The Battle of the Angelmen (book 5) the one you've been waiting for!
Coming Spring 2019
A soldier dressed in business attire burst into the large office on the eleventh floor. Normally, no one would dare enter this room without knocking, and even then would only do so with trepidation.
These were not ordinary circumstances.
“Sir! Are you okay?” He rushed to his leader's side. The tall, well-dressed being on the floor was shrinking to the size of a normal human. Scales shrunk back into his skin and pinked up in color. In less than a minute, the disgusting creature that had just been oozing with hatred had cloaked himself in a human form once again.
The master stood and hissed back, “Of course, I’m okay! Did you expect a child to do any damage to me?”
The soldier knew better than to reply to the question, though clearly his master had been ruffled by his opponent. “I'm sorry, sir, there was an explosion. I didn't know.”
The beast stumbled over to the gaping hole where his office window had been and listened to the crescendo of sirens approaching. “I did that, you idiot, when I threw her to her demise.”
Satan swung his head back and forth within the windowless hole to view the destruction he had caused. But he saw no one below.
The soldier bit his lip, hating to be the one to have to report, “Sir, she was caught in the air by another one of them.”
A look of fury shrouded the monster's face as he slowly turned back to the soldier, who shrunk back.
Satan’s boiling rage seeped through his lips as he whispered, “I want her back. If there is going to be a battle, I want to leave a clear message about who will be the winner. I want that girl, alive, so I can tear her apart piece by piece and drop her remains on the doorstep of my enemy just before we attack the rest. He wants his precious angelmen? Fine! He will get them in scraps.”
The devil began a quick but slumped pace around his large, oak desk.
“What occurred here was a fine display of my power. They will be scared silly, these children, just as is my intention. Now, go. Gather the generals and send them out. They have their assignments.”
“It has already been done, sir.” The soldier bowed slightly as he backed out toward the door. He could not leave the room soon enough.
The explosion from the window was blinding. One limp figure blasted out from the opening along with the broken glass.
Amity. It had to be Amity.
Mackenzie Abel's heart sank even as his pulse soared, and he took off like a dart. He still had a chance to catch her, or save her, or just help her in some way, so he raced toward where he saw her form drop.
How could he have done this? How could he have let a young girl rely on him so heavily and then send her into the clutches of the devil? What had he been thinking?
The last thing he’d told her was he would be gone after she finished her message delivery. She would be all alone. How could he say such a thing? He’d been only thinking of what would be best for his life, not hers. Having Amity David remain in his life would change everything.
Mackenzie now knew he couldn't leave her, especially when she was going to need him more than ever. His voice was the only one she could trust. Only he could protect her.
Mackenzie slapped the side of his head as a prickling sensation plunged a deeper pain through his skull. He didn't see the spirit of evil flying right next to him as he ran, talons sunk into his head, but he heard every word it whispered into his ear.
“Amity! You made it! You did it.”
She turned at the sound of the one voice she’d been waiting to hear. Suddenly, it was over; she could hardly process everything she’d just been through. All at once, with his words swimming through the haze to her ears, Amity returned to the confidence she had just before entering 2223 Frontline Street.
The rest of her body didn’t have the same fortitude. She stumbled a few steps in his direction before Mackenzie, who’d been running at top speed, nearly knocked the wind out of her.
He grabbed her and pulled her close to him and put his hands on either side of her head. She winced in pain from cuts and burns, so he had to let go and try again, more gingerly. Mackenzie brought her forehead to meet his. She looked into his eyes, his smile closing them to all but a slit.
“You're alive. You did it,” he whispered again as he let her fall into arms, warm and ready to hold her.
The events following her confrontation with Satan were still disconnected in Amity’s brain. Surrounded by familiar kindred whom she didn’t know, she tried to assimilate them into her new life. Mackenzie was the last link she had to what remained of her human days.
Amity tried to absorb all that had happened, all that had transformed in her, and what she had just done. Had she really delivered the message? Was her mission over now? Would she be able to go back home? She felt her shoulders sink as she sighed in relief, imagining returning to an easier life. Her joy was reflected in her companion's face.
He seemed so much more than merely her companion now. She’d met Mackenzie only days ago, and now she couldn’t imagine life without him. This young priest, too, had stepped beyond the threshold of ordinary. His life wouldn’t return to where he was before he met her.
Again, as he’d done prior to the explosion, he pulled her face to his, his mouth to hers. The weariness of Amity’s body melted into the reality of his liveliness.
Mackenzie was stopped quickly by a sharp sensation under his chin. He opened his eyes to see a tall man about his own age with fire in his deep brown eyes. In his hand and aimed right at him was a sword that appeared to be made of ice, but the priest could testify it felt as sharp as steel. While the man held the sword on Mackenzie, he used his other hand to herd Amity away from the priest.
A younger man, closer to Amity's age, came up behind the first and added his stabbing glare.
Mackenzie raised his hands in surrender, feeling less than welcome.
“You are not one of our kind,” Malachi explained.
Amity hadn't known Malachi more than five minutes, but felt there was a lifetime or more of kindred spirit between them. She stepped back to defend her yet-to-be-defined partner.
“He's been my guide, Malachi. He isn't one of us, but he is a good man.” Amity carefully repositioned herself between Mackenzie and Malachi’s weapon.
Malachi lowered the sword, but not his gaze. He wasn't open to trusting anyone, especially in the circumstances they found themselves in now.
“We aren't men,” he reminded her.
His reminder carried her thoughts back to their present reality. Amity considered the possibility she was in heaven. Her mission was complete, and she was free from that burden. The man she refused to admit that she loved seemed ready to admit it himself, and she was being protected by another man, too, who seemed to have her best interests in mind.
Then there was Asher, who had risked himself in saving her from the fall.
No, not quite heaven. The stinging pain covering her flesh made her predicament clear by announcing her neglect of it. The burns weren't too bad, but the cuts were deep. She was glad her job was done because now, she needed a reprieve. It was comforting to know there were at least three others to take over.
Mackenzie must have noticed her injuries at the same time. Moving closer to her again, he gently touched her face. Still looking at Amity, he addressed Malachi, “She has some pretty deep wounds here. I need to do something to help her.”
Malachi raised the sword again. “War has begun, man! We can't take her to a hospital. No one around here, or anywhere in this world, can be trusted.”
Mackenzie couldn't argue. That had been his motto all along. He tried to make it clear that he was on their side. “I wouldn't think of taking her anywhere. Just over to the fountain to clean her face some.”
The sword lowered, apparently Malachi's consent, but the burning eyes of Asher never left Mackenzie’s back.