Falling (The Falling Angels Saga)

BOOK: Falling (The Falling Angels Saga)
6.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Praise for E. Van Lowe's Falling Angels Saga:

Boyfriend from Hell
doesn’t make you laugh out loud at least a dozen times, then maybe you’re a zombie.” -
Mike Price
, executive producer/writer,
The Simpsons


“A thrilling suspense / mystery / fantasy book mixed with reality and some romance scenes that will get you hooked up till the end.”
-Lalaine Faye
Lalaine's Fiction Book Reviews


Boyfriend From Hell
was a great surprise. I didn't know what to expect before reading it but it was a fast and fun read that made me laugh more than once. What made
Boyfriend from Hell
unique to me was the sometimes tongue-in-cheek tone it had. It's a great YA that's also poking fun at some of the predictable Young Adult clichés. If you like paranormal YA but sometimes find yourself rolling your eyes at the way the characters are acting, you'll love this book too.” -
Lisa Choboter,
Cold Moon Violet Books

“E. Van Lowe's fluid and masterful writing made this book one that I needed to finish.”
-Elizabeth Talbott
Fishmuffins of Doom

“E. Van Lowe does a great job of capturing teenage angst, dating woes, and parental issues without over-doing it.
Earth Angel
was just as fun to read as
Boyfriend From Hell
-Nicole Etolen
Pretty Opinionated

“I just finished the last sentence and I'm left stung that I have to wait for the final book to come out. I can't wait! I loved the first book, and was so excited by a story of a girl battling Satan. I mean, how cool is that?”
-Freda Mans
Freda's Voice

Other Books by E. Van Lowe:

Boyfriend From Hell
(Book 1 in the 
Falling Angels Saga

Earth Angel 
(Book 2 in the 
Falling Angels Saga

Heaven Sent 
(Book 3 in the 
Falling Angels Saga

Never Slow Dance with a Zombie

The Zombie Only Knocks Twice

For The 25
Copyright © 2014 by E. Van Lowe
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Print version ISBN: 978-0-9836329-7-9

        Library of Congress Control Number: 2014902800
All rights reserved including the right to reprint or transfer in any form without the prior written permission of the publisher. To request permission to reprint any portion of the book, e-mail [email protected] and in the subject heading, write the name of the book.

Editor, Christopher Meeks

Book Design, Adara Rosalie

Published by White Whisker Books, Los Angeles, 2014

(Book 4 in The Falling Angels Saga)
by E. Van Lowe


White Whisker Books,
Los Angeles
There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
1 John 4:18
Chapter One

The thing about clutter is it sneaks up on you.

One day you’re living in a home that’s tastefully decorated with brilliant-yet-inexpensive artwork, a few antiques, and a sofa that’s perhaps seen better days; then right before your eyes, your lovely home is transformed into a junk-heap, chock full of so many boxes and cartons of who-knows-what, it looks as though you moved in yesterday. For the record, we moved in eleven years ago, when I was five.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad my mother’s found a new passion in her life. It’s great she’s discovered a way to turn her obsession with garage and estate sales into a lucrative business. But I have a question: if the business is going so well, how come our house is filled with so much crap?

“It’s not that bad,” said Suze as she sipped her coffee. Her face was buried in the morning paper where she was, no doubt, scouting out estate sale targets for next weekend.
Ah, more crap.

“It’s not that bad if you don’t
at it,” I said with a tiny bit of snark in my voice. I moved to the fridge where I pulled out the orange juice. Suze looked up from her paper, taking in the room as if seeing the clutter for the first time. “Did you know there used to be a table under all that mess?” I added, gesturing toward the stacks of paper and file folders now cluttering the kitchen table where there was barely enough room for her coffee mug.

“Funny. You made your point,” she said, her eyes falling back into the newspaper. So, I guess I hadn’t made my point. “Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” she added, without looking up.

That wasn’t true. I woke up feeling electric. There was a wonderful, positive energy coursing through me when I opened my eyes in the morning. I’d had another night of dreamless sleep, my second in a row, which, for me, was both an accomplishment
a blessing.

My dreams aren’t like most people’s. Satan visits me in my dreams, and while he’s there, he talks of plans for our wedding day—a day he promises isn’t too far into the future. My dreams aren’t just dreams, they’re omens.

I couldn’t share any of this with my mother. She knew nothing of my paranormal life, and I intended to keep it that way. What I didn’t intend on doing, however, was to continue living in a house filled to the brim with boxes.

“I’m happy for you, Mom. I really am, but you know how clutter affects me. It makes it hard for me to think. And this being my junior year, you know how important my grades are.” I pulled a glass from the cupboard and poured out three fingers of OJ.

