Broken Angel Read online

  The Fallen Chronicles:

  Broken Angel

  By

  Mandy Lee Jones

  ( c ) copyright by Mandy Lee Jones, May 2017

  (c ) coverart by Jenny Dixon, May 2017

  Smashwords Edition

  ISBN 978-1-60394-

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Acknowledgements

  Once again I have a list of people as long as my arm to thank for supporting my insane ramblings. A huge shout out to the real Howie Watt (who’s not actually a doctor), for letting me use your likeness in the story. To Stacey and Carla, thank you for reading the ARC version and giving me your feedback – you ladies are all kinds of awesome! Frank, Angela, Filippo, thank you for your unwavering support as usual.

  Kristan Roetker – what can I say, I couldn’t have done this without you!

  Karla Goforth – thank you!

  Madris DePasture – thank you once again!

  Chapter One

  Bataryal

  Bataryal heaved a sigh and pushed a hand through his hair as he shoved his way out the side door of the apartment building and entered the alley. He felt the familiar sensation of his stomach rolling as he cleared the doorway. It was always like this, he’d go home with one of the female demons he’d picked up at The Advocate — the go-to demon bar — fuck their brains out, then sneak out the back door fighting to keep his dinner down. He’d been stuck on repeat for centuries now, but the nausea still seemed to sneak up on him and kick his ass. B leaned back against the brick wall of the building and hunched forward, resting his hands on his knees as he desperately sucked air into his lungs in a bid to slow down the roller coaster in his abdomen. He chuckled bitterly. This was all so ridiculous.

  He’d started his existence as an angel, light and pure, with majestic wings he’d used to soar through the skies. He’d had few cares and fewer problems; that was, until he’d helped lead a rebellion in the heavens. He and a company of his closest friends had been responsible for the deaths of many of their kind, incurring the wrath of The Deity, which led to their expulsion and subsequent fall. As if falling wasn’t bad enough, things for B had only gotten worse from there. He’d been found by demons — naked and injured from the removal of his wings — and held captive for close to a century. All manner of abuses had been heaped upon him, leaving him battered and bruised in both mind and body.

  Since he’d reclaimed his freedom, he’d spent as much time as he could trying to erase the awful memories — being the best fighter, screwing the most women, joking around all the time. But at the end of the day, B knew the truth. He wasn’t just damaged; he was broken beyond repair. He’d already forgotten tonight’s distraction’s name…if he’d even bothered to ask. All he knew for sure was that she’d had red hair. Not the flaming, madly-curling mane he dreamed of, but as close as he could get.

  B closed his eyes and saw her face, not the woman he’d just left, but the one woman he wanted more than anything in all the Otherworld — Mara, the vampire with her wild hair, jade green eyes, infectious laugh, and sharp white fangs. Another wave of nausea rolled through him as he forced her image from his mind. He’d never be good enough for her, clean enough. He was too broken and she deserved so much better. B would just have to make do with cheap substitutes.

  Shoving himself upright, B yanked his Blackberry out of his jeans pocket. The little red light was flashing as he thumbed the keypad to check his messages. There were two new texts. One was from Yetarel, B’s closest friend, asking when he’d be making an appearance back at The Advocate. The other was from Luc…Lucifer, checking in from his honeymoon. B’s heart felt hollow as he read Luc’s message.

  It was a simple note, nothing fancy, just letting him know that he and Katia, his new wife, were both well, telling him that he could come and visit them anytime at their new home in the Czech Republic, but it just served to remind B how empty his existence really was. He could fill it with all the women and fighting in the world, but he would never have the love and peace that Luc had found when Katia came into his life. How Luc had lucked into that relationship was beyond him. Katia was a special woman, strong enough to be Luc’s match in every way, but soft enough to have brought him back his light. Luc was a lucky man indeed.

