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  WARRING ANGEL

  FALLEN REDEMPTION #3

  Samantha L. Strong

  Copyright © 2021 by Samantha Sabovitch.

  Cover Design by: Regina Wamba of ReginaWamba.com.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at the address below.

  Strong Lane Publishing

  1231 Astra Ave.

  Oshawa, ON

  L1K 1H3

  Canada

  www.samanthalstrong.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Warring Angel (Fallen Redemption #3) / Samantha L. Strong — 1st edition

  Kindle/mobi ISBN 978-0-9952173-0-0

  epub ISBN 978-0-9952173-1-7

  To Dad.

  You always say that no one knows how to end a story anymore. I hope this changes your mind.

  A collection of SFF stories by Samantha L. Strong

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  Previously…

  As former Guardian angel Enael works to prove her worthiness to return to the Heavenly realm, war is on the horizon. Despite her misgivings, she serves as one of the Reapers, the maligned and misunderstood brown-winged angels who usher humans to violent deaths. With the Council of Seraphim questioning all of her decisions, she must watch her step—or risk being denied the wings and status she desperately craves.

  While Enael and her Reaper partner, Cistena, work to quash a government coup on Earth, Enael’s soul mate, Kaspen, is assigned to help the humans in Heaven. The two rarely see each other, and they drift further and further apart. Kaspen settles in happily to his new role, meeting new friends and making new connections, while Enael questions the purpose—and morality—of her new assignment.

  For a short time, Cistena seems to be a light in the darkness, until Enael discovers her friend’s connection to Voctic. When Enael’s former lover, now a demon, appears at her bedside in the middle of the night with a warning about a mysterious figure called the Aleph, her trust in the Council of Seraphim and her new partner wanes.

  Fed up with what she believes to be a pointless assignment, Cistena Falls. Alone, Enael must work on her worst assignment yet: acting as Guardian-Reaper for a disturbed but spiritually progressed serial killer in the Whitechapel District in London. But Voctic is relentless—interfering with Enael’s ability to even complete the distasteful job of facilitating these violent deaths.

  Finally, Enael decides she’s had enough. Arriving at Voctic’s gala of the century, she attempts to disguise herself as one of the demons. He discovers and imprisons her, putting her on display as the main event. As he continues to goad her in a room of thousands of demons and humans, she snaps, killing him.

  Horrified at what she’s done, Enael mourns his passing and worries about the future. When she discovers that Kaspen has Fallen again, she’s lost, confused, and fearful for her own fate. But her new mentor, the Praetor Serinh, persuades the Council of Seraphim to forgive Enael’s past mistakes. As the only Source-made Cornerstone in history, Enael will be a key player in the war that is brewing between Heaven and Hell.

  Given the choice between ranks, Enael chooses to become one of the Nephilim, the cobalt-winged, demon-fighting angels.

  Now, she’s about the face her greatest challenge yet: becoming a warrior in the battle against the overwhelming darkness that is threatening to derail all of human history.

  CHAPTER 1

  No one believed my assigned assassin, Nedeljko Čabrinović, would succeed in killing Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria. The good-spirited chatter in the streets of Sarajevo on June 28, 1914, gave no indication of what would befall the city later that day. Citizens lined the sidewalks, only a few suited gendarmes mingling among the crowd that was waiting for a glimpse of the archduke’s motorcade.

  What the people of Sarajevo couldn’t see were the hundreds of angels hovering above and among them, doing what we do best: guarding them and ensuring that they lived their lives according to the plans established in Heaven. What the people didn’t know—never know while embodied—was that we angels are always there with them, carrying out whatever task we’ve been assigned in Heaven. Some can feel us in their minds or hearts or souls, but most cannot.

  As the crowd waited in anticipation, so did we. But we were anticipating very different things. The crowd was celebrating, and we were initiating a world-changing event.

  “The motorcade is approaching.” My squad leader’s voice filled my mind. The Nephil mind-to-mind communication still jarred me. I was still adjusting to my new abilities.

  Nedeljko shifted and touched the bomb as long as his torso, which he had hidden inside his over-sized coat. His nervousness washed through the bond I shared with him, making me uneasy. That ability I was familiar with—the emotional connection with the person I was charged with watching over.

  I took a relaxing breath, a remnant from the life I’d lived as penance for becoming a demon, and pushed feelings of calm through our bond.

  Nedeljko stood up a little straighter.

  Only a few suited gendarmes mingled amid the throngs of people lining the street. My squad leader had seen to this. We needed one of our six assassins, stationed along the route, to prevail, and police presence would dampen our humans’ resolve.

  I harbored no illusions that Nedeljko and I would actually kill the archduke ourselves. I hoped that any of the others would be successful so that the mission’s outcome wouldn’t fall squarely and singularly on my shoulders—the only Nephil without a partner, working with the human no one believed in.