Suze again looked up, and this time there were the beginnings of a smile brightening her face. “Junior year,” she said with a soft sigh and a dreamy look in her eye. “Where does the time go?”

Uh-oh. She was getting that you’re-growing-up-too-fast look on her face. Nothing good could come of that look, unless I considered a fifteen-minute stroll down memory lane good. I needed to refocus her before she went to the cupboard and pulled out my bronze baby shoes.

“I agree. Where does it go? Two months ago, you could have put this house on the cover of
Beautiful Homes
magazine, now you can put it in…” I paused, my gaze passing over the boxes and piles of clutter in our kitchen, breakfast nook, dining room and living room. “Hmm. I’m not sure. Maybe that TV show about hoarders would take it. Nah! Even they’d pass on this mess.” I downed my orange juice in one quick gulp, like a cowboy shooting a shot of Redeye in an old western movie. Breakfast was done.

Suze laughed lightly. “Come on, hon. It’s not that…” She stopped, catching herself mid-repeat, her eyes dancing over the mess, and this time really seeing it, because in all honesty, it
that bad. She let out another gusty sigh. “I guess Tony and I got carried away with our purchases this past month. But there are so many good deals out there.”

“I know. And I’m happy you have the eye to spot those deals. And I know you’re going to make a fortune selling all this ju… wonderful stuff. I just want my home to look like a home and not the Wheeling warehouse.”

“Point taken,” she replied. “I’ll ask Tony if he can store some of our inventory at his place. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said, although I doubted if Tony could keep enough of their inventory in his tiny apartment to put a serious dent in our clutter problem. But it was the thought that counted, so I let it slide.

“Pretty soon we’ll be filling out college applications,” she said in a soft sing-song, releasing her second
you’re growing up too fast
sigh of the morning.

“Stop rushing me out of the house, Mom. My junior year just started three weeks ago.”

My goal accomplished, I gathered my things together and got out of there fast, before she had me enrolled me in Harvard or some other ivy-walled institution. College was the last thing on my mind. Besides, I knew if Satan had his way, I wouldn’t need to worry about which college I’d be attending. I was pretty sure Satan’s plans for me didn’t include getting a bachelor’s degree.

It was a beautiful fall morning. Here in the desert, fall can feel a lot like summer. Yet, this year, the steamy summer temperatures had leveled off nicely, even though it was just mid-September.

While I rode the bus, I opened my U.S. History book, intending to do a read-through of the weekend assignment, but my mind kept drifting back to my problem with Satan. Satan had tricked me during our battle several months ago by gifting me with some of his power. I thought the power had rubbed off accidentally. I should have known better. There are no accidents when it comes to the devil.

I’d been warned by Orthon—the demon Satan had sent to seduce me into using my abilities—
to use my abilities. Orthon had fallen in love with me and readily spilled Satan’s insidious plan: The more I used my abilities, the closer I would grow to Satan.

The only way to ensure that you will not become his bride is to cease using the abilities at once,

Orthon had told me.

Unfortunately, I didn’t heed his warning. How could I? I needed to use my abilities to free Erin from the grip of a satanic cult. I’m glad I did it. If faced with the same dilemma, I’d do it again.

I got off the bus, Glendale Union High looming before me. It was time to put thoughts of Satan out of my mind. Maudrina always met me at my locker in the morning. I needed to have a smile on my face instead of the lines of worry I was sure were creasing my brow. No sense in both of us worrying.

I was told that by using my abilities, I’d become so dark I’d
to marry Satan. Those words were my ray of hope, the glimmer of sunlight in this gloomy mess. I couldn’t imagine anyone voluntarily wanting to marry the devil, especially a Goodie Two Shoes like me.

Besides, I didn’t seem to be getting any darker. I hadn’t changed at all during the summer, not since my ordeal at Tavares Castle in early July. I was still my sweet self. Even the out-of-character outbursts had stopped, along with the windstorms that sometimes accompanied my anger. And since I didn’t plan on using my abilities ever again, I was hoping Satan’s visits to me in my dreams were merely a lot of bluster. The way I saw it, if Satan were going to wait for me to turn dark, he’d be waiting a long, long time.

I spotted Maudrina by her locker changing out some books. I put on my best Monday-morning smile as I started toward her. When she looked up, it was as if the worry lines once on my brow had transferred to hers. Something was wrong. She slammed shut her locker door and instead of waiting for me to arrive, rushed toward me. Hooking my arm into hers, she spun me around the other way.

BOOK: Falling (The Falling Angels Saga)
6.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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