BRUTAL TIME – Chapter One

Dear Readers,

I’m super excited to share an exclusive sample chapter from THE BRUTAL TIME (Angelbound Origins Book 6), which releases on October 29, 2019. 

To Order: Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / Apple Books / GooglePlay

Christina

The Brutal Time

Time to kick some old lady butt.

And no, I’m not kidding.

Right now, I pace inside a hallway of the Sunset Retirement Community for Quasi-Demonic Women. Like most of Purgatory, this place is all chipped walls and threadbare carpet. A sign at the end of the corridor reads:

Quilting Contest with the Great Scala

Activities Room, 10:30 AM

It’s true that I’m the Great Scala—meaning the only person who can move souls to Heaven or Hell—but saying this event is hosted by the Sunset Retirement Community?

Not the name I’d call them. 

In truth, this building is home to none other than the nastiest coven of quasi-demonic witches in the after-realms: the infamous Bloody Knights of the Round Table. These ladies wield the power to see the future, which they’ve decided involves yours truly ending the world in a great demonpocalypse.

Which is why I’m here today. I’ve signed up to judge this supposed contest. Along the way, I’ll suss out the coven’s plans and related visions. It’s what these ladies see in the future that concerns me. After all, these women are evil, not inaccurate.

A lady tips her head out into the hall. “Are you the Great Scala?”

I want to reply, how many women do you know who have red hair, a dragonscale tail and wear white Scala robes? But I need to keep a low profile. For the purposes of this fake contest, I am a bubbleheaded demi-demigoddess.

“Why, yes. I’m the Great Scala.”

For the record, I’m also the Queen of the Thrax, wife to Lincoln, mother to Maxon, daughter of Purgatory’s President, and recent winner of the annual Quasi Enquirer award for sexiest demon alive.

But I digress.

“In that case, we’re ready for you.” This woman is on the shorter side with shiny brown eyes and a wrinkly smile. Her white hair wraps about her head, cotton-candy style.

“Perfect.” I flash her a grin that hopefully says, don’t worry about me. I’m totally not here to snoop into your evil schemes. 

Entering the activity room proper, I find a square chamber with cinderblock walls and—surprise, surprise—more frayed carpet. A dozen ladies sit about a round table that’s covered with fabric, scissors, and spools of thread. Each woman holds a little quilt before her.

So far, so good. Then I notice a surprising lack of snacks. As in, there aren’t any at all. Good thing I sent my latest assistant, Alli-something, off for cookies already. With any luck, she’ll arrive with chocolaty stuff and soon.

“Thank you for coming here today, Great Scala.” The speaker is Rose, the same woman who greeted me before. Up close, I can see how she—and everyone else here—sports a great invention called the name tag. It’s a life saver considering how 1) I’m terrible with names and 2) these women all kinda-sorta look alike. In related news, I’m also craving cotton candy.

I slap on another smile. “Happy to be invited.”

“Each of us created her own quilt square,” explains Rose. “Today you’ll review them all and declare a winner.”

I shoot her a thumbs up. “Ready.”

Rose turns to the woman beside her. “How about starting us off, Lucy?”

The woman to my right holds up a mini-quilt formed from bits of red cloth. “Here’s my entry,” announces Lucy. “My muse was Colossus.”

Not a shocker. Colossus is the one-time King of the Archdemons who’s been locked up for ages. According to my sources, these ladies want my help in getting Colossus free in order to launch a new demonpocalypse, which is a particularly ugly way to end the world.

Not on my watch.

“Colossus.” I scan the quilt, careful to force my face into a blank of confusion. “You mean the King of the Archdemons?”

“That’s the one.” Lucy pats my hand like I’m a toddler who just shoved peas up my nose. “You know how your father is one of nine archangels?”

“Yeeeeeeeeah.”

Lucy holds up craggy fingers as she counts off the archangels in question. “There are seven archangels to battle each deadly sin, then an eighth to fight a combination of lust and wrath … that’s your father. Finally, the ninth archangel is their king, Lucifer. Or it was Lucifer. The King of the Angels is now imprisoned. Ring any bells?”

I want to explain that, Hells yeah, that rings a whole chorus of bells. Best to keep playing dumb, though. Looks like these women might spill their secrets via quilting. Sweet.

“No bells,” I reply.

“There are also nine archdemons,” continues Lucy. “Only they got unruly, even for demons. Ages ago, a human king named Arthur locked them all into a magical dungeon. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“King Arthur? Not sounding familiar.” Which is a total lie. Everyone knows the Arthurian legends. Sword in the stone. Merlin in the house. Lancelot in Guinevere. “So why is your quilt all red?”

