I startle Erelah in the training room.
“Tajael!” she exclaims then wastes no time dashing across the expanse of the light-filled chamber. I’d almost forgotten how bright the crystal walls glowed. “You’ve returned!” Her eyes are wide, her mouth agape.
“Yes,” I say with a smile. “I see you’ve taken vows with Markos.” She wouldn’t still be in his Dominion had she not.
“Six months ago, Taj.” She’s raking her gaze over me, in a way I’m sure she doesn’t realize has meaning in the human world… but I’m among angelkind. I have to recalibrate my understanding of the unspoken language of gestures and expressions and exclamations. Like the gasp of shock mixed with horror when her gaze affixes on the inky black tattoo I gained in Elyon’s Regiment. She drags her gaze up slowly to meet mine. “What happened?”
“Many things.” I’ve debated endlessly whether I should confess all my Sins in the shadow realm—or even the fact that I’ve been there—but Erelah’s righteous heart and wide blue eyes convince me in an instant. My marked body means I cannot hide my time in shadow, but there is no need to tarnish her innocence with my Sins. “I’ve been to the shadow realm, E. It’s left its mark upon me, but I have returned.” All Truth.
She nods slowly, in awe I do not deserve. “Have you been to see Markos?”
“No.” I give her a smirk. “I came here first to judge his mood. It is Charitable, I’ll wager.”
She gave him an odd look. “He is an angel.”
Because angels are always the epitome of Virtue. Except when they are not.
“Of course,” I say, keeping my thoughts to myself. I glance around the training room, but it is empty. “Where are the others? Sajit has to be beating us all in combat by now.”
Erelah’s expression twists in torment. “Sajit has Fallen.”
“What?” I’m shocked. “I… but, I thought she…” Somehow, I had just assumed the others had all returned, Sajit most of all because she was so eager. My heart clenches—I was so mired in my own drama, I’d forgotten the rest of my cohort. “Where is she?”
“No one knows,” Erelah says solemnly. “She never returned.”
I know what this means. I know precisely what this means, and it’s like all the life has been sucked from me. I pray that Sajit has died. Which is a horror that only multiplies the loss. No… she was headstrong. Full of passion. Maybe she found a way to live in the shadow realm without being destroyed by it.
I honestly don’t know which is worse.
Erelah nods. “We were all stricken by the loss.”
I shake my head. All this happened months ago. “What about Halo and Oriel?” I brace myself to weep for more.
But Erelah brightens. “Halo is in Patience now.”
“Oh,” I exhale in relief. “That’s perfect for her.”
“I thought as much.” Her smile tempers but still shines. “Oriel is still in Chastity, but he went to Raeph’s Dominion.”
I nod, relieved more than anything. “And you are here,” I state.
“Yes.” Her nod is firm, full of the conviction I always knew she had. “Although I frequently take sojourns outside the Dominion. Markos has appointed me a liaison of sorts to the House of Smoke.”
I frown. “The dragon shifters?”
She beams. “They are protectors of humanity. I know dragons aren’t our natural allies, but the princes of the House of Smoke do good work, Taj. Their treaty with the fae keeps humanity safe.”
“I see.” It is a strange arrangement. To my knowledge, angels have never felt the need for liaisons to the other immortal creatures, least of all ones with fae blood running through their veins. But if there were ever an angeling righteous enough to handle the challenge of dealing with dragons, it would be Erelah.
“And what about you, Taj? Will you be taking vows?” Her glance at my tattoos shows she isn’t certain of me yet. Which I can understand.
“In Chastity, yes. Under Markos.” If there’s any place I need to be, it’s a faction that focuses on my weakest virtue. And under the angel who saved me from ruin.
“Taj,” she says softly, drawing nearer. “Why were you gone so long?”
“Sometimes it takes a while to know what you have.”
She frowns but didn’t press further.
“Will you accompany me?” I ask. “To make my petition to Markos?” Normally a petition to take vows is summarily granted—it’s assumed the angeling has chosen the place that suits them best. Occasionally, an angel may gently suggest another faction might suit better, but usually, the petition is just a formality.
There’s nothing usual about my situation.
