it down.”

Temeculus grunted. “I want the troops ready. I want fuel and food for the mortals. Leave some of the Screamers here to guard Hell’s Cathedral. I want to be prepared for war within three days time.” He swept his dark eyes over the ghoulish faces at the table. “Do you all understand me?”

“Yes sir,” they said in unison.

He waved them away. The officers bowed and departed from the war room. The general turned from the table and visited the balcony to clear his head. The battered city stretched out before him. His keen ears picked up the sweet sounds from Heaven. He remembered those voices as they floated down to him.

The songs brought back faded memories. The voices reminded him of the day when he, along with the other disgruntled angels, gathered to plot the catastrophic event and their eventual downfall.