The Bloodshed Of The Betrayed (The Mercy Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  Copyright © 2021 Amy Anthony/A. L. Slade

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Publication Data

  Anthony, Amy.

  The Bloodshed Of The Betrayed / A. L. Slade

  Series: The Mercy Chronicles ; Book 1

  Summary: “Upon falling in love with a human, angel Laramie sets off a series of events that changes both of their lives forever and leads towards an unwilling affiliation with Lucifer himself”

  ISBN-13: 9798458182164

  Cover design by: Amy Anthony

  The contents in this book are purely fictitious however some elements may be triggering to certain individuals. Included are mentions of self-harm, assault, parental abuse, blood, suicide, death, insomnia, eating disorders/mental illnesses, domestic abuse, sexual assault and rape. If any of these topics are triggering to you, I would advise you to continue with extreme caution. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

  This is for Jennica Comley,

  The first true fan of my work.

  Prologue

  Laramie shuffles into the Fulfillment Room once the angel ahead ducks out and leaves. She strides forward and stops in the center of the room, her body language reserved and submissive. A circular halo protrudes from the top of her scalp into a vertical ring of blazing light that binds all angels as God’s followers by forcing them to rely on God for their sight.

  ‘There is a task awaiting your… prowess which pertains to the happenings of Earth.’ Laramie’s designated Authoritarian Razael barks, one of many granted the responsibility to regulate the inner workings of Heaven and dole out consequences.

  The hierarchy of Heaven, also known as the Angelic Choirs, classifies each angelic rank within three Triads. The First Sphere is composed of Authoritarians, Seraphim; fiery six-winged beings who personally oversee God’s throne as their immediate attendants and Elders; a modest assembly who listen to the will of God as living symbols of their justice and authority. The Second Sphere consists of Dominions; powerful beings who regulate the duties of lower angels, Virtues; the angels most frequent with their excursions to Earth, as they are those through which signs and miracles are made in the human world and Powers; those who supervise the affairs of angels to maintain order in the cosmos. The final triad, the Third Sphere, are Scribes; the educators and monitors of Earth who control what knowledge Humans possess of Heaven and God’s existence and manipulate it in whatever way God (or their Authoritarians) commands, Archangels; those entrusted with specific and crucial tasks within Heaven, and finally, Angels; the lowest order of celestial beings most concerned with the affairs of Heaven.

  When Razael speaks, Laramie raises her head ever so slightly, and her tawny amber wings protruding from her back flutter behind her, resting carefully around her shoulders. ‘Something is amiss at 43.013000, -81.218900.’ Laramie immediately recognizes the coordinates relayed as one of her frequent stopovers, Lauder Ontario. ‘You have been enlisted to go there and record any irregular behaviour. A disturbance has been sensed and requires surveillance. You will be issued a Conversion Clock. Record your findings and meet with Scribe Batair to ensure they are transcribed properly.’

  Laramie lifts her head, inky black hair parting around her face, to find a familiar gold stopwatch, a furled parchment strip, and an ornate quill-like pen placed atop the cardinal pedestal sat in the center of the room. She nods her head solemnly. “I will not disappoint.”

  The air thins, and Laramie can feel Razael glowering. ‘I should expect not. Go now.’

  Laramie swipes the pedestal’s contents and is about to proceed to the exit when she’s hit with a strange sensation the moment she grabs the items. She falters, processing the impossible foreign feeling that leaves her momentarily stunned. Quickly returning to her senses, Laramie chooses to ignore it in favour of focusing on her newest assignment. She promptly exits the room, pocketing her tools as she soars towards The Passage—the portal separating Heaven’s and Earth’s relative domains.

  She lands gracefully just in front of the bright, round spherical vortex adorned with multiple rings of cloud-like light swirling around the small porthole-sized opening. Aware of the Power stationed a few feet away, Laramie watches as he steps forward to unseal the rift before returning to his post.

  Laramie flexes her wings and steps past The Passage that expands to replicate her silhouette, thus beginning her descent to Earth.

  Magda

  Unlocking the door to my dorm, I step inside with a somewhat dramatic sigh and close the door behind me. After just getting back from an hour-long lecture, all I want to do is take a nice long nap, preferably one I can wake up from after exams are over once I already have my degree, but that’s neither here nor there.

  I suck at introductions, so bear with me here: hi. My name is Maggie Mercy, I’m twenty-three years old, and I’m currently studying at my hometown University—Salcombe University—for my MD. I’ll save you the uninteresting origin story regarding my lifelong fascination with medicine because, let’s face it, that’s really boring. All you need to know is I’m studying to become a doctor.

  Shrugging my backpack off my shoulders, I kick off my shoes and begin unpacking my books to study, something I feel like is all I ever do anymore. Turning on my music as background noise, I grab the textbooks I need alongside my notebook before submerging my focus within my studies.