“Of course.” Erelah shucks off her gloves then strides by my side from the training room.
It’s not far to the gathering room where Markos awaits. I’m sure he has already sensed my presence in his Dominion and waited for me here. Angels can be inscrutable and mysterious, but they’re predictably so. He would prefer I come to him, not the other way around.
We find him sitting at ease on his throne of humming crystal. His larger-than-human yet classically beautiful human form makes me flinch in a way I don’t expect—it’s a reminder that Markos isn’t human at all, and that the only thing separating him from Elyon is the thin tissue of righteous intent. Markos pulses with his typical angel power as we approach, but it’s the flicker of surprise that crosses his face that chills me.
His gaze sweeps past the tattoos on my body and up to drill into my eyes. “Tajael.” His acknowledgment is heavy with meaning. A greeting. A challenge. And the unmistakable—at least to my ears—hint of judgment.
In that one word, it becomes instantly clear. He will judge me.
I draw in a shaky breath. “Markos. I wish to take vows. To pledge my Virtue and my life to your service.” They are the ritual words. I gush them out.
Erelah gives me a sideways look. I doubt she knows this could go either way—Markos may accept me into his Dominion, or he may banish me back to the shadow Regiment whose marks I bear. Erelah is just an angeling returned from walkabout. She is young-in-service, like me… but unlike me, she is still naïve of the ways of shadowkind.
I am dead certain Markos is not naïve—at least not of the forces of evil.
He gives me a long, measured look. Too long. Then he rises from his throne and stands over us, towering and vibrating the air with his power. He is silent and inscrutable, and all my skills in reading human faces and angelings are useless here because he is neither. Especially now, he projects what he wishes me to see. An angel in his full and terrifying beauty, powerful beyond reckoning and ready to dispense my fate.
I stand tall before him, ready to accept whatever he metes out.
“You have been to the shadow realm.” It’s a statement that requires no answer.
I answer it anyway. “I was captured by a dark angel and given his mark. I made my escape.” All Truth… and yet Markos must wonder how I accomplished such a thing. If he asks, I will tell the full sordid tale. But only if he asks.
He doesn’t.
He just stares into my soul, and whatever he sees there… it must be enough. Or perhaps he has some hidden reason for not speaking what we both surely know—there is nothing usual about my return. He gives me a nod. “I will accept your vow.” His voice booms now, just below angelsong and reverberating throughout the empty gathering room. “After your Penance.”
“Penance?” Erelah squeaks out.
It’s unheard of. If you return from walkabout, you return. No questions asked. The return itself is proof enough of your worthiness. No one is given Penance, not at that time, not for that.
“By your command,” I say, the ritual response to dispensing of Penance.
“But Tajael hasn’t—”
“Erelah,” I cut her off. Then I soften my tone. “It’s fine.” She continues to sputter indignation on my behalf, but I just calmly turn to face Markos and wait.
“Worship choir,” he says. “A month.”
“What?” Erelah screeches.
I regret the pain this causes her. But I don’t regret the Penance. I welcome it. “By your command,” I repeat. “I live to serve.” Then I turn away.
“But… he…” Erelah is still flummoxed, but she quickly trails after me.
I’ll leave right away. I could twist right now, but I need to relieve my fervent friend of her concerns before I go. I can’t explain why a month in the most punishing of Penances isn’t a tragedy or injustice. It’s a release. Even more, I chose wisely in Markos as my faction leader. Without words, he peered into my soul, and he saw what I needed.
This will also reassure both of us that I’ll truly remain in the light.
As soon as Erelah and I are clear of the gathering room, and once I make sure the hallway outside is empty, I pull a still-sputtering Erelah off to the side. “It’s all right, E.”
“It is not.” She’s worked up to full indignation on my behalf. “He can’t hold you responsible for being captured—”
“That’s not it,” I say softly, trying to bring her down.
But she just ramps up more. “Of course, that’s it! Did you see how he looked at… at…” Her hand shook as she gestured to my tattoos. “They branded you, Taj. That’s not your fault. And now Worship? Holy angels of light! At least ask him for dispensation for recovery before you leave. Or a shorter time in choir. Something.”
