Dark Angels (Book One)
Lucifer
Mandy Lee
Twisted Mirror Press
Copyright © 2020 Amanda Jones
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 978-1-7751014-0-6
I’d like to say a big “Thank You” to the very special people that helped me get this book off the ground. Frank and Angela – thanks for having the supremely weird conversations that get a writer’s mind ticking. Howie – you read some painful draft versions, thanks for not laughing out loud! Mike - thanks for not letting me give up on getting this out there! I couldn’t have done it without you folks!
In the absence of light, darkness prevails...
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Dark Angels: Lucifer
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Coming Soon...
About The Author
Dark Angels: Lucifer
Dark Angels: Lucifer
Chapter One
Lucifer glanced around the bar from his corner table and sighed. Not much had changed here for the better part of a century. In fact, the establishment had been there far longer. It had changed its’ face and name with the times, but was always accessible as a way station and watering hole for creatures that leaned toward the dark side of existence. The Devil’s Advocate was the only place in the city where demons, shifters, vampires, and the fallen could drop the veneer of humanity.
A series of complex spells kept the entrance to the building hidden from the view of Joe human off the street, but if a mortal did manage to wander in accidentally, all bets were off. The enchantments guaranteeing a state of non-violence within The Advocate’s walls didn’t extend to humans. Located directly above the North American Sheolic conduit, folks had a straight shot home to the Netherworld city of Outer-Sheol at the end of a long day. Inside the colored lighting cast a red glow, making everyone and everything look like they’d been bathed in blood. Cliché, but fitting seeing as there wasn’t a single patron that didn’t have a body count, Luc included.
The band was playing a catchy folk tune from the small stage as conversation flowed with the ale. Luc sighed again, took another long swig of beer, and looked down at his hands, eyeing the dried blood he hadn’t been able to get out from under his fingernails. His stomach hadn’t lurched at the sight of blood on his hands in centuries. Numbness had crept over him gradually, his heart slowly becoming encased in an icy coldness that allowed him to carry out the dark deeds that were asked of him. What was it the humans always called him…right — The Prince of Darkness.
“My ass,” he muttered under his breath. Millennia of the same bullshit and no end in sight. All he’d ever wanted to have some kind of control over his own destiny — free will — to lead a life of his own choosing. He chuckled bitterly to himself. Look how well that had gone. He’d traded one set of shackles for another. He’d been tossed out of the heavens with no second chances, no redemption. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, go straight to your new boss. And boy, was he an asshole!
Luc peered over the rim of his mug at his buddies. They had been among the original angels, created to be princes of the heavens. Azazel, Belial, and Asmodeus were over at the bar spewing vitriol at each other over which hockey team would win the cup this year. Baal and Samael were shooting pool and checking out the new bartender. Gadreel was busy fixing his hair and admiring himself in a mirror at the back of the bar. Luc had never seen anyone so in love with reflective surfaces.
Instead of work hard, play hard, the crew had rebelled hard, fell hard. Now they hung out at The Advocate on a regular basis trading war stories and drinking themselves into oblivion to forget the horrors of the day. Serving Satan really sucked. The guys tried not to get too serious when they were together, but they all felt the darkness, despair, and the constant weight of eternity bearing down on them. Luc closed his eyes for a moment as exhaustion rolled over him. With his defenses down, unbidden images bubbled up to torment him.
Two warring factions. The renegades had followed Lucifer Morningstar into battle; his loyal troops headed up by his six closest friends. They had followed his lead, galvanized by his impassioned speeches about free will and destiny, no longer being shackled to duty. All he’d wanted was the same freedom the humans had been given.
With the light of the sun filtering down upon him, Lucifer had stood in all his glory — his wings spread, his robes white and pristine, a golden glow emanating from his body. They had come together in their desire for freedom, ignorant of the terrible price they would pay for their selfishness.
Battles began, small skirmishes at first that soon escalated into a full-blown war. Angel pitted against angel. Snowy-white wings and robes bathed in blood as the renegades fought for freedom, felling friends and brothers that stood against them. Metatron, the Voice of their creator, had pleaded with the Morningstar to stop his campaign, that it was not too late for him
