Angels of War (Angels of War Trilogy Book 1) (20 page)

Joan smiled at Maria. “We will all get the chance to tend to our needs after the battle. At the moment we must stay focused on what matters, or we won’t have any family left to go back too,” she said. Her brown eyes drifted away for a few seconds. Charles’s bright smile filled her memory. “If we fight well we can protect them all.”

Okura narrowed his eyes, swung his head towards Joan. “I understand.”

Joan caught Daisy Lane pierce Okura with her hard green eyes. He did not understand, nor cared to. She refused to spark a debate or a major argument about anyone’s willingness to fight or not. She needed them as together as possible to help lead the units into battle. “I hope you do, Okura. This fight decides the fate of the universe.”
 

Daisy Lane plucked her last apple fritter crumb from the plate and popped the morsel into her mouth. She chased the bit of confection down with coffee. “Sounds corny, Joan. But true.” She smacked her lips. “The next time we all meet as a happy family, we’ll be in Denver.”

Joan nodded. “Save the Key you two,” she said and pointed a slender finger at Okura and Daisy Lane. “She needs us, as much as we need her.”

Everyone stood from the table and Joan paid the receipt and left a tip underneath the salt and pepper shakers shaped like Leghorn Roosters. They walked as a group outside and into the bright sunlight. She and Maria waited for the rescue team to vanish and head off to complete their mission.

Maria shook her head. “The big war, Joan.”

Joan frowned, her black eyebrows knitted together. “Let’s hope it’s not the Apocalypse, Maria. We’re far from ready for such a battle.”
 

34

Long before Temeculus erupted upon the earth, angels fought demons amongst the clouds. As man reproduced and spread out, mysterious anomalies became more apparent. Faint explosions in midair, one-car accidents, people devoured by flames in an instant, massive forest fires. All came down to the continuous war between Heaven and Hell.
 

After Temeculus’s arrival, the air wars subsided as both sides prepared for war on earth. Even in Denver, where the fight would take place, people braced themselves for battle.
 

Civilians evacuated Denver by the thousands as potential citizen soldiers entered the city to join the fight. Jammed freeways caused the military to fly in their hardware and personnel. Many thought the battle would guarantee their souls a place in Heaven. Others wanted to leave the city to avoid the war in its entirety. Too fearful to flee Denver, a few citizens opted to secure their homes, armed with their faith in God and Smith & Wesson.
 

The faithful waited in houses packed with supplies and spied out their windows. They gathered on front porches, sipped lemonade and drank Coors beer as armed troops flowed into the city.

Mayor Paul Sanchez, born to migrant farm worker parents, never thought he would ever experience a Biblical event. A devote Catholic, he started to question the instructions he received all his life. He came to a cold idea: man interpreted the Bible with as much thought as possible. The worlds beyond them, the Kingdom of Heaven, and of Hell remained places with more secrets than he cared to figure out. He assumed the church relied on old speculation and stories mixed with truth.
 

Paul helped create an emergency food center in Jefferson Park and afterwards he hiked over to the military zone at Mile High Stadium. He passed military vehicles and checkpoints, soldiers and police choked the streets. He made sure local law enforcement joined by the military kept the city in relative peace. He counted Denver lucky in a way. When Hell overwhelmed Los Angeles, most cities went up in flames from looters.
 

On CNN other cities fell apart. Denver suffered a few isolated problems, yet the governor sent in the National Guard to stomp out any looters who wanted to burn Denver to the ground.

Mayor Paul Sanchez reached a gate guarded by four big tanks parked out front. The soldiers and tanks sent a chill through his ample body. He displayed his badge to the soldiers at the pedestrian gate and entered. He waved at those who recognized his short stocky frame.
 

He worked his way to the stadium’s main conference room. Several city officials and a few military officers gathered outside the boardroom door. He shook hands, smiled, engaged in small talk until a woman appeared in the lobby and asked everyone to step inside the room.