  As usual.

  If the others didn’t want me, then I didn’t want them. I’d been a Guardian alone for centuries, and I could be a lone demon fighter for centuries more, if necessary.

  My squad leader spoke inside my mind again. “Pair Three, ready?”

  Still, being referred to as a “pair” smarted.

  “Ready,” I responded.

  A woman in a floppy hat gave Nedeljko a long look. I nodded at her Guardian, who brushed a hand over her back to soothe her. The woman finally looked away, patted the head of the flag-waving child next to her, and leaned forward to crane her neck up the street.

  Several blocks away, a roar erupted, indicating the first sighting of the motorcade. We knew Franz would be sitting in an open-air vehicle, with several other cars ahead and behind. He was likely smiling, perhaps reaching his hand out to some bold citizen who’d run up to the side of the car. His wife, too, would be waving, pleased by their welcome.

  Something dark and inky lurked in the crowd: a Fearling, a living creature born through human suffering and whose sustenance is extrem
e emotion. Its presence indicated that a demon, knowing what was about to unfold, had brought it along like a pet.

  Serinh, one of the Seraphim, the highest rank of angels, had spoken to me years ago in secret of a war brewing between Heaven and Hell. However, before now, the Nephil squads tasked to provoke the Great War had seen no coordinated resistance to our plans. Apparently, when an important enough moment arrived, demons appeared, ready to interfere.

  My squad was here to ensure history unfolded as the Seraphim planned.

  A second Fearling joined the first, crawling between the spectators, who were straining to see the motorcade. The Fearlings scooted in the direction of the first two assassins.

  With a thought, I sent a warning to the pairs of Nephilim stations up the street. “Two Fearlings, headed your way.”

  A demon with thick eyebrows and a scowl, invisible to the people around it, followed the creatures. As it stepped forward, the demon entered into a uniformed gendarme, possessing the human and becoming visible.

  “And you have direct interference coming.”

  My squad members would take care of it. My squad leader never tried to disguise her belief that any other member of my team was more effective than I. It’s probably why they’d given my assassin a bomb instead of a pistol. A pistol took too much accuracy and concentration.

  At least I hadn’t been kicked out of the squad—or the rank of Nephil—yet.

  Nedeljko’s nervousness worsened.

  Though he couldn’t hear me, I said, “Why are you so tense?”

  Directly in front of us in the street, visible only to angels, was what appeared to be another demon, although this close to me, it looked… strange.

  It was smirking at me, and when I caught its black gaze, it chortled. “Hello there, little Nephil.”

  With merely a thought, a trident appeared in my hand. Conjuring weapons was an ability I’d learned when I was a Reaper, the angelic rank I held prior to becoming a Nephil, and it was even easier now that I was the demon-fighting rank.

  The demon smiled at the trident. “What are you doing with that?”

  I flew over and landed between Nedeljko and the creature. “Be off. We have a mission to complete.”

  “Oh, yes, I know all about that mission. I’m just here to observe.”

  I felt no qualms about lifting the trident to his neck. My lack of hesitation at threatening violence, once I was able to wield weaponry effectively, may have been the reason I’d been promoted into active duty so soon.

  The cheering of the crowd was getting closer, definitely past where the first two assassins had been. The other demon must have thwarted our first attempt.

  Sure enough, my squad leader’s voice rang in my head. “You’re next, Enael. Don’t make a mess of things again.”

  The demon didn’t seem to mind in the slightest that I held a pointed object to his throat. It’s not like I could kill him anyway, even if I wanted to. He squinted at me, and then a flash of recognition crossed his face. “I remember you now. You were in a cage the last time I saw you.”

  A pang of regret squeezed my throat. The only time I’d ever been in a cage was in my former lover Voctic’s brothel. “And you’re the demon who… coupled… with that Japanese woman.”

  Somehow he managed to bow with my trident still stuck into his neck. “Indeed I am, doll. Osubatz, at your service.”

  Instead of speaking, I ground the trident in, and a spot of black blood welled.

  I did not need this distraction right now. The motorcade was coming and Nedeljko had to act. I turned my attention to him, pushing fortitude toward him. He stepped forward, fingers wrapped around the tail of the bomb.

  Keeping myself between Osubatz and Nedeljko, I allowed my human to pass. “That’s right. Keep back,” I said to the smirking demon. “Let the man work.” I pushed out calmness to my assassin, despite how irritated I was at being reminded of the most embarrassing moment in my life right in the middle of this important assignment.

  The motorcade was driving past us.

  Nedeljko pulled the bomb from his coat, smashed the cap loose against a street lamp to start the twelve-second timer, and strode toward the archduke. Osubatz skirted away from my trident. As I whirled to stab him somewhere more painful, he disappeared, then suddenly reappeared. Nedeljko pulled back and arm and tossed the grenade; Osubatz swung an arm at the bomb, which passed through his hand.