  Since I’m essentially just another broke college student, you’d be right to assume my dorm isn’t very nice. It’s small, and I’ve procrastinated properly furnishing it since I initially moved in (not that I even own that much stuff anyway), which means I’ve got a few stacks of partially unpacked boxes scattered around the room. It’s got everything a basic room needs, though; a bed, a desk, a bathroom, and a dresser, but nothing more really. The only thing I bothered to install in my room is a painting my younger brother got me for my sixteenth birthday; a grey canvas with ‘WORLD’S OKAYEST SISTER’ written in bold black letters.

  I nearly jump out of my skin when my phone suddenly rings. I drop my pencil and check the caller, smiling when I see it’s a FaceTime request from Dad. Eagerly accepting the call, I prop my phone up against the stack of books on my desk just as the call connects.

  “Finally figuring out technology, are we?” I joke with a grin. “Hey, Dad.”

  Dad’s smile seems forced. “Hi, Magda. Just calling to check up on you. How are things?”

  I nod. “Pretty good. Where’s Mom?”

  He chuckles. “What, you can’t stand to have a nice conversation with your dear old dad for once without your mother? Do you not love me as much as your mom?”

  “You hit the nail right on the head, old man.”

  Dad smiles. “She’s in the bathroom right now. So what’s going on with you?”

  “Well, I just got back from class like, ten minutes ago. I’m doing some studying now since I have another class in a few hours.”

  “Oh, sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Nah, it’s cool. I’m always happy to hear from you.”

  He glances around nervously, distracted almost. He seems unusually troubled, which leads me to believe som
ething’s going on. But what? And why hasn’t he told me? “Is everything okay?”

  He nods quickly. Too quickly. Something’s definitely up. “Of course! Everything’s just fine with us. How’s College treating you?”

  “Pretty good, actually,” I’m unconvinced but decide against prying. “It’s a lot of work, and I’ve been pretty exhausted lately from the overall workload, but I’d say I’m enjoying it… I think.”

  Dad smiles and exhales heavily, glancing away from the screen in silence for a few moments. He finally bobs his head and turns back to the camera. “Well, sweetie, I just wanted to see how things were with you.”

  I nod slowly, suspicious. This is weird. “Yeah, okay. You’re acting kinda weird, Dad. Well, weirder than usual. You sure everything’s okay?”

  “Of course!” Dad says. “Never been better. Feeling spiffy.”

  “Whenever I forget how old you are, you always open your mouth, and I’m reminded once again of your exceptional seniority.”

  That comment rouses a hearty laugh from Dad. He throws his head back in a loud guffaw which, in turn, makes me grin widely. “Oh, sweetie, I needed that laugh,” He says, chuckling. “I should go now. I love you, Maggie.”

  “Oh, okay. Bye, I love you too.”

  “I hope we’ll get to see you soon,” He says with a sad smile. He almost looks like he’s in pain. Seriously, what is going on with him?

  “Me too,” I answer. I blow a kiss to the screen and wave before Dad ends the call. I sit back in my chair for a few moments, conflicted and stunned. What’s going on with him? What’s making him act so weird and upset, and why isn’t he talking to me about it? I can’t help but mull over what could make him so visibly nervous in my head. Is something wrong with Oscar? Mom? Is something wrong with Dad himself? Or am I just overthinking?

  I chuckle humourlessly. Probably the last one since I tend to overthink and needlessly scare myself with the worst possible scenarios even though none of them are ever accurate, or even realistic for that matter.

  Sighing, I force myself to focus back on studying, desperately trying to filter out all the intrusive thoughts needlessly popping up in my head.

  Laramie

  Laramie lands gracefully, shrugging her shoulders to shake her feathers out. She pulls the Conversion Clock from her robe and clicks it open, the gold metal shining brilliantly in the sunlight. One side of the clock displays human time while the other translates the time to angelic terms.

  Friday, October 2, 2020, 11:26 am or Noontide as angels know it. Nodding, Laramie closes the stopwatch and pockets it once more, promptly scanning her immediate surroundings for the city. A sidewalk branches off towards a small town, and Laramie immediately recognizes it as Lauder. Hopping back into the air, she soars above the rooftops and towards a large building bustling with human activity; Salcombe University.

  Soaring just above the main entrance to the building, Laramie snatches her scroll and pen and perches atop the concrete awning allowing her legs to dangle over the edge.

  Determined to favourably complete the job she’s been assigned to prove Razael’s constant expectation that she’ll fail wrong, Laramie melts into the routine practice of observing and recording. Glancing around as she unfurls her scroll, Laramie’s eyes dart methodically across the familiar atmosphere for anything that may be out of the ordinary. She watches intently how humans’ bodies move; the way their chest rises and falls with each intake of breath; the way their body shifts when they walk; the way their eyes flutter, blinking or not; the way their hair flows in the wind, bouncing off their back; the way they smile and their eyes light up if they smell an appetizing food; the way they hold things, delicately cradling the object in the palm of their hands; the way their face falls when their expression shifts. Given that angels have no emotions, seeing humans endure passions is even more fascinating for them; or at least to Laramie, it is. She often reminds herself of what honour it is to be a Virtue, as is the only type of angel allowed to venture onto Earth.

  Laramie eases herself into the routine of identifying everything of significance and filtering it by importance in her head. Not one small detail goes unnoticed by her, hence her proficiency as a Virtue.