Paul entered the boardroom with city maps hung on the walls. He did his best to straighten his rumpled yellow shirt. He took a seat at the massive oval table. His assistant came in and handed him city blueprints in rolls. Everyone took their seats as the governor came through the door, haggard with fleshy pouches underneath his red eyes. They gathered at the table covered with files.
 

General Augustus Perkins, a tall, slender, Army general with a gray haired crew cut, oversaw Denver’s defenses. He introduced his fellow officers, along with the governor who sat at the table’s head.
 

General Perkins discussed the troop locations in the areas they thought needed more protection. After the map explanation he turned to Denver’s mayor.

Paul stood and spread his blueprints over the table. He urged everyone to come closer. Once they gathered in, he pointed out key areas throughout the city he thought should be further hardened. A military term he picked up in the last few days.
 

“Here and here, the entrances to the sewers should be protected to keep them from entering and surprising us.” He traced a thick finger along the points where the sewers reached Denver’s delicate heart. “Any infiltration of those areas would mean our collapse,” he said.

General Perkins scrutinized the blueprints. “We can set land mines in this area and early warning devices. We need to weld the manhole covers shut. One of those angels is coming here to help out,” he said and leaned over the blueprints. “Everyone needs to realize Satan’s army must take this city to begin a larger operation of attack. Denver is the jumping point for this entire planetary invasion. They will be stopped here.”

Paul provided as much information as possible when asked. Once the meeting turned to military matters beyond his security clearance, he left and made his way towards the stadium VIP area. He took an elevator up to the booths above the stadium gridiron.
 

Once out the elevator he stepped up to the glass window. Below him, huge tents, along with soldiers and equipment packed the field. He got on his knees, crossed himself, said a prayer and asked God to protect them all. After his prayer, he found his cushioned seat and flopped down. His eyelids became heavy. Within seconds he drifted off into a deep sleep filled with nightmares.

35

Once Maria took to the air, Farmville, Virginia dropped away and turned into a beautiful patchwork woven with green and brown. She closed her eyes. Cool air buffeted her brown face and flowed over her strong wings. Her flight gave her freedom and alone time with her thoughts as she soared through the misty clouds and away from her comrades. What she wanted to think about most surrounded her failure in Mexico.
 

Joan told her not to worry about what happened. Maria, however, believed her botched rescue attempt might end the world and Heaven. Her defeat skulked in her mind like a city rat. She remained adamant to correct her disaster.
 

Maria recalled how she regenerated her upper skull. Every fiber screamed in white pain as she pulled skin and bone back together. Her arms went through the same painful process. The pain resembled a heavy-handed tattoo artist who decided to use several hundred needles in one sitting. She recalled the sharp pain, a yellow butterfly sat tattooed on her left shoulder blade.
 

Joan, always the perfect diplomat, blamed herself instead for the incident. Her excuse for Maria hung on the fact the angel came from a long deep slumber, and her skills did not match Black Angel’s who dwelled in Hell and fought angels before her release upon the planet.
 

Maria though, reassured herself in her ability to defeat Black Angel. Powerful energy coursed through her limbs before the fight started. She never experienced so much strength in her life. At the time, Maria believed her power enabled her to lift twenty dump trucks. Her defeat, she concluded, stemmed from her weak fighting skills.
 

She opened her eyes and took in the downy clouds above her. The blue sky hung clear and bright beyond the clouds as she floated upon the air with confidence. Maria needed to redeem herself, to prove to the other angels her worth.
 

Maria appeared in Heaven as a guardian angel. Her thirst for a good fight did not run deep. Her eternal job from the first time she volunteered involved the Key’s safety.
 

She remembered the angels created by mortal artists, drawn with short curled hair, plump red cheeks. Beings who frolicked in fluffy gowns with delicate white wings on their backs. The group she belonged to never came close to those soft fictional images.
 

She considered the angels of war hard cases built for murder and mayhem. Bloodlust ran rampant amongst her new comrades.
 

