Fell the Angels - Joslinne Morgan (books suggested by bill gates .txt) 📗

touch burned through to her very bone.
“But you are here,” his voice was sweet as honey, as he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You are here, and you do you know why?”
“Because I failed,” she replied flatly. She knew why she was here.
He laughed, like the triumphant cawing of a crow.
“Yes, little Amy, you failed. You failed to protect the soul to whom you had been assigned. Heather Sardis, wasn’t she? Such a troublemaker from the beginning, I could feel it in her blood the day she was born. And then with the dyslexia, coupled with such deep depression… well, she never stood much of a chance, did she? Such a harsh and cruel world it is.” These last words were nearly a purr as he stroked the sides of her face. Amy shivered but didn’t dare recoil.
“I have good news for you, Amy. A choice to make, and it is entirely yours, I have no influence whatsoever. It would seem the Almighty must have a say in these matters. And I, being the lowly creature that I am, must bend to his will. As must we all,” the bitter resentment was creeping back into his voice. He slipped his hand underneath her chin and tilted her head up so that she was looking into his face. But not his eyes, she didn’t quite dare meet his eyes.
His lips hovered inches away from hers, and his hair tumbled over his shoulders, creating a curtain around her face. She realized that it was jet-black, and curly and soft.
“Do you think I am a lowly creature?” he whispered against her mouth. “Or am I a beautiful prince to your eyes?”
Unable to concentrate on the question, much less answer it, Amy parted her lips but said nothing.
The prince smirked, and continued, “The Almighty and I have an agreement. If you can go back to earth, under close guard of course from both of our sides, and aid the soul of Linda Sardis, poor Heather’s mother, then you will be returned to your rightful place. Assuming, of course, that when Linda Sardis dies, her soul finds a direct route to Heaven. How do you feel about that plan, frail Amy?”
Amy didn’t know what to say. She was beside herself with joy to the point where she wanted to weep. The Almighty had given her a second chance, she was to be redeemed!”
“Will I have any help?” she asked, her voice wavering with emotion.
The prince’s mouth twisted more downward in a flash of contempt, and then he smiled again. “Yes, of course you will. Heather Sardis will accompany you on the journey to save her mother’s soul.”
Amy felt as though her heart had jumped directly into her throat. She nodded.
“Thank you,” she gasped, speaking in her heart of hearts straight to the Almighty, who she knew was not present in this dismal place. “Thank you, thank you!”
“There is just one little catch, pretty Amy.” The prince reminded her that her redemption was not going to come easily.
“And what is that?” she asked, willing to do anything.
“If you fail, and Linda Sardis is not redeemed, then your punishment will be quite … vicious, shall we say? You do not want to disappoint me, little Amy.”
Amy nodded, too elated for words. Don’t even think about the consequences, there is a chance you can be free!
The prince bent down and kissed her on the lips. His kiss burned her, it was like tasting poison, and she pulled away from it as quickly as she could.
The prince laughed again, and in moments, began to fade from her view, until only his voice remained.
“I wish you the very best of luck, pretty Amy.”


