Avenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Heather Killough-Walden is a California native currently living in Texas with her husband and child. She is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling e-book author of the Big Bad Wolf series and the October Trilogy, as well as the print and ebook Lost Angels series which includes ALWAYS ANGEL and AVENGER'S ANGEL. Heather's educational background includes religious studies, archaeology, and law. She has traveled all over the world but hopes to one day live in a town with a world-class hockey team. (Let's go, Pens!) Visit Heather's Web site at www.killough-walden.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter. Also, be sure to keep in touch with her and other fans through her Facebook page and Twitter (killoughwalden)!

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Introduction

Long ago, the Old Man gathered together his four favored archangels: Michael, Gabriel, Uriel and Azrael. He pointed to four stars in the sky that shined brighter than the others. He told the archangels that he wished to reward them for their loyalty and had created for them soul mates. Four perfect female beings—archesses.

However, before the archangels could claim their mates, the four archesses were lost to them and scattered to the wind, beyond their realm and reach. The archangels made the choice to leave their world, journey to Earth, and seek out their mates.

For thousands of years, the archangels have searched. But they have not searched alone. For they are not the only entities to leave their realm and come to Earth to hunt for the archesses. They were followed by another…

Chapter One

2,000 years BCE

The archangel Michael gripped the rock in his right hand so hard that his fingers left imprints in the stone. His jaw was clenched, his eyes shut fast against the pain coursing through his veins. The woods were sparse this far north, and the ground beneath him grew colder and harder as the strength was sapped from his inhuman body.

His brother, the archangel Azreal, transformed as he was to a predatory creature, had his fangs embedded deep in the side of his throat, and with each pull and swallow, Michael experienced a new and deeper agony.

“Az…that’s enough,” he ground out, hissing the words through gritted teeth.

I’m sorry, came Azrael’s hesitant reply. He didn’t speak the words, but Michael could hear the genuine regret skating through his brother’s mind. Azrael had yet to pull out—to stop drinking him down.

Not for the first time, Michael knew he would have to use force. He picked up the rock that his fingers grasped, and after another grimace and wince of pain, he slammed the stone into the side of Azrael’s head. His brother’s teeth were ripped from his neck, tearing long gashes in his flesh as Azrael toppled to the side, catching himself on strong but shaking arms.

“Az,” Michael gasped, dropping the rock to cup his hand to the side of his neck. “Az, I’m sorry.” He slowly rolled over, propping himself on one elbow as he attempted to heal the damage. Light and warmth grew beneath his palm, sending curative energy into his wound. But Azrael’s head was still down, his long sable hair concealing his features from Michael’s sight.

“Az?”

“Stop, Michael. I can’t bear it.”

Michael felt the healing complete itself, heard his heart beat steady within his body and closed his eyes. His brother had an incredibly beautiful voice. And yet now, it resonated with despair.

Michael let his hand drop and sat up the rest of the way. He opened his eyes again and looked upon his brother’s bent form. “This pain you’re going through can’t last much longer,” he said, softly.

“A single moment longer is too long,” Azrael whispered. Slowly, and with what appeared to be great effort, his tall, dark figure straightened. He raised his head to meet his brother’s gaze and Michael found himself, once more, staring into eyes of glowing gold, eerie and mesmerizing, in the handsome frame of Azrael’s face.

“Kill me,” Azrael said.

Michael steeled himself and shook his head. “Never.”

If any one of the four archangel brothers could have summoned the will to kill the other, it would not have been Michael, or even Azrael, but rather Uriel. He was the Angel of Vengeance. Only Uriel would be capable of comprehending what it would take to smother empathy and reason and love long enough to deal the final blow Azrael begged for.

But Uriel was not with them. He and their other brother, the archangel Gabriel, had been lost in their plummet to the Earth two weeks ago. The four archangels had been separated and scattered, like dried and dead leaves on a hurricane wind. Michael had no idea where the others were, much less what they might be going through.

He only knew that he had gone through a transformation as he’d taken on this human form. Michael was not as powerful as he’d been before their descent. The nature of his powers was the same, more or less. But the scope of those powers had diminished greatly. He was only able to affect what was immediately around him, and only for a relatively short period of time. His body grew weary. He knew hunger. He often felt weak. He had changed drastically.

But not as much as Azrael.

As the former Angel of Death, Azrael’s change was different from Michael’s. It was darker. It was much more painful. It was as if this new form were steeped in the negative energy he had collected during his seemingly endless prior existence. As the reaper in the field of mortal spirits, Azrael had taken so very many lives. There was a weight to that many souls, and they carried him down with them now. His altered form bore the fangs of a monster, a sensitivity to sunlight that forced him to hide in the shadows of night. Worst of all, it demanded blood.

Always blood.

“Please, Michael.” Azrael’s broad shoulders shook slightly as he curled his hands into fists, and the powerful muscles in his upper body drew taut and pronounced. His skin was pale, his hair the color of night, his eyes like the sun. He looked like a study in contradiction as he gritted his teeth, baring his blood-soaked fangs. “Don’t make me beg.”

Michael got his legs beneath him and stood. He backed up against one of the few trees in the area and opened his mouth to once more refuse his brother’s request when Azrael was suddenly blurring into motion.

Michael’s body slammed hard against the tree’s trunk and the living wood splintered behind him. He was weaker than he’d been several minutes before; blood loss drained precious momentum from his reflexes. Though he was able to heal his wound, he was not able to replace the blood that Azrael took from him.

He’d been here before. He and Azrael had been here every night for two weeks.

Michael didn’t know how long he would be able to engage in this nightly battle with his brother. Azrael was very strong. Even half-crazed with pain, he was most likely the strongest of the four of them. The monster that he had become was eating him up inside. It was devouring the core of his being, leaving him an empty shell.

Life was different on Earth. There had been no discomfort before this. No hunger. No thirst. These sensations were novel to Michael, but whatever discomfort he was experiencing because of his new, more human form, Azrael was obviously suffering a thousandfold. His transformation was brutal, and it was killing him.

But Michael wouldn’t give up on him. Not now—not ever. With great effort, he shoved Azrael off of him and prepared himself for another senseless battle with his brother and best friend.

Somewhere, Uriel and Gabriel were most likely struggling as well—either with themselves, or with each other. Or both. Michael had to find them. He had to find them, and bring the four of them back together. They were on Earth for a reason. They had come in order to find the women, the soul mates that the Old Man had created for them. They’d come to Earth to find their archesses. And they didn’t stand a chance at finding their archesses until they found one another first.

Worse, Michael knew that they hadn’t made it to Earth alone. He knew the four of them had been followed. Samael was the one archangel they had reason to fear. He had always been stronger than...