She thought Joan as guarded and distant, nursing a cold personality she seemed unable to shake loose. Daisy Lane’s green eyes glittered with restrained madness. Okura, a disgruntled mess, appeared a threat to the team. Also, Joan and Daisy Lane hid a secret neither seemed too eager to impart upon the group.

Maria slipped through the pillowed clouds. An eagle glided upwards, drifted a safe distance from her, banked a hard right, and flew away from the curious and rather large creature. Maria smiled at the eagle. Its powerful wings pushed the predator away with each stroke until the talon-armed bird became a speck against the brilliant blue sky. She followed the eagle with her eyes and drove on.
 

She covered two thousand miles within two hours. She never crossed the American countryside and wanted to take her time, but time did not slow down for the angel. She refused to fly too fast and miss any devilry from General Temeculus.

Maria flew over the Oregon border and after a few minutes, the brisk spring wind carried her into Washington State. The angel slowed her speed and pumped her wings, and traveled further north. She dropped from fifteen thousand feet until her eyes beheld the cities beneath her.
 

Rush hour traffic packed the freeways. Fresh sunlight broke the eastern horizon behind her in a burnt orange ball. In the distance, Mt. Rainer emerged from the horizon with its snowy peek. She descended towards Fort Lewis spread out beneath her.
 

Maria glided towards several four-story brick buildings clumped together. She landed on one, took a deep breath, and dropped through the rooftop and into the commanding general’s office.
 

General Peter Orlando leaped from his desk as a figure fell through his ceiling. His right hand blurred and drew the silver plated .45 on his hip. His trigger finger squeezed off three rounds into the woman who landed before his desk.

Maria jerked as the lead traveled clean through her stomach and embedded into the thick redwood door behind her in a tight three-bullet cluster. Cordite and smoke from the blasts made her sneeze. A hurtful expression crossed her face. “General Orlando, please lower your weapon.”

General Orlando held the pistol steady, gray smoke snaked from the dark barrel. His hardened green eyes narrowed. The large caliber rounds failed to send the stranger sprawling on the floor. Four Delta Force team members swung open his door and charged into the office with weapons aimed at the angel.

Maria folded her arms. “General, I’m here to help you, I’m the angel sent here to help you.” She glanced back at the four uniformed men with rifles trained on her.

The general’s mouth fell open as his grip faltered on the weapon. He tucked the big gun into his waistband, maneuvered around the desk and fell to his knees. Maria gazed down on him.

“Please forgive me, ma’am.”

Maria’s face turned crimson. She grabbed the general by his forearm and helped the silver haired man to his feet. The gunshots resembled gentle pokes to her belly. The burnt odor bothered her most and her ears still rung from the shots. “Come now, Peter. We all make mistakes once in awhile,” she said. “Besides, we need to deal with a bigger problem than you shooting me.”
 

The general rose to his feet as the Delta Force soldiers lowered their weapons and placed their hands behind their backs. He gestured towards a chair. “Take a seat please.”

Maria sat. “Are you leaving for Denver, general?” Her eyes flirted over the numerous decorations hung on his office walls.

General Peter Orlando sat behind his desk. “We’re preparing the troops now. By tonight, we will load up on the C130 transports and head for the San Jose airport to gather some National Guard people, and we’re off to Denver. Did the enemy leave Los Angeles?”

“Some parts of their army left with intentions to slow down the Marines. Another company left to take San Francisco. The company heading to San Francisco may take longer to get to the city, so we must do what we can to stop their advance north.”

“What are they trying to do to San Francisco?” Peter Orlando folded his heavy hands on the desk.
 

“They need more recruits, general. They plan to recruit while moving north. Those who refuse their offer are going to die.” She shook her head. “When we land in San Jose, we need to send a portion of your regiment to stop Lord Goth.”

“You’re asking me to go off mission?”

“No, general. Denver is still your mission, our mission. We need to divert enough troops to stop Goth from reaching San Francisco. Understood?”

General Orlando nodded. “I understand.”

“They are being led by a demon named Lord Goth, he’s one of General Temeculus’s heralds,” Maria said. She smiled as the man’s intelligent green eyes clouded over.