Fallen angel, p.1
Fallen Angel, page 1
part #16 of Ironspell Chronicles Series
Fallen Angel
Book 16 of the Ironspell Chronicles
MH BONHAM
Llaughing Llama Media, LLC
© 2024 by M. H. Bonham.
Published by Llaughing Llama Media, LLC.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
Cover by M.H. Bonham.
Printed in the United States of America
0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
The Ironspell Chronicles Series
(Asterisk Denotes Full-Length Novels)
That Dragon was in No Way my Fault (Book One)
A Date with a Werewolf (Book Two)
Alchemist Rules (Book Three)*
Elfshot (Book Four)*
The Trouble with Bats (Book Five)
Wolfsbane (Book Six)*
Oathbreaker (Book Seven)*
Winter of Our Discontent (Book Eight)
Hellfire (Book Nine)*
Yes, Ironspell, There is a Santa Claus (Book Ten)
Frost and Fire (Book Eleven)*
The Daemon in the Details (Book Twelve)
The Name of the Daemon (Book Thirteen)*
The Last Templar (Book Fourteen)*
Technomage (Book Fifteen)
Fallen Angel (Book Sixteen)*
Daemon’s Run (Book Seventeen – Coming Soon!)*
Chapter One
Do you know what angels do when they’re depressed? Apparently, they get shit-faced drunk, or at least that’s what Michael the Archangel did.
After announcing he was now among the Fallen, he demanded the best single malt Irish whiskey, took the bottle, and proceeded to drink himself into a stupor at my table. And they tell me I should get out more…
Let me back up a second.
My name is Bob Ironspell-Cabas, and I’m an officer with the Denver Wizard Task Force or DWTF. Yeah, an unfortunate acronym. But somehow, everyone forgets I have a first name and a hyphenated last name, so they just call me Ironspell. Probably because no one is afraid of a wizard named “Bob,” and the people who pay attention to my hyphenated last name usually use it to nickname me “Cabbage.” What do you expect from your fellow cops?
Ahem.
Nobody calls me Cabbage now, mainly because I have the chops of saving the world at least three times. That kind of nickname goes right out the window when you show just how powerful you can be.
“You—you called him ‘Cabbage?’” Michael blinked, bleary-eyed at my partner, a Frost Giant named Vetr. Vetr wasn’t shit-faced even though he had been guzzling mead alongside the angel as Michael downed the whiskey. Yeah, Vetr’s an honest-to-gods Jotun who somehow managed to get employed with the DWTF.
They both burst out laughing at my expense, which I guess was better than dealing with a sulky Archangel.
“Cabbage, huh?” Droid, my now former friend from college, eyed them both with a sly grin on his face.
“Call me that and I will feed you to Fenrir,” I growled. I wasn’t kidding. I could do that, too. The Wolf of Ragnarok is my soon-to-be father-in-law and I am his guardian. Long story, that. Luna, his daughter and my fiancée, is half-werewolf and half Jotun.
Speaking of my fiancée, that moment Luna was looking at Michael in bemusement. The rest of the patrons at Trader Vic’s had a similar expression. Apparently it wasn’t every day that an Archangel stumbled into a werewolf bar and announced he was Fallen. We were there because I had agreed to take Droid out to the werewolf bar to get shit-faced after we destroyed Lucifer and his cronies. A large part was due to Droid’s technomage skills. This was his first time in Trader Vic’s.
Alaric Kerr, the Denver Wolfpack’s Alpha, owned Trader Vic’s. Upscale for a werewolf bar, it had a long oaken bar with both an eating and a bar area. Wooden and glass dividers separated the two. In the bar side was also a pool table, dart board, and even some 80s game machines, which included Tetris and Pacman.
“What do we do with him?” Luna asked.
Michael took another swig of whiskey and shook his head, as though trying to clear his thoughts. Good luck with that and whiskey. I frowned. I doubted the angel would be able to pay the tab he was racking up, so I was probably on the hook for it. Expensive single malt Irish whisky.
I sighed. “We’ve probably got a visitor at the Tiny House awhile until this mess gets straightened out.” I turned to the Archangel. “So, Mike, what happened?”