“Colossus has no physical form,” answers Lucy. “He must possess others, usually his archdemons, in order to kill or cast spells. Yet Colossus can take over humans as well. When that happens, the archdemon king explodes mortals from the inside-out in a shower of blood.” She twiddles her fingers to show said blood-rain in action. “That’s why my quilt has little red triangles.”

Okay. Eew.

“Ah, I get it.” And by this I mean, I get how these women would surely enjoy the bloodbath of a demonpocalypse. “Who’s next?”

A woman named Edith raises a mini-quilt that displays a hooded figure. “My entry shows the Crimson Scourge. Soon this mage will free Colossus.”

“Wow.” I stare at the square carefully. “You totally stitched the image of, uh, some mage in a red cloak riding a white horse. Go you.”

Note to self: track down this mage. Word is, this wrath coven has an outside accomplice. Looks like it’s this mysterious Crimson Scourge.

Another woman—her name tag reads Florence—slides her mini-quilt over. “This is my creation. Can you guess what it is?”

“A mountain?” I ask.

“Not just any mountain,” corrects Florence. “Lucifer’s laboratory is hidden in here.” She taps some runes at the bottom. “I added the exact coordinates on Earth. Inside this lab lies a signet ring that the Crimson Scourge will use to free Colossus. Called the Band of Epochs, this ring empowers the wearer to travel through time.”

“Interesting.” I scan the table. The remaining entries are more of what I’d call, Gruesome Colossus Kill Porn. “Did anyone not get inspired by Colossus?”

“Oh, me!” cries Rose. “Mine’s a fading angel.”

I do a double-take. “Did you say a fading angel?”

“Yes, dear.” Rose slips me her mini-quilt. Sure enough, it shows a frowning dude with droopy wings and a ghostly body.

That’s a fading angel, all right.

And they’re my biggest worry these days. Why? Fading angels are spirits who enter Heaven even though they aren’t totally pure of heart. Sure, they don’t deserve Hell. But sending these souls past the Pearly Gates isn’t a great idea, either. Once in Heaven, fading angels go all mopey until they disappear. And by disappear, I mean die. Permanently.

“What do you think?” asks Rose. “That’s what a fading angel looks like, right?”

“Oh yeah,” I say. “Nailed it.”

“Poor things.” Rose’s button eyes fill with sorrow.

And with that, the snooping around portion of the morning is over. I’ve seen all the quilts. It’s time for some honesty.

“Let’s talk,” I state. “This isn’t a real contest.”

Rose blinks innocently. “It isn’t?”

Let the record show that I use the same blinking-routine … and I’m much better at it.

“It absolutely is not,” I repeat. “You ladies are the Bloody Knights of the Round Table coven. Lately you’ve been peering into the future, hoping to launch a demonpocalypse for your very own gruesome entertainment. I knew your plans involved me, but after what I saw today? You’ve also roped in Colossus, Lucifer’s lab, and the fading angels. Now am I right or am I right?”

Everyone starts fiddling with their sewing stuff and avoiding eye contact.

“So that’s a yes,” I say. “Spill.”

Quasi-demons all carry an animal-tail-slash-power from one of the seven deadly sins. Mine’s a badass dragonscale number with an arrowhead-shaped end. After my last statement, all the ladies’ tails curl over their respective shoulders to reveal their animal origin. Rattlesnake. A creepy noise fills the air as a dozen rattlesnake tails do their thing.

The ladies’ irises blaze with demonic red energy. No question what that means; they’re accessing their wrath power. The air takes on an electric charge. Magic. Quilts and sewing things fly off the table to whirl around the chamber. All the women begin speaking in a unified monotone. Not gonna lie; it’s more than a little creepy.

“You must go to Lucifer’s lab,” they say. “There you will find a ring called the Band of Epochs. Use it to visit the time of King Arthur, who will help you build your own knights of the round table. If you do as we command, and you shall save the fading angels. It is the only way.”

I frown. Is this combination of magical display and otherworldy to do list supposed to entice me to join them? Nuh-uh.

“Wow,” I state. “What total bullshit.”

At these words, the magical show of spinning sewing supplies comes to a screeching halt. All the scraps of fabric, quilts, and other stuff tumbles onto the table with a series of clunks. The ladies’ eyes return to normal as they stare at me in disbelief.

Rose is first to speak, and I’m happy to report the icky monotone-thing is toast. “I don’t understand,” she says.

“Here’s my take.” I gesture across the tabletop. “You’ve got blood-n-guts all over your quilts. Clearly, your coven wants to bring about a real-life slaughter fiesta.”

