Blood and Feathers

Praise for Lou Morgan

“A hell of a ride, but heaven to read: eerie, compelling and very funny.”

Michael Marshall Smith

“Dark, surreal and wickedly funny, Lou Morgan’s reimagining of the war between Heaven and Hell mixes angels, alcohol and ammunition to serve up a joy of a read.”

Tom Pollock

“It’s a challenge to take concepts older than the calendar and make them seem new. Louise Morgan has done just that. How to describe this, her debut novel? Bloody Heavenly!”

Guy Adams

“Dark, enticing and so sharp the pages could cut you,
Blood and Feathers
is a must-read for any fan of the genre.”

Sarah Pinborough

“A storming debut! Lou Morgan writes with confidence, style and verve. Who would have thought that going to Hell could be so much fun? A must-read.”

Mike Shevdon

First published 2012 by Solaris

an imprint of Rebellion Publishing Ltd,

Riverside House, Osney Mead,

Oxford, OX2 0ES, UK

www.solarisbooks.com

ISBN: (epub) 978-1-84997-436-3

ISBN: (mobi) 978-1-84997-437-0

Copyright © Lou Morgan 2012

Cover Art by Pye Parr

The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of he copyright owners.

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

For James.

Upside down, on fire, and always.

“Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell.”

–
Paradise Lost

“Therefore Hell hath enlarged herself,

and opened her mouth without measure...”

– Isaiah 5:14

CHAPTER ONE

Teeth

“M
UM
! M
UM
!”

“What?” Iris stuck her head around the shower curtain, listening.

“The toast’s jammed again – it’s getting all burnt! And there’s teeth on the lawn.”

“Oh, for crying out loud. Unplug it, then see if you can jimmy it out with a wooden spoon. A
wooden
one!” She stepped back under the running water. “Give me strength... Wait –
teeth
?”

F
IVE MINUTES LATER
, Iris was wrapping a towel around her head and standing in a puddle in the kitchen, peering out at the lawn. “Teeth?”

“Look.” Jack pointed, scattering crumbs on the draining board. Sure enough, there they were – right in the middle of the lawn, a ring of sharp white points that had most definitely not been there the night before. They towered over the shrubs, standing at least as high as a man. Iris stared at them for a moment, then turned and fixed her teenage son with a frown. “Is this anything to do with you, Jack?”

“’snot me,” he said through a mouthful of toast. “Ask Addy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Your sister’s eight years old – and use a plate, would you? You’re getting bits everywhere.”

“So what if she’s eight? Addy was the one with the cling film last year. You blamed that on me, too.”

“That isn’t the point. Clean up that mess, please. And don’t go anywhere near that... that
thing
.” Iris tugged at the edge of her makeshift turban. She left Jack eating his toast, and went back upstairs.

S
HE WAS JUST
picking up the hairdryer when Jack’s voice drifted up the stairs again. “Mum?”

“What is it this time?”

“You’d better come see.” Something about his tone made her heart jump, and she dropped the dryer.

When she got to the kitchen, the back door was open, and through it she could see him standing beside the ring of... whatever they were. He looked back over his shoulder at her, and even from this distance she could see how pale his face was.

It was beginning to rain, and the water was soaking into his school shirt, but he did not move.

“Jack? Jack! Whatever’s the matter? What are...”

Iris did not finish her sentence. The ground beneath her shifted and lurched, pitching her sideways. “Jack!”

And when she looked up, he wasn’t there. There was nothing there except for the rain, and those strange white
things
.

And where was Addy? Jack had called her downstairs, hadn’t he, said she had better come into the garden. What had he wanted her to see?

Still off-balance, she half-walked, half-scrambled closer... and all at once she realised why he had been so pale, just why he had been staring back at her.

T
HEY
WERE
TEETH.
You could see it, up close. They looked larger now than they had from the window. Had they grown? A little voice in her head told her that was impossible; how could they have grown? She chose to ignore it, just as carefully as she chose to ignore the other little voice – the one that was telling her there were
teeth
in the
middle
of the
lawn
, and that in itself was pretty bloody impossible, particularly on a Tuesday.

The jagged points, the smoothness of the sides, the ridges of earth below them, like gums. They towered over her, so much taller than she had first thought. And between them, where there had been grass and moss and flowers only yesterday, was a gaping hole leading down into... a mouth.

A throat.

“Jack?” Her voice sounded weak against the rain.

She crept closer to the edge of the mouth that had opened in the middle of their dull, ordinary, suburban garden.

“Jack? Addy?”

The ground shook again, this time knocking her flat on her face and then rolling her sideways, dangerously close to the edge. She slowly, carefully, dragged herself closer and stared down into the dark, calling her children. Not a sound came back – not even an echo. There was only the darkness within, and the noise of the rain on the grass. She leaned as far out as she dared, throwing an arm around the base of a tooth for support. It was cold, slippery to the touch, but she hung on as the world around her tilted again. She might have screamed; she didn’t think so, but she couldn’t be sure.

The throat had stairs.

Sweeping around it was a narrow staircase; beginning behind the tooth to her left and ending... who knew where?

Iris lay back on the wet grass, feeling the rain on her neck, and she made a choice.