  B shook his head and rolled his shoulders as he pulled up Yetarel’s number on his phone, time to put his game face back on before he talked to his buddy. Yetarel knew what the real deal was, but he was notorious for answering calls on speakerphone, and B was damned if he’d have anyone else guessing at all the ugly in his past. With a deep breath, B took all the painful thoughts, threw them in a safe and spun the lock. He pasted a cocky grin on his face and thumbed the send button on his cell.

  B turned and began heading toward the mouth of the alley and the lights and sounds of the city. With his phone to his ear, B walked as he listened to the ringing of the line. Three rings in, he heard footsteps coming down the alley behind him. He stopped and stood there listening. The footsteps fell silent. B held his breath and turned slowly to face the source of the noise, alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind. As he completed the one-eighty, he came face to face with a huge problem. Standing a few feet away from him in the semi-darkness of the alley was Keir, Katia’s brother. Luc’s wife had been inconsolable after Satan had used her twin’s body as a vessel for a blackened soul, their last glimpse of him had left everyone shaken, and evil had oozed out of him like an infectious disease. Nobody had heard any news of him in weeks, and now here he was, his jet black hair cut into a Mohawk, an assortment of piercings adorning his pale, angular face, black leather encased his lean body, and his eyes glowed like blood-red beacons in the night.

  The hand holding the Blackberry dropped from B’s ear as he heard Yetarel’s disembodied voice float through the connection. “Hello? Hello? B? Hellooooo?”

  A shiver ran up B’s spine as Keir’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Well, well, if it isn’t Bataryal. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  B schooled his features into an expression of boredom. “Really? I can’t imagine why you’d waste your time on me.” Reaching into his jacket pocket, he fished around a bit and pulled out a cigarette. “Got a light?” he asked, feigning nonchalance. Not a chance in Sheol he’d let anyone on Team Satan know he was shaking in his boots. Since he and his friends had been redeemed a few weeks ago, none of them were really sure where they stood in the supernatural realm. They were no longer servants of Satan, but aside from Luc, none of them had regained their wings…it was anybody’s guess exactly what they were now, and what they could survive. B stuck the cigarette between his lips and raised his eyebrow at Keir.

  Keir smirked at B. “I’m almost tempted to let you have one for the road but, unfortunately, I’m working on a schedule. There are five of you that I’ve been asked to terminate, so time is sadly — not on your side.” He reached under his jacket and began to unwind something from around his waist. “I know the others are holed up in the bar but they can’t remain there forever.”

  B plucked the cigarette back out of his mouth and tucked it behind his ear. “So I drew lucky number one, did I?” He narrowed his eyes at the whip that rested in Keir’s hands. The black leather was studded with nasty looking barbs that glinted in the weak light filtering into the alley.

  “Give my regards to your friend Asmodeus when you see him in Sheol.” Keir cracked the whip, his movements so quick B was almost unable to track them. B hit the deck, his Blackberry crashing to the ground and s
plintering apart on impact. He felt a biting pain as the barbs connected with his cheek as he fell. He sucked in breath at the sting. He leapt to his feet as quickly as he could and began to race down the alley towards the street, his boots pounding on the pavement as he ran. The sound of blood rushing in his ears drowned out the noises around him, making the sounds of the city muffled and distant like he was under water. It was only the chill running up his spine that gave away Keir’s pursuit. The cut on his cheek was burning like the Devil himself as B’s blood dripped down his cheek. Why wasn’t it healing?

  Before another thought crossed his mind, B was struck from behind, sending him sprawling onto the concrete. A steel-toed boot connected with his face and he felt his nose break. B’s mind spun. His wounds weren’t healing as they should have. He could feel the blood, warm and sticky on his face, as he tried to ward off a flurry of fists. His bones cracked and snapped beneath Keir’s assault. Shoring up his remaining strength, B tucked up his legs and kicked out at his assailant, sending Keir flying through the air. B rolled to one side and hauled himself to his feet, staggering a few steps toward the mouth of the alley. There was no way he’d be pursued onto the crowded sidewalk. That was the one positive about the balance that was maintained between the light and the dark — and one of the only things they agreed upon — the standing rule that knowledge about the Otherworld should be avoided among the general human population. Only a few more paces and he’d be in plain sight of everyone on the street. An iron grip clamped down on his upper arm, spinning him around to face an irate Keir. His features were twisted in rage, his glowing red eyes boring into B’s hazel ones. B’s back slammed into the brick of the building behind him, he wheezed as the air was expelled from his lungs with the force of impact.