“Only a little,” mumbles Rose.

“King Arthur locked up all the archdemons. If I grab that time-travel ring from Lucifer’s lab, then there’s a chance the Crimson Scourge will snag it, journey to the past, and free Colossus. By using me—and the Crimson Scourge—to change history, you’ll get a carnage party today. Am I right or am I right?”

At this question, all the ladies start fiddling with the gunk on the table once more.

I roll my eyes. “And that’s another yes.”

Rose shakes her head. “Ignore our visions at your peril. We brought you here under false pretenses, it is true. But we wish share our wisdom. You must gain your own knights of the round table.”

I rub my hands over my face. “Let’s step back here. Why do you think I need my own knights?”

“You only work solo,” explains Rose. “That’s why you’re a failure when it comes to helping these unpure souls. Fading angels are too big of a problem for any one person to solve.”

“Hey, I get help.”

“Every time you have trouble as the Great Scala, you rely on your friends and family. Yet they have other things—as in whole realms—to worry about. Such assistance is simply not the same as your own knights.”

Ouch. I’ve taken gut punches that hurt less than what Rose just said. Sure, I have leadership issues with folks I’m not related-slash-married-to, and I’m working on it. I’m just not making any progress, that’s all.

I sigh. “You have a point.”

“So you’ll aid us in our scheme?” asks Rose.

“Ah, no. It’s like this. Lucifer has a long history of creating junk that causes me trouble. If you’ve got his lab’s coordinates, someone else might have them too. So I’ll blow up the laboratory ASAP—meaning before any evildoers grab gunk out of it.” To emphasize my point, I scoop up the quilt map. “Then I’ll scheme out my own knights of the round table situation. And I won’t risk ending the world.”

Another true fact: it’ll be hella fun to detonate Lucifer’s lab and shred all his magical crap. Not that I’m sharing that part out loud.

Rose rises. “If you take that map and leave now, we shall not stop you. But know that you are dooming the fading angels to death. One way or another, magic will not allow that to happen.”

“So your magic will force me to help you?” I make little quotation marks with my fingers when I say the words, force me. “Good luck with that.”

The door swings open. Yay, a distraction! My assistant Alli-something walks in the room while holding a large tray. She’s got big eyes, a small frame, and a snail’s tail. Why I thought it was a good idea to have an assistant with sloth as her mortal sin, I don’t know.

I take it back; I absolutely know. I go through assistants like a hot knife through brownies. Finding replacements isn’t easy. Honestly? I’m lucky to have sloth girl. It’s more than a little depressing.

Years ago, I was an invincible Arena warrior. Best of the best. I never met a demon—or an evil soul—that I couldn’t take down. Now, I’m the Great Scala. It’s a much bigger job, yet I’m bottom-feeding when it comes to assistants. How did it come to this?

My shoulders slump as I realize the truth. For the first time in my life, I’ve run smack-dab into something I really want to do—meaning create what Rose called my own knights—and yet I seriously suck at it.

“Cookies for everyone,” announces my assistant. Happily, she wears a name tag now. Allimari. I knew there was an Alli in there somewhere.

Once Allimari sets the tray down, I wave her over to my side.

“What is it, Great Scala?” she asks.

“Please get this mini-quilt to King Lincoln STAT.” I lift the object as evidence. “Tell him to meet me at Lucifer’s lab as soon as possible.”

“What?” Allimari pales. “The ghouls always gave us checklists. Don’t you have one for this task?”

Sheesh. Allimari is being a total wiener. Ghouls used to rule Purgatory and they had rules and checklists for everything. Not my bag.

“You don’t need any checklist.” I jam the quilt square onto Allimari’s hands. “This is easy peasy.”

In my experience, the most important part of assistant management is this: walking away before they can corner you and ask a million questions. All of which is why I speed-march toward the door.

With every step, a heavy sense of dread seeps into my bones. A magnetic pull rises from my soul; its force draws me back to Allimari. A calm female voice whispers in my mind.

Return to Allimari. Talk to her. Leaving now is wrong. 

My igni chatter like frantic children. This new speaker is older, calmer, and like nothing I’ve ever heard before. Is some fresh entity rolling around my soul? What the ever loving Hell?

In the end, I do what any sane person would in this situation. Ignore the fuck out of the weird voice in my head, wave everyone goodbye, and head for Lucifer’s lab.

Blowing things up. That’s a much better way to spend my morning. And I already have an idea how to derail this wrath coven’s demonpocalypse train.

Maybe.

Possibly.

Okay, I really have no idea.

But I’ll still go blow shit up.

–End of Sample–

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