If Michael could look more miserable than he already was, he made a good attempt. “I failed to capture Lucifer, and I freed your Fylgja.”
I blinked. “Whoa, wait a minute. You got punished for a good deed?” Tuzren flew over to the Archangel and stood on the table. Tuzren is an Onoys daemon from another plane of existence. They’re not the same as Christian demons like Lucifer, although their moral compass is askew. Tuzren is about a foot and a half tall and looks suspiciously like a gargoyle, even though he claims he’s not. But in his case, size doesn’t matter. He’s a pretty powerful entity and his magic can be spectacular. He’s saved my butt more than once. “That is totally fucked up,” the little Daemon said.
“That’s Yahweh for you.” Vetr nodded in commiseration. “He’s totally mercurial. He’s even worse than Odin.”
Michael winced at the name of his god. “Don’t use his name so casually.”
“Why not?” The Frost Giant took another swig of mead. I gazed at the runic tats on the left side of Vetr’s face. The runes glowed faintly, almost midnight blue against his pale blue skin and contrasted against his white hair. Odd. I’ve never seen them glow before. Were they keyed to Vetr’s blood alcohol level so he wouldn’t get drunk? Did Jotun get drunk? I didn’t recall ever seeing Vetr get shit-faced, but I couldn’t imagine a Jotun not getting ploughed. Maybe it was the runes or maybe he had built up a tolerance over the years. However many that was.
“It’s in their rulebook.” Tuzren turned to Vetr. “Their god is pretty specific about not using his name casually. Or ‘in vain,’ whatever the Helheim that is.”
“Could we use the name ‘Jehovah’?” Vetr glanced at Michael, who looked ill. Maybe it was the whiskey, but I doubted it.
“I don’t think so—that’s the other interpretation of YHWH.” Tuzren scratched a horn. “Come to think about it, just using the word, “god,” is blasphemous to the Judeo-Christian faiths.”
“Seriously? I’ve been swearing all this time?” Vetr looked aghast.
I nodded. “Yeah, Yahweh pretty much considers any common use not said in prayer to be a sin. And a big one, from what I guess.”
“Can you stop using his name?” Michael turned to me, glassy eyed.
“Hey, we could call him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” Tuzren grinned wickedly.
“You mean like Lord Voldemort?” Luna mused. “That would suggest he’s a Dark Lord.”
Michael pulled out a pack of cigarettes, stuck a cancer stick in his mouth, and lit it.
“Hey, no smoking.” Tom Ulfhednar, Trader Vic’s werewolf manager called out from behind the bar.
“He’ll clean up after himself,” I said.
“Doesn’t matter.” The big werewolf shook his head. Even for a werewolf, Tom was huge. He stood at least seven feet tall and half that wide. But that was all muscle and no fat. He ran Trader Vic’s for Alaric, and didn’t require security given that he could enforce anything, short of a serious mage attack. You didn’t want to be on Tom’s bad side.
I shrugged as the Archangel extinguished the cig, popped it back in the package, and stowed the pack in his BDUs. He had taken off his helmet, which now hung from the chin strap behind his chair. His modern-day armor and clothing were still a mess, and his wings—how to say this? They looked like they were broken and handfuls of feathers were ripped out.
“Who did this to you? Yahweh?” Luna asked.
Michael shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “When Heaven decided I failed in my task by freeing Callan, the other Archangels attacked me and forced me to leave.”
I glanced at Elryn, my unofficial Light Elven partner, who had remained unusually silent. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, and her gray gaze held an unusual expression for her: pity. Like most Light Elven warriors, she wore armor, never mind that we were unlikely to have to fight our way out of a werewolf bar. I mean, what idiot would take on a pack of weres?
Okay, there was that one time when the Boulder pack used magic on them, but that happened in the early afternoon when most of the pack wasn’t there. I had just asked Luna on a first date, so I was new to the Denver Wolfpack. Long story that.
“That’s bullshit.” Elryn summed up the Archangel’s predicament. “The other six just turned on you?”