  “Why can’t you just lay down and die?” Keir spat out at him.

  Knowing he had nothing to lose, B let his smart-ass mouth run rampant. “I’m going to assume that’s a rhetorical question.” He mumbled through his split lips.

  Keir hissed in response, drawing a dagger out of a loop on his belt. “Enough!”

  B felt the dagger bite into the side of his neck as Keir applied pressure. “Shit,” he breathed as he squeezed his eyes shut. He’d imagined how he would go out many times over his long existence…so this was how it was going down. He felt his skin split as the dagger was drawn across his neck. Oddly, it didn’t hurt; he just felt a strange warmth as his blood flowed out onto the ground. A scream pierced the air and B felt his body falling. His eyes snapped open as his skull connected with the concrete. The dagger had landed right beside him, the blade only inches from his eyes. B was able to clearly make out the words etched into the flat surface. In nomine diaboli. Not good. The dagger had been charmed in order to facilitate the killing of immortals. Before his eyes the pool of his blood spread out around the dagger.

  “Oh, fuck.” B groaned as his brain went offline, and he was engulfed in a beautiful darkness.

  Chapter Two

  Mara

  “He asked me to do it as a favor. He was in such a panic. What was I supposed to do?” Mara said as she pushed open the door to the break room for the attending surgeons at St. Joseph’s University Hospital.

  “You’ve always been so adamant you’d never do it. I’m just curious about what tipped the scales this time.” The smooth voice that replied held the slight Scottish burr he’d never managed to get rid of, even after all this time.

  Mara hung her stethoscope on a hook inside her cubby and turned around to face Alexander, her oldest friend. She raised her eyebrow in question. “What are you fishing for, Alex?”

  “Me? Fishing? Never!” Alex replied with mock innocence.

  Mara snorted as she made her way over to the refrigerator and grabbed one of her special juice-boxes. She stabbed the straw into the box and took a long pull. This was such a great time to be a vampire. If you knew where to shop, you could get blood-filled juice-boxes and bagged plasma. You really never had to feed from humans at all. Things had changed a lot since she’d been turned. Grabbing another box out of the fridge, she tossed it over to Alex, who caught it single-handed. “If you want to know something, just ask.”

  Sucking on his straw, Alex narrowed his eyes at her. “All right. Are you into this guy? Is that why you turned his friend when he asked?”

  “Really, Alex?” Mara whined.

  “Really, Mara.” Alex mimicked her as he drained his juice-box and tossed it into the garbage can across the room. “Nothing but net,” he said as it entered the trash dead-center. “I’ve known you for three centuries and you’ve been dead set against ever turning anyone.”

  Mara tossed her box in to join Alex’s. “‘Dead set.’ Funny.” She gave him a wry smile. “Look, he’s not hard on the eyes, and there’s just something about him…so yeah, I guess I’m into him. Doesn’t matter though ‘cause he’s not into me.”

  “His loss.”

  Mara laughed. “This is why you’re such an awesome friend.” She squeezed Alex’s arm. “Plus, Sergei’s a really good guy, and he’s adapting really well to being a vampire.”

  “Just do me a favor. Next time you decide to turn someone, and you disappear for three weeks, let me know what’s up so I’m not sitting around worrying about you. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Mara pulled out a chair and sat. “So, how’s that young guy John doing post-op?”

  “Pretty good.” Alex sat down across from her. “I’m going to get started on fitting him for prosthesis soon. He’s healing up really well, you did great work in surgery…as always.” He smiled.