Chapter Four: Broken Wings

Long after midnight, when sleep had proved elusive, Linda stumbled downstairs as quietly as she could and headed for the kitchen. She headed straight into the arms of the only comfort she knew she could find – food.
“Please,” she begged silently, opening the refrigerator door and peering inside. “Let there be alcohol…” of course there was none. Sighing, Linda dug further, and discovered half of the strawberry pie they had eaten for dessert. Shutting the fridge door and grabbing a knife from the drawer, she sat down at the kitchen table to enjoy herself.
The first bite was remarkably unsatisfactory. She wasn’t hungry, she only ate because it gave her something to concentrate on besides thinking. Besides thinking of Heather, besides thinking of her mother. The second bite was as unfulfilling as the first, and she nearly collapsed into tears mid-chew. The misery and pain that had built up over the years was rising to the surface. It was as if her very emotions were intent on ripping her apart. This was the very reason she had taken up drinking. It was the most effective way she had of numbing the pain.
Another bite, more whipped cream than pie. Disgusted, Linda dropped her fork into the empty side of the tin and shoved it away. She couldn’t force another bite down her throat. She was going to vomit.
She put her arms up on the table and allowed her head to drop. She didn’t even notice the kitchen lights turning on.
“What are you doing awake?” Marianne rapped impatiently, as if Linda were still five years old and had stayed up past her bedtime. She used to do that so she could sneak downstairs and hug her father when he got home late at night. Marianne were give her the same look each time.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Linda muttered, as good an explanation as any.
“Are you not hungry?”
“No, ma’am,” Linda sighed, not looking up.
“Gluttony is a sin, child. You would do best to remember that. Though you have committed so many that I wouldn’t be too worried about that one. Still, it would do your figure a wonder if you gave it a thought now and then.” Disdainfully, Marianne swept the pie tin off the table and placed it back into the refrigerator. Linda still did not glance up.
“Pick up your head and look at me when I speak to you!” Marianne snapped. She tangled her bony fingers into her daughter’s hair and yanked her head back harshly. “I want to see your eyes!”
“MOTHER!” Linda cried, grasping the base of her hair with both her hands, desperately trying to keep her mother from ripping out her hair by the roots. “Stop! God!” she screamed.
Marianne released her hair and smacked her across the face with the same hand. “Don’t you dare take the Lord’s name in vain!” she hissed. “Not under my roof, or you will find yourself under it no longer! I am sick of you and your selfish, worldly ways. Your poor mother has striven for all of her life to care for you, to make certain that you were provided for. That you were taught the best manners, the most holy scripture – I taught you letters and arithmetic, and your father, poor fool, worked day and night to make certain that we could eat. And what did you do to him? He put a rifle to his head one evening and that was the end of it. I can’t imagine what you must have done, devil’s child, to your poor father to make him do such a thing. And then, of all things, you tried to kill your poor, caring mother too – by giving birth to a daughter out of wedlock! Thank the Almighty that you did not succeed, or you would be in a hard position today.”
“No!” Linda exclaimed through clenched teeth, tears running down her cheeks. “I didn’t kill father!”
“You might as well have, you evil, ungrateful wretch.”
Linda cried, silently, so as not to give her mother the satisfaction of her tears. Marianne wrung the belt of her robe with her hands and observed her daughter’s silent breakdown.
“You are charity,” she continued, piously. “Just remember that.”
“I am dead,” Linda said hoarsely. “A walking corpse. I have nothing to live for any longer. I might as well be dead.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Marianne scoffed. “What a selfish wish, to be dead! And leave your poor old mother here to waste away alone.”
“You don’t want me here!” Linda protested.
“And it’s just as well, for I see you hold no love for me.” Marianne pulled her long silver braid over her shoulder and stroked it absently. “When you find a decent job and a decent husband you can go live wherever you want and be as dead as you like. I care not. And I suppose your selfish little heart will be happy to meet your daughter once more in hell. For hell is home to all of those who have committed such a crime as to take their own life, which is a privilege only God may have.”
“Don’t!” Linda screamed in warning, clenching her fists angrily. “Never, never imply that Heather is in hell again, do you hear me? Never! My baby is not in hell!”
“She most certainly is,” Marianne said primly. “And I hope she scorches well for the misery she has put upon this family.”
You are the misery of this family! Linda wanted to scream, but she didn’t dare. Marianne had won. She knew it, too. Linda hated her for it.
“I know now why father blew out his brains,” Linda hissed. “It’s because he thought hell sounded glorious compared to a single day with you.”
“Your father was a sinner,” Marianne said tightly. “It was no surprise.”
Linda didn’t feel thirty-two anymore… she felt sixteen all over again. She couldn’t believe this was happening.
“I didn’t want to be born!” she insisted. “And you didn’t want me to be born, either. You should have killed me when I was still developing, mother, and saved yourself a hell of a lot of trouble.” With that, Linda stood and stormed from the room, slamming the kitchen door shut so loudly that it shook the door frame.
Marianne remained as still as a statue for minutes after Linda had gone. Her hand moved first, touching the chair in front of her and pulling it out from under the table. The rest of her eventually followed. She moved gracefully, as if completely detached from the rest of the world, to the refrigerator and pulled the pie tin, still with Linda’s fork, from the its shelf. Setting it down on the table, Marianne fell heavily into the chair, and stabbed at the pie with the fork.
“Oh, Arthur,” she sighed, her words like a death rattle from between her lips. She lifted the fork. Red filled dripped from either side of the broken crust, the prongs of the fork having speared the cherry straight through the middle. Blood from a skewered heart. “From where we started…” she shoved the fork into her mouth and closed her withering lips around it. A single tear ran from the corner of her eye as she did so, barely forcing herself to swallow. The rest of her words remained unspoken in the back of her mind.
How did we ever reach this point?
Outside of the kitchen, Linda leaned against the door, her cheek pressed against the cool painted wood and hot tears running down the side of her face.
Mother and daughter cried together.


To his credit, Baalberith was extremely patient. Or perhaps Amy was extremely impatient. Either way, she didn’t know how long she had been left standing at the entrance to hell, waiting