“Did Yahweh tell you that you had Fallen?” Tuzren asked.
“Not exactly. He said I failed.” Michael shrugged.
“Well, a failure isn’t exactly falling…is it?” I glanced at the Daemon for confirmation.
Tuzren shook his head. “The definition is slippery. One could say that Adam and Eve’s fuck up was a fall. Still, Yahweh isn’t shy about punishing his followers. Did he say you fell?”
“Not exactly. The other Archangels decided I did.”
“And what? They voted you off the island?” Tuzren looked at me. “This sounds fishy.”
I nodded. “It does to me, too.”
“What would make you believe me?” Michael asked.
“Swear on your power that the other Archangels threw you out of Heaven because you helped Ironspell.” Tuzren crossed
Michael glanced at all the expectant faces and nodded. “I swear on my power that everything happened as I have said. Heaven considers me an enemy now.”
I exhaled in surprise. “You can’t be an enemy or one of the Fallen. You’re Michael, the prince of Heaven. How could they throw you out?”
“It’s not uncommon. I was the one who threw Lucifer and his minions out of Heaven.” Michael paused. “But it was Heaven that sent them to Hell.”
“Well, you didn’t go to Hell.” Luna took a sip of her pina colada. And yes, her hair was perfect.
“I don’t know—after the zombies and Cult of the Messiah goons, it’s starting to look a bit hellish down here,” Droid grumbled.
Elryn rolled her eyes. I could sympathize. Droid was being melodramatic. Elryn and I had been to the Christian Hell when the Archdemons kidnapped my mom. Of course, Hell wasn’t as hot as you’d expect, mainly because the engineers who were sent there had designed and installed air conditioning. Shows what an eternity and scientific education will get you. They even have Internet.
“How many hits did you get in?” Vetr interrupted my musings.
Michael looked askance. “Why would I hit my fellow Archangels?”
“Uh, because they’re dicks,” Elryn said.
“They were right; I was wrong.” Michael shook his head.
The Elf stared. “Seriously, you didn’t even defend yourself?”
I blinked. “I know your religion is about turning the other cheek, but really? They hurt you. You, Yahweh’s general. And you didn’t stand up for yourself?”
“Wuss.” I heard Droid mutter behind me.
“I was wrong. I went against Heaven’s decree.” Michael looked down at his glass. Somehow, Tom had replaced it with a steaming hot cup of java. The Archangel took a sip and closed his eyes.
“You went against a dickhead order,” Elryn said. “Not even the best warriors follow their commanders blindly.”
“You do when it is Heaven’s will.” Michael took another sip of coffee. No doubt it was hot.
“Even when it is wrong?” I raised an eyebrow.
“If it is Heaven’s will, then it is not wrong.” He shrugged. “But you are right. I haven’t lost my white feathers and I don’t think I’ve lost my angelfire. But they did throw me out.”
“Do you still have angelfire?” I asked. I knew that if he had, he was most likely still within Yahweh’s graces, even if he screwed up by being compassionate.
Michael raised his hand and…nothing. He lowered his head, despondent. “I can feel it, but…”
To my surprise, Callan stood up from his bone and walked over to the Archangel. He pressed his nose into the angel’s hands. Michael looked down at the pup and began petting him. He has angelfire within him—I can sense it. But something is blocking it.
“Callan says he can sense the angelfire within you.” I smiled at the pup. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”
Callan wagged his tail, wiggling his butt. We all laughed. Even Michael’s lips quirked up in a reluctant smile. “But I have nowhere to go—and I have no idea how to fix this. I can’t take Callan back. I freed him in good faith and kept the bargain. It’s not my fault you captured Lucifer before we did.”
“I captured Lucifer.” Droid looked smug, despite being completely plowed.
“Where is he?” Michael’s gaze sharpened.
“If Yahweh wants him, he’s going to have to bargain with me and Spaz.” Droid took a gulp of his beer. Tom must not have thought Droid needed Hair of the Dog coffee yet. Apparently, the big were was slipping.
“You’re going to bargain with Heaven?” The Archangel raised an eyebrow.