  The grenade bounced off the back of the car that the archduke was riding in and rolled down the street. Osubatz must have concentrated just enough to clip the side of it. That took a lot of harnessed human belief, which fuels angelic and demonic power.

  The bomb rolled under the next car and exploded. Screaming ripped through the street, and the crowd’s energy turned to panic. Fearlings swarmed past me, clambering out of the river and cavorting through the crowd, licking the clouds of fear puffing from the frightened citizens. Osubatz’s laughter taunted me as he turned and ran.

  “Come back here!” I shouted, flapping after the demon who’d just interfered with one of the most intricate plans ever created by the Council of Seraphim. “You’re not getting away from me.”

  Osubatz ducked through the crowd, weaving in and out of the scrambling humans. I disappeared the trident and leapt into the air. He turned down an alleyway and scurried around a building, but I was right behind him.

  When I rounded the corner, he stood three steps away, wearing that infernal smirk. “Good day, pretty angel.” He tipped his head toward the sky and smiled. “Someone’s looking for you.”

  “What?”

  My squad leader’s angry voice rattled inside my head. “Pair Three, come in! What is going on in that head of yours? Leave that demon alone. Pair Three, come in!”

  Pair Three? Oh, that’s me! She must be watching from her vantage place on a roof. Or if she was really upset with me, she was up there, hovering in the sky. I kept myself from cringing.

  “Bye, then,” said Osubatz. He blew me a kiss and vanished.

  “You let that creature distract you! Where is Nedeljko?” demanded my leader. “You should have stayed with him!”

  Oh, no. Nedeljko.

  I jumped into the air to look. He’d taken his cyanide pill and leapt into the Miljacka River. But without me there to take his soul—our failsafe plan for all the assassins—his suicide attempt failed. Nedeljko was vomiting up the poison while angry gendarmes hauled him from the river. A group of men and one stout woman surged forward, punching and kicking him. The gendarmes fought them off with clubs and shouts so they could arrest him.

  “Enael, come join your squad right now.”

  I’d never heard a voice sound so angry before.

  Another failed mission would follow me back to Heaven.

  CHAPTER 2

  When I fell in with the rest of my squad mates on the flat roof, my squad leader looked at me pointedly. “I’ll deal with you later.” To all of us, she said, “Archduke Franz Ferdinand is still alive.”

  My hopes wilted that one of the other pairs had succeeded during the mayhem. The motorcade would have sped away, of course, and none of the remaining assassins could have gotten a clear shot.

  The streets below were clearing, as cars rushed to the scene of the bombing. A man sobbed as his wife was carried on a stretcher into the back of a car. Blood from a gash on a doctor’s forehead leaked into his eye, and he wiped it away as he leaned over to help a wounded man.

  Once again, I’d disrupted the Incarnation Plans orchestrated by Heaven and the humans who were to live them out. Once again, I’d failed at my task.

  “We can still carry out our objective,” said our squad leader, “but we have a problem. In the uproar, our assassins have scattered. We have very little time before the archduke flees the city in fear. Pair Twelve is already there, calming him and making him stay while we regroup.

  “Pairs Eight and Nine, go interfere with any plans for a new route. Ensure that the driver takes the old route. Pairs Te
n and Eleven, get to the hospital and take care of anyone who dies there. I’ve sent for additional Reapers, so you can rejoin us when they’ve arrived.

  “The rest of you, go find our assassins.” She sent a warning glance in my direction that said, Do not mess this up again. “We need to get into the streets and find them. We have one chance to right this. Convince one of them to place himself along the route, preferably someone with a gun instead of a bomb. I don’t want any more casualties this morning. The Engineers are going to have a lot of work to do, and they don’t need to add re-writing more Incarnation Plans to the list.

  “What are you waiting for? Go, go, go!”

  In a flurry of cobalt wings, we scattered into the city, two by two—except for me. As usual, I was the lone Nephil.

  The start of the Great War hung in the balance. This was the most ambitious world event the Seraphim had ever planned. Because of its importance, they’d selected ten possible political dissidents to carry out the assassination, of whom only six made it to this day.

  And so far, all six had failed. If I didn’t find one of the assassins and convince him to finish what we’d set out to do, the Engineers would have more to deal with than a few Incarnation Plans gone awry.

  I stretched my awareness into the city, an ability that came with my blue wings. As I swept my gaze in the direction of the hospital, waves of emotion bubbled across the landscape: fear from the attacks, grief from those whose loved ones were hit by the bomb, pain. Well across Sarajevo, the usual human feelings muddled together—happiness, fatigue, anger—from those who were yet unaware of what had taken place.

  And then, close to the hospital, I picked up a surge of sharp emotions: hatred, confusion, and self-loathing.

  Gavrilo Princip. I’d found one of the assassins.