  “You could have done that operation yourself in your sleep.” Mara said with a roll of her eyes. “You’ve gotten so many qualifications over the years it’s kinda sickening—surgical training, physiology, biophysics, biomechanics — you could probably do every job in this hospital.”

  Alex smiled. “Yes, but you know my passion has always been in prosthetics.” Reaching down he yanked up his pant legs. “With good reason.”

  Mara looked down at Alex’s legs. He’d had prosthetics as long as she’d known him, and that had been an exceptionally long time. He’d told her the story about how he’d lost his legs just below the knee to canon fire at the Battle of Flodden in 1513. Now, he was just plain old Doctor Alexander Stewart. But back then, he’d been Sir Alexander Stewart, Lord Chancellor, eldest son, albeit illegitimate, of King James IV. He would have died had he not been discovered by a fellow soldier as he lay bleeding on the battlefield. That soldier had been a vampire who’d turned Alexander that night. As far as history was concerned, he’d died as a twenty-year-old nobleman, yet here he was five centuries later. He’d found a place in medical science almost immediately after he was turned and had worked in the development and improvement of prosthetics ever since, always on the forefront of innovation. Mara had seen Alex with a variety of prosthesis over time — from iron, to steel, to leather, and now to these very impressive new legs.

  “So, these are the new bionic legs you were talking about,” she said, leaning down to take a closer look. “Are you able to hit top speed yet?”

  Alex smiled. “It’s amazing what you can do with a microprocessor these days.” He dropped his pant legs back down. “We’ll have to test them together, see if I can keep up with you now.”

  “You know I’m super-fast right?” Mara gave Alex an irreverent wink. “I’m not sure if an old man like you can take me.”

  “Ha. Old man! Must I remind you that we’re both technically the same age?” he said with a laugh.

  Mara rolled her eyes. “Give or take two centuries.”

  “Now, now, we were both turned at twenty.” Alex punched her lightly on the arm.

  Mara took in Alex’s face, his short auburn hair, his light brown eyes, and his aquiline nose, all as familiar to her as her own reflection. He’d been a part of her life for so long, her closest friend and confidant, and the only one who knew the state she’d been in after she’d been turned. When Alex had found
her, she’d been a feral vampire, unable to control her hunger. He’d taken her under his wing and given her back her humanity. She owed him more than she could possibly ever repay.

  “Technicalities.” She smiled as her pager went off. “Speaking of age, we’re both going to have to move on from this hospital soon. We’ve already been here too long, and people are going to start asking questions. Time to play young medical prodigies somewhere else.” Mara unclipped her pager from the waistband of her scrubs and peered down at the screen. “Incoming. ETA is two minutes. I’d better head back to the pit to meet the ambulance. Let’s schedule that race. I want to see if I can still run faster than the bionic man.” She jumped up and grabbed her stethoscope out of her cubby.

  Alex stood and performed a very intricate bow as he motioned towards the door. “My Lady.”

  Mara laughed back at him as she headed towards the latest emergency. “You’re such a tool…and I say that with all the friend-love in the world.”

  Chapter Three

  Mara

  Mara twisted her wildly curling red hair into a messy bun as she walked through the pit towards the sliding emergency doors. Living in the human world came with its challenges, and managing the speed at which they moved was a constant nuisance for vampires. Mara’s sedate walk would look like a run to any human watching her progress, but in the fast-paced world of emergency surgery there were times she wished she could streak through the hallways in a blur. She stepped on the sensor and the glass doors slid open with a whoosh, the blaring siren of the approaching ambulance screamed through the air as Mara walked out into the crisp night. The ambulance screeched to a stop in front of the emergency bay doors, the driver jumped out and ran around to throw open the double doors. Mara jumped into action, snapping on her latex gloves as she addressed the EMTs.

  “What do we have?”

  The smell of freshly-spilled blood assaulted her as she moved to get a better view of the vehicle’s occupants. Her stomach clenched and her gums tingled as her fangs threatened to erupt. Taking a deep breath, she muscled down her hunger, forcing it under control so she could focus on her newest patient.