“Why not? Most of the time when people bargain, they’re the weaker party. It would be refreshing if someone actually bargained from a position of power.” Elryn nodded.
“Oh don’t encourage him,” Vetr grumbled. “Droid’s already asked you out for dates.”
I snorted, holding back a chuckle.
Elryn gave me the stink-eye. “I can handle him.”
“I think that’s what he wants you to do.” Tuzren snickered.
I honestly don’t know if Light Elves can blush, but Elryn did a passible imitation, even in the bar’s low light. She lashed out with a wicked backhand, which Tuzren narrowly avoided. She would’ve clipped Vetr, except the Jotun casually raised an arm to block the strike.
Elryn huffed. “That still doesn’t answer the question of what we’re doing with the pigeon.”
Michael glared at the Elf. “I’m not a pigeon, but she does make a point. Do you know where I could go?”
“Do you have money?” Droid asked.
Michael shook his head.
“How about a church?” Tuzren suggested. “They’re kind of keen on angels.”
“I thought of that, but what if I am truly Fallen? I won’t be able to cross the threshold.” Michael shook his head.
“That doesn’t stop evil from entering churches,” I said. “No matter how holy people think churches are, plenty of vile deeds have happened in them over the centuries. I don’t think entering a church would be a problem, except you might give a Normal priest a heart attack.”
“Not a good idea.” Vetr agreed.
I glanced at Luna, who nodded. “What’s one more misfit, eh? You can stay with us.”
Michael shook his head. “I don’t want to impose.”
“Too late for that,” Droid quipped. I twitched my hand, sending a pulse of magic, causing his half-full beer glass to spill into his lap. “Oh shit! Man, that’s cold!” He leapt up, and the glass tumbled to the floor. It shattered on the wooden planks and Droid swore again. “Asshole! Did you do that?”
“What?” I smiled innocently.
“Jerk off.” Droid stomped over to the restrooms, only to find his sense of balance lacking from being shit-faced. He careened into a table with three weres and nearly knocked their table over, drinks and all. They naturally bristled and one of the men—a big were with salt and pepper hair—face lengthened in the beginnings of transformation.
Droid backed off, lost his balance, and fell hard on his ass. This caused the werewolves to burst into laughter and Droid somehow avoided becoming a snack as the salt and pepper were returned to his Human form while laughing at my friend.
Somehow Droid made it to the restrooms despite being wasted. He stumbled into the door and managed to pour himself inside.
I turned to Michael and considered him. He looked rough, especially because the illusions that covered his injuries were no longer there. His unearthly handsome face held brutal scars from the battles he fought, including a couple of new ones from his fall. His wings took a serious pounding. I wondered if he had the fast healing so many immortals did, or whether we’d have to set it. I considered asking Eir to heal him; she is a Valkyrie and the goddess of healing. She also has a kind and patient nature, despite being a battle goddess. Gods know, she healed me and my crew enough.
I opened my mouth to suggest just that when Kira, the Denver Wolfpack’s Alpha female, slammed through the doors, her face elongating as she fought the change. “Get Alaric!” she rasped, her voice gravelly from her partial turn. “The Drow are attacking Denver.”
Chapter Two
“Wait, what?” I turned to my friends, who looked as nonplussed as I was.
The weres were on their feet, many of them changing into wolves. Those with enough presence of mind, pulled their clothes off before they changed, but many simply became werewolves and their clothing ripped loudly throughout the bar.
“Oh shit.” Elryn stood up and pulled Vetr to his feet. “We’ve got to get out of here before we become wolf snacks.”
I turned to Luna, who surprisingly had more control of her changing than the wolves around her. Fenrir had been teaching her how to control it, and apparently she had worked at it, because she stayed in Human form. Luna shook her head. “Sit down, Elryn. You run and you’ll just incite their predator drive.”
“Good point.” I nodded as Elryn and Vetr sat down. “But Drow? Seriously? I thought we took care of them when we shut the door to Svartalfheim.”
“Unless they came from your home.” Vetr raised an eyebrow as the first weres left the bar in full blood frenzy. There was no way they were going to let Drow destroy Denver.