But Worship is exactly what I need. It’s arduous but purifying. Perpetual angelsong, given in worship to God. Every waking hour, the power of angelsong—a full choir of it—beating against you, pulling you apart at the seams. Which is exactly what I need. To be pulled apart and put back together in the blazing glory of worship.
“It’s only a month,” I say, even as that sends a shiver through me. “Others have gone longer.”
“Others have gone mad,” she spits back, blue eyes on fire. “Or sing praise until they wither to nothing.”
“It’s a righteous way to die,” I whisper. And it is. But this won’t kill me. The best Penance reshapes you, breaks you down, reforms you into your better self. That’s what this will be.
“Taj.” Her voice has dropped to a whisper too. “I just got you back.”
And that strikes my heart because I don’t want my best friend in the world to suffer. Not for my Sins. Even though I know that’s the nature of Sin—others suffer, not just you.
“Oh, Erelah,” I say and give her a soft smile. “I’m not like you. I wasn’t born of the light. And I trust Markos. If he thinks I need this… I do.” I implore her with my eyes, hoping she’ll find comfort in that.
But her anger just gives way to a soft horror. “What happened to you out there?”
I smile, but I fear it’s more of a grimace. “I’ve seen things, my friend, that I pray you never do.” Then I step back and twist away, leaving her concerned brow and half-formed protests in the hall.
When I arrive at the angeling Worship Choir, it’s at such a level I think I might go deaf in the first minute. But angelings are hard to kill, and each time damage is inflicted, my angel nature summons and heals my human-shaped body. I step into line next to a female angeling with endlessly long blonde hair and a wide-open mouth blasting her angelsong. Her cheeks are hollow, and I’m afraid she’s one of the ones who’ll stay until the end. Who will give every last measure to worship. She doesn’t seem to notice my presence. She may be already lost.
My mind hazes as my body adjusts to the new, relentless pounding of angelsong. The choir sings for the greater glory of God, every last one of us, and this magical space reverberates with it.
As I prepare to sing, a mantra takes up in my mind, growing stronger until it occupies every thought. This mantra—these words—will carry me through the month. When I am through, I will return, burned clean and ready to serve in whatever capacity Markos sees fit to assign me. I won’t fail him. And I won’t shame myself.
No angeling can ever reach perfection.
But no angeling will have ever tried as hard.
I was born in Sin. But I need not choose Sin.
I choose the light.
I open my mouth and sing.
Tajael's story has only begun!
TAJAEL
(Fallen Angels 1)
I am an angeling of the light, Protector class, assigned to Guardian Duty… and I am Tempted.
Tajael is an angeling assigned to Guardian Duty, protecting a beautiful physicist who’s far too tempting. Charlotte is running from an abusive past, but her new theory just might change the world. He struggles not to Fall to Lust while protecting her from the Fae who want her experiments stopped at all costs—before she bridges the divide between the mortal and immortal realms. Yet the greatest danger for them both may not be war… but the sweet promise of Love.
TAJAEL ()
Or start with FALLEN IMMORTALS...
LUCIAN
I am a Dragon Prince of the House of Smoke… and I am dying.
Five hundred years is truly enough for a man like me. A monster. Yet a ten-thousand-year treaty will die with me, if I don’t spawn a dragonling to take my place. My two brothers are no use in this task. It falls to me, the eldest by a hair’s breadth, and yet, I cannot face the horror of another sealing. Another death. Another woman’s blood on my hands.
ARABELLA
I was saved from death in a dark Seattle alley by an impossibly beautiful man who swooped in on golden wings. Now he’s taken me to his lair, opened my eyes to a world of immortals I didn’t know existed, and given me an impossible task—find him a mate. Then, and only then, will he set me free. He needs her more than he wants; she wants him more than she should; and the fate of both the mortal and immortal worlds depends on not just repairing their hearts, but finding a Love that’s True…
The FALLEN IMMORTALS series is a modern Beauty and the Beast story with flaming HOT dragon shifters, vengeful Dark Fae, and beguiling fallen angels. Only readers over 18 should embark on this epic series of dangerous love that only an immortal might withstand.
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