Fallen-Angels
Authors: Ashlynn Monroe
Fallen Angels
by
Ashlynn Monroe
Evernight Publishing
Copyright© 2010
Ashlynn Monroe
ISBN:
978-0-9867225-0-9
Cover Artist: Dara
Editor: Hannah Giersdorf
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of
this copyrighted work is illegal.
No
part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without
written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places
are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To all the wonderful people who have encouraged and
supported me.
Thank you for your love,
and for being who you are.
God bless you
all, and also God bless everyone who reads my work.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart!
Fallen Angels
Ashlynn Monroe
Copyright © 2010
Chapter One
Sisters of the Merciful Truth Convent-1861-Texas
“Run!”
Mother Superior called to the nuns. “We need to get out of here!
Hurry sisters, leave the altar vestments, we
must go,
now
!”
This was
the first time Mother Superior had ever felt fear standing within the church.
Watching the young women under her charge
flee into the street, realizing too late her mistake in allowing them to leave
the building.
She watched the men, holding
their guns firmly as charges burst in the air, displaying no remorse over
killing innocent young women and caught her sob, not allowing herself to give
into the pain of what she saw—her sisters lying dead in the street.
She had no idea what to do.
Suddenly their place with the church, their devotion
to the Lord offered no protection.
One of the
girls, a novice who had yet to take her vows, whimpered, “Mother, shall I
pray?”
The small question broke her heart.
She remembered holding the young woman who
had questioned her, rocking her to sleep as an infant.
She took her cold hand as blood spilled into
the dusty street and the bitter, metallic odor of gunpowder infused the air.
They had no weapons.
It was time to pray.
****
Justice was
washing luncheon dishes in the convent kitchen with her sisters.
Grace sat with her feet propped up on a
chair, eating an apple while Purity and Chastity tried to work around her.
Purity scowled and knocked her sister’s feet
out of the way.
Growing up in the
convent had made the daily chores second nature to all but Grace.
The afternoon clean up ritual was their time
to gossip and just be young women and sisters together, and while it could get
tedious, they loved it.
A sudden
rush of noise from the sanctuary rocked the kitchen, interrupting their work.
The wooden bowl Justice was washing crashed
to the floor.
“What on
Earth was that noise?” Purity demanded.
Justice peeked
through the small window.
Men with guns stormed
up the church steps, over the bodies of her beloved fellow nuns.
Justice whirled back away from the window.
“What is
it?” Grace sounded annoyed.
The nunnery
was separated from the church by many out buildings and a courtyard of
carefully tended trees, which must have insulated the sisters from the commotion
of the initial attack.
Justice felt the
safety of her world shatter like glass, the shards cutting her soul.
After the fearful days of being orphans, they
had thought harm could never come to them here. But, Justice noted as she saw
the red soaking into the white clothing of the novices, death obviously did not
discriminate between the pure and impure.
An hour earlier or later and it could have been her blood sisters laying
discarded in the dirt.
Justice
felt unable to answer Grace’s question.
It was just too horrible.
Tears
clouded her vision but she found her voice.
“We’re
under attack.
We have to hide.
Sisters are dead.”
“That can’t
be true!” Grace protested, “No man would harm a sister, his soul would be
damned to Hell for eternity.
Why would
anyone want to hurt any of us?”
Purity’s
voice was bitter as she answered, “We might be brides of Christ, but we live in
this house due to The Family’s generosity.
How many times have we hidden their illegal activities, or cared for
their wounded?”
“We have to
hide, right now!”
Justice hissed.
Purity leapt
from her stool. “I will not let strangers kill our family.
God will protect us.
Hurry, we can help them.”
Justice
watched, stunned, as her sister grabbed a large rolling pin and sprang from the
relative safety of the kitchen.
She glanced
at her remaining siblings, Chastity clenching the broom from the kitchen, Grace
shaking, terrified.
Justice knew Grace was
easily frightened by the world, and she felt a small measure of relief knowing
that she was staying behind safely.
Purity
was far ahead of them and Chastity and Justice rushed to catch up to the wild woman.
Purity had no fear and without intervention she would certainly be one of the
many dead.
The
sanctuary was eerily quiet as they entered, empty and wrong.
Violated.
The church
was empty, but the sound of the rectory door slamming told Justice that the
terror had moved through the sanctuary.
Looking
around, her heart compared the armed men with locusts.
They had destroyed her hallowed place as
pests destroyed a field, the destruction complete and terrible.
Justice set her hand on the worn wood of the
pew and felt something sickeningly warm.
What she had thought was a wine stain on the white altar cloth was
suddenly too red to be the sacrament wine.
Looking around in disbelief, Justice realized that blood corrupted the
sacred space.
It dripped from a nearby
statue of
Everywhere she looked blood of her
sisters, sainted with untimely deaths, splattered the lovingly cared for
church.
She heard a
scream from the rectory and hurtled toward the sound, and suddenly tripped over
something. Something soft. She caught herself against a pew and found herself
looking down into the dead, sightless eyes of Sister Agnes.
A scream wrenched from her throat.
Justice fell back and Chastity caught
her.
“Stay here,”
Chastity murmured. “I’m going to get Purity and drag her back to the
kitchen.
Just stay here.”
Justice
slid to the wooden floor of the church and knelt beside the frail woman’s body,
tears choking her. Sister Agnes dead.
Her
younger sister taking care of her when Justice, as the oldest, should be
looking out for her.
Her world and home
destroyed.
A gunshot
rang in her ears and Justice forced herself to her feet just in time to see Chastity,
her sweet sister, sliding down the wall of the rectory, a smear of blood
painting red along the white wall behind her.
Without a
thought for her own safety, Justice screamed.
The man who had shot her sister turned, gun in hand, and grinned a rotten
toothed grin that made her sick.
His
soft chuckle raised the hair on her arms.
He aimed at Justice.
The moment
froze and she waited to die.
With a loud
thump, the man suddenly fell forward, revealing Purity, rolling pin held high.
The gun slid across the bloody floor toward
Justice and without thought, Justice picked it up and aimed it at the killer.
Her only desire was to protect her sisters
and herself.
She had never held a gun
before.
“You have to turn the crank,” Purity whispered
hoarsely.
Justice
followed the instruction and the world slowed down around her.
A line of red burst across the man’s white
linen shirt and somewhere far away she heard the soft pings of the cartridges
hitting the ground.
For a timeless
moment, Justice stood looking at what she had done and then guilt began to tear
at her soul.
She had committed the worst
of sins.
Purity was kneeling next to
Chastity, shaking her, trying to revive her.
Nothing.
Multiple bullets had
torn through her body and Chastity lay dead in a pool of her own blood.
Justice straightened her sister’s skewed
habit, feeling the automatic weapon dangling heavily in her other hand.
Another scream
rent the air.
It was Grace.
There was nothing Justice could do for
Chastity except save her twin.
Without
thought, she flew out the rectory door, into the bright afternoon sun, fully exposed
to danger.
Several shots fired in her
direction, but she kept running.
Grace
screamed again, and Justice forced herself to sprint faster.
Purity had obviously chosen to take the safer
but longer way, through the building.