Angel's Awakening

CHAPTER ONE-3

SHE HEARD THE GROWLING hellhound before it appeared in the dingy haze of the tunnel’s sparse lighting. The burnt rubber smell of brimstone assaulted her. Great. A beast fresh from Hell. The humans were no match for this. She ran back to Jack's group where the team busied itself removing all traces of the hellish corpse eaters.

“You guys need to leave.”

“More scavengers? We can handle it,” Jack said, handing a shovel to a member of his posse.

“No, Jack. This is beyond your skill level.”

“Don't dismiss us so easily.”

“I'm not. Trust me.” A deep rumbling howl sounded in the darkness ahead. “Take your people and get out. Now.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest once more and the hellhound's call sounded again. His people gathered behind him, eyes full of questions.

“We'll retreat to the stairs, but if we hear you in distress, we're coming for you.”

“Agreed.”

Jack's team gathered up their gear and shuffled off back to the rickety stairs.

Once they were out of sight, Charouth called her sword again, tightened her grip on it and edged forward.

“Well, what do we have here, Princess?” A bald-headed angel leered at her. The hound lunged, razor sharp fangs bared, straining at the chain that kept her tethered to her master’s side.

“Turn back, Fallen,” said Charouth.

“Prissy one like you giving me orders? I don't think so.”

“There's nothing down this way for you.” Who is this guy? Char ran through her mental Rolodex of Fallen that she knew. Nope. Didn’t recognize him. Didn’t matter. The stench of Hell combined with the power flowing from him gave him away as a very old Fallen. Maybe even one of the first. Great. This mission just skipped horrible and made a beeline straight for disaster.

“Oh, now I'm intrigued,” said the demon. “You reek of human and you're blocking that tunnel. What delicious mortals are you hiding? Princess is hungry.”

“Princess will have to get a meal elsewhere.” She brandished her sword. “Turn back.”

“Get her, Princess,” the Fallen commanded, unhooking the chain from the hound's collar.

Charouth stepped to the side, avoiding the worst of the beast’s initial assault. She backed up against the wall, crushing her wings in the process, and waited for the demon dog’s next attack. A quick bob to the left saved Char from the snapping jaws. She countered with a roundhouse kick to the side that sent the dog sprawling. Princess scrambled to regain her footing, shaking both heads and growling. Charouth swung her sword in a wide arc connecting with one of the snarling, slavering heads. A sizzling sound pierced the air as the severed head plopped into a muddy puddle. Black goo sealed the stump where Princess's head used to be and the smell of burst flesh filled the area. Princess let out a fierce howl and lunged for her again. Charouth swerved. Too slow this time. Fangs sank into her left arm and the sword dematerialized. Godsdammit. She swung a hard left, trying to dislodge the hound with a smack upside the concrete wall. Stunned, Princess released Charouth, then scurried to a darkened corner. Charouth slid to the ground. Clutching the injury, she let loose a string of curses in languages lost to humans millennia ago. For the second time this week raw, agonizing pain coursed through her. The low, hissing sound of her skin melting away added to the horror.

Don’t look. It’s okay.

Recovered from the assault, Princess charged. Her powerful jaws opened wide and lunged toward Charouth’s neck. Just in time she scuttled clear. Too weak to wield the sword, Charouth summoned an S-shaped glaive, took a deep breath, and struck. Blade connected with flesh and the second head flopped to the ground in a sickening thud.

Gotcha.

“Sheanar b***h!” the Fallen snarled.

Charouth staggered to her feet, cradling her wounded arm. Princess’s venom burned her flesh. At full strength, the bite would have been as harmless as a bee sting, but after the massive amount of healing her body had undergone in the past week Charouth was far from fit. The mild skirmish with Princess took too much energy. The last thing she needed was a fight with a Fallen at full power and fresh from the Netherworld. His was the most dangerous type of renegade angel. If they sensed weakness in their prey—game over, man. Game over.

Charouth clenched her teeth through the pain. “Now will you back off?”

“You killed my dog!”

“Same thing could happen to you.”

“You're full of it, sheanar. It's obvious Princess mauled the hell outta that arm of yours. Might want to get it looked at before you lose it.” He c****d his head to the side slightly. “Run along now. Your master's calling.”

Charouth felt a miniscule tingle in her mind. The Fallen must've noticed the glowing brand on her neck that meant an incoming call. Talk about bad timing. Remiel, her master and Maker, wanted a face to face meeting. He would have to wait, even if it meant a new entry added to her roster of inadequacies.

“None of your concern. What are you doing down here, Fallen?”

“I don’t report to you, sheanar.”

Gods, how she hated that term. In the language of Hell it loosely translated to “loyal one”. Given the residents of the Netherworld had no concept of loyalty it made sense they turned the word into the highest insult for angels like her, those who pledged allegiance to the Creator.

In a blink, the bald Fallen rushed to strike. She brought her arm up to block. Damn that poisoned bite. Too slow again. With the flick of a wrist, he grabbed her by the neck and slammed her against the wall. She winced as her wings made contact. Chunks of concrete fell to the ground. His nails lengthened into deadly claws. Blood oozed from her flesh. He reeked of the Netherworld. Her eyes watered, vision dimmed, face flooding red in shame. Oh, the embarrassment of it all. Outmaneuvered by a Fallen. Incapable of protecting humans. Mauled by a friggin’ hellhound. Talk about demotion. She’d be lucky if they allowed her a Watcher position after this.

“I'm gonna love ripping your head off, sheanar.”

The air thrummed with tension and power. Less potent than what the Fallen, radiated but more recognizable, this was the energy she’d felt earlier.

“Release her." A new voice entered this little get together. It was dark and ominous, yet strangely familiar.

The Fallen loosened his grip a bit and turned his head toward the tunnel. It was so quiet. No rats scurrying in dark corners. No dripping water. Not even the distant rumble of a train. Just eerie, disconcerting quiet.

“No worries, man. I just found us a little b***h to play with.”

“Let her go.” The newcomer c****d his weapon. It echoed loudly in the underground silence. “Now.”

“Oh, come on, man. She's a spunky one. We could have fun with her. Before we kill her.”

“Amazarek, let her go. This woman is mine.”

Charouth twisted her head toward the newcomer. Her jaw dropped. She saw a ghost.