Demon of Darkness (The Hellbound Hellion #2) - Tansey Morgan Page 0,1
I waved a hand, “Take me to the recruits, let’s see what we’re working with.”
Avahi escorted me down a set of stairs that spiraled around the tower I lived in. I was a Lightbringer, a member of the first House of angels, and a leader of Heaven’s armies, and that meant I got the room with the best view, and a tower all to myself. There were perks to being a leader, but as I gazed upon the recruits in the courtyard, I reminded myself of the drawbacks.
They weren’t just fresh; they were practically new.
Angels weren’t just pulled out of thin air. God, despite Her many strengths, was no longer capable of creating them whole cloth anymore, not since Lucifer and the first Rebellion. That meant angels had to be plucked from the ranks of mortals who found their way up here after dying.
Usually, though, mortals went through a process of selection. It wasn’t the most righteous, or the most decent humans who were picked to join the ranks, but the most gifted, and skilled. We didn’t need pacifists and mild-mannered angels to fight for what was good and right; we needed warriors and spies, defenders and peacekeepers.
Above all, we needed individuals who understood we were locked in an eternal war with the Kingdoms of Hell. With demons, the Great Enemy. An enemy that was not only capable of recruiting its own warriors the same way we did—by pulling dead mortals into our number—but who also sometimes lured angels to its side.
Our angels needed to know the time might come when they would be called upon to destroy someone who they’d once fought alongside. I didn’t think the motley group standing in the courtyard, trying their best to look regal, had any idea what they were getting into.
I really was being punished.
As I approached the recruits, they stood to attention, bodies becoming rigid, wings curling behind their backs. One angel hadn’t quite gotten the hang of how her wings worked. She had managed to pull one wing behind her back, but the other shook like a dog’s foot, rebelling against her wishes. Walking over to her, I couldn’t help but grin.
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
“No, sir,” she said, staring at her twitching wing as if she could intimidate it into submission. “Everything’s fine.”
“It takes a moment to get used to them. Just relax… don’t think, feel.”
The girl looked up at me, her eyes wide, and green, and brilliant. She shut them, took a deep breath, and slowly her rogue wing moved back into its proper place. When she opened her eyes again, she smiled brilliantly.
“Thank you,” she said, hastily adding, “… sir!”
“That’s alright.” I craned my neck to look at the others, then moved in front of them to address the group. “Welcome, angels. My name is Dagon, Prince of the first House of Lightbringers, and it is going to be my privilege to train you to be functioning members of our choir. Before we begin, are there any questions?”
A soft breeze pushed through the courtyard, ruffling the many sets of feathery wings arrayed in front of me. Distantly, I heard the soft vibration of an ethereal voice. It was a singing voice, invisible, light, and feminine; little more than a hum at the edge of my hearing and that of any other fully inducted angel.
That was God’s voice.
It was said that to hear her speak would drive even angels to madness; that was why Trumpets existed. They were the only ones capable of withstanding the full might of her commands, and that meant theirs was the privilege—and the burden—of hearing her true voice.
For the rest of us, the hum was enough to let us know our mother was present, watching. But something wasn’t quite right about it. I turned my head to the side, as if by doing so I would be able to hear it a little more clearly. The hum wasn’t exactly getting louder, but it was transforming into something else.
Not so much a song, but more like a whine. A long, drawn out, high-pitched sound like… like the beginnings of a scream.
“Do you hear that?” someone said.
I gave my attention to the gathered angels again. “Who said that?” I asked.
They looked at each other, confused, trying to find the culprit, but nobody stepped forward. I turned to Avahi, who stood studiously behind me. Shrugging, he looked around. “I didn’t hear anything,” he said.
I narrowed my eyes. “Someone spoke. It wasn’t you?”