  She takes note of the slight limp in human #58’s steps (Laramie’s nicknamed the regulars by numbers to clear confusion behind who is who), the way human #23 keeps grasping at his hair, human #12’s hunched posture as she staggers inside, human #4’s abnormal attire; instead of her usual black pants and blue winter jacket she now wears a knee-length sleek blue dress with tall boots to match and her hair and makeup appears professionally done. She shivers from the cold bite of the October air and walks hurriedly. Laramie makes sure to record that.

  The Virtue pours herself into her task, senses heightened and prepared to detect even the slightest disturbance. Everything feels relatively normal enough as nothing strikes her catastrophically wrong, as Razael had implied, yet she can’t help but anticipate something big and bad approaches. Why else would she, of all her peers, be asked to supersede this? She’s the most brilliant amongst her peers, and her tasks consistently pertain to high-stake situations.

  Her concentration is seized when she catches sight of a dark figure hunched beneath a tree nearby. All she can see with his back facing her is his light, ruffled hair, dark robes, and what looks like the glint of armour in her periphery. Cocking her head, Laramie’s jaw tenses, and she squints at the sight of long wings folded behind him.

  Leaning forward, Laramie grips her quill tightly as she stares at the figure. Their head turns slowly, and as soon as his face becomes visible, his malicious smirk paralyzes her in place.

  Shaking her head, Laramie rushes to gather her thoughts while viciously scrawling in her parchment, gazed fixated on the figure. Her eyes momentarily scan his surroundings for anything explanative of his presence when she catches sight of a young woman heading into the University.

  The Beginning Of The End

  Laramie

  Wow.

  She is ineffable.

  I cannot comprehend or even begin to understand the truly sensational feeling that pervades my chest when I see her. As soon as I caught sight of her in my periphery, I couldn’t bring myself to look away. As soon as I see her, I’m struck by the presence of her soul.

  Even if it was merely for a second, I became transfixed in its sight. Its colour is indescribable, one not yet seen nor termed by humans; a warm hug promising comfort and safety, the burst of uncontrolled laughter in a spontaneous moment of happiness and the purest intimacy one could experience with their most trusted partner. It feels like home.

  She has determined ovular almond eyes, deep brown irises focused intently ahead of her. Her long silky brown hair shimmers in the sun and sways in the wind with every bouncing step. There’s a persistent eagerness in her gait, toned legs sliding across the concrete with confidence and calculation. She has pronounced Aboriginal features; a strong, chiselled nose and taupe skin dotted with a constellation of acne across her face.

  A tugging in my gut calls me to follow the human. I hesitate, turning back to the figure who looks at me for another moment before fleeing. My immediate reaction has me lunging to follow behind. However, I can’t seem to bring myself to leave the human after turning back to face her. Unable to fight the compulsion to follow her, I allow myself to drift behind her on the sidewalk.

  Razael’s voice reverberates in my mind as soon as I make a move to follow the human. ‘Do not discontinue your task. You have one chance not to abscond, or the consequences will be dire. Return to your post and continue recording irregular behaviour.’

  Despite his warning against it, I can tell that what Razael really wants is for me to abandon my post. The most diminutive form of infraction of Razael’s rules will eagerly find him banishing me for good, something he will unquestionably advocate for.

  Something worrisome and thick crawls up my neck, threatening to engulf me. As much as I know my fate depends on my loya
lty and obedience to God, I know I must follow the human and uncover what is going on and why. The sudden presence of feelings within me means this human responsible for it supersedes my assigned task.

  I ignore Razael’s warning in favour of following the human, careful enough not to touch her or make any contact with her. My main and only priority is to observe, not interact. And even if I did desire interaction, it would be foolish (or rather catastrophic) to act on said desire considering if contact ensues between an angel and a human, the angel will turn to stone as a form of punishment for disobeying God’s order.

  Despite that, I feel compelled to expose my being to her, as angels’ forms are invisible to the human eye unless premeditated and authorized by a superior. Each angel’s being and essence—or what we call our Grace—(that inhabits a mortal-looking form) is pure unrefined light that is what flows as blood beneath our skin.

  Now, however, I find the urge to reveal myself to this human nearly irresistible. Oh, how positively delightful it would be to know she can see me; that I no longer must glide unseen by her, no matter the short duration I’ve known her.

  I know Razael and God will not approve of my fascination, but the way I feel is unexplainable. And what an absolute bliss, yes bliss, it is to feel.

  Angels are emotionless soldiers who follow God without question. Emotions are a hindrance we lack to pertain to more essential tasks; therefore, there has never been any use in learning what these emotions are and what they mean. Therefore I cannot confidently determine the emotion I feel, as there is nothing I may compare it to, experience or knowledge. Is it lust? Infatuation? Obsession? Adoration? There is no way for me to tell.

  Besides, where have these emotions originated? I have been emotionless since my conception. Why have I begun to feel now? What differs from my prior circumstances? Has something changed? Have I been tainted somehow? Beguiled by a temptress human? What has happened to me?