Ashlynn Monroe - Fallen Angels

Fallen Angels

by

Ashlynn Monroe

Evernight Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright 2010 Ashlynn Monroe

ISBN: 978-0-9867225-0-9

Cover Artist: Dara England

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 sawher 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 sisters 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 Graces question. It was just too horrible. Tears clouded her vision but she found her voice.

Were under attack. We have to hide. Sisters are dead.

That cant 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?

Puritys voice was bitter as she answered, We might be brides of Christ, but we live in this house due to The Familys 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 Saint John . 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. Im 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 womans 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 mans 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 sisters skewed habit, feeling the automatic weapon dangling heavily in her other hand.