Chapter One

Uriel

I stared out the large bay window of my loft apartment in the human city of Pasadena. Sunshine streamed through the tree leaves outside the window to flicker across the floor. I sensed the winds of change stirring in the air. 

I reached my hand instinctively toward the scar carved across my heart. Echoes of a long-forgotten happiness pressed forward in the recesses of my mind. With a constant ache in my chest, I remembered the loss of Aurora, my archeia, soul-mate condemned to live in the earthly realm. 

I live with Luc and often suspect he regrets his role in the curse thrust on us. With herculean effort, I shook off the resentment simmering in my heart. My father made his sons, the Sarim prince angels pay the price for his pain.  

As Throne Court angels over Tartarus, the underworld and Elysium, paradise, Luc and I protect the keys to the passage gates. 

“Coffee?” Luc asked. 

Startled by my twin’s voice, I turned away from the window. “Sure!” I adjusted my tie.

“Diablo called me to the gate of Tartarus last night.”

“What did the bastard want?” A tightness in my throat at the knowledge we might be caught in the middle of a deadly conflict between two strong willed warriors.

“Apparently, there’s a wager between our father and uncle for dominance over the soul of humanity.”

“And this is news?”

“Your bet with Samael’s involved.” Luc handed me a steaming cup of java and walked to the couch as if he hadn’t just dropped a white elephant into the room.

“Of course father once again interfere’s in areas where he should mind his own business.”

Luc took a sip of his coffee then reached for the remote and turned on the television set. The local weather girl announced above average temperatures for May.

“Will you be in the courtroom?”

“Not today, I’ve a meeting with a potential new client, but I’ll text you about tonight’s basketball game.”

“What’s the wager?” I asked positive, I wouldn’t come out ahead.

“That you’ll lose.” Luc rose from the couch and went into the kitchen.

“Impossible, this case is a slam-dunk.” A troubled frown marred Luc’s brow, and the corners of his mouth dipped down. And I saw concerned in his eyes.

“Watch your back— Samael’s a player.” Luc placed his coffee mug in the strainer and grabbed his jacket. “Later.”

Anger seared through me if Samael thought he’d win these seven souls, he was out of his mind. I constantly waged these chess-like battles with Samael to remind him that light, or rather goodness, would always prevail over darkness. But injustice often won the day, leaving me resentful of the games Yahweh and Diablo played with humanity. 

In two hours, I faced the seventh trial in my personal wager against Samael. I had to win. Losing was out of the question.

Using thought transference, a special form of telepathy, I teased Samael. “You’re losing your touch in the courtroom. Did you travel back to Tartarus with your tail between your legs?” I smiled. 

A taunting laugh echoed in my mind. 

“Tell me…is being Yahweh’s puppet satisfying?”

“Better than a Judas.” I knew the barb hurt. Both the underworld and celestial communities considered Samael a risky companion. He was an angel ruled by two masters. 

Drawing a deep breath, I focused my mind on today’s events. Later on, I’d enjoy watching Samael bow after I won our little wager. 

Dressed in a pinstriped, one-button fitted suit, I picked up my car keys, briefcase and headed to my law offices. I loved living and working in the historic district of Pasadena. This city was my second-favorite place on Earth, my first being at Cedar Lake, surrounded with water lilies, sprites, and the elementals of earth. The last time I’d seen my mother was in Cedar Lake, when she said goodbye and refused to return to Kumuria.  

Entering the Connor and Connor law offices, Ron, the security guard waved. I walked toward the elevator and hit the fourth-floor button. I’d left my Vogel crystal, along with the outline of my closing arguments on my desk. “Hello, Evelyn. Joseph.” Our office secretary and my personal assistant sat talking.

“Mr. Connor, your messages are next to the phone.”

“Thanks.” Opening the door to my office, I went to my desk and shuffled through a pile of papers. “Where is it?” 

The office tabby cat meowed. He arched his back and begrudgingly moved out of my way. 

The Vogel crystal was an indispensable tool I used to ward off the negative imprints from the fallen angels of darkness or the frustration of distraught humans. I found it in between files. I stuffed the crystal into my pants pocket, placed the outline in my briefcase, strolled and took the elevator down to the underground garage, and climbed into my BMW. Rush hour—I’d need at least an hour to reach Orange County from Pasadena, and I didn’t want to be late.

Samael hired several top-notch lawyers. They were using every trademark trick to discredit my arguments. If humans were smart, they’d turn their backs on the various pantheons of gods and learn to fend for themselves. Yet, they called to the Greek, Nordic, and Celestial deities for help.

Out of the seven trials, this case challenged me the most. Samael’s team of lawyers chose every downtrodden and heartbroken sloth in Orange County to serve on the jury. The prosecutor played on the hearts of the under-privileged.

A shadow of annoyance settled in my stomach. My client, an innocent man, became the scapegoat for the embezzlement charges facing the corporation. Damn it to the fiery sword of flame, I’d prove Jacobson’s virtue and make sure he didn’t spend the rest of his young life paying for a crime he didn’t commit. 

I turned off the freeway and parked in the underground structure. I looked at my watch. On time. The criminal case was on the morning docket. A small line flowed out the double doors of the court building as people waited to walk through the metal detectors. 

When my turn came, I placed my keys and phone in the basket. Red lights flashed, and two security guards frisked the elderly man in front of me. The guards found a Swiss army pocketknife, one with all the little gadgets. 

“I forgot to leave it at home,” he shrugged and gave the officer a pleading look.

“Your knife is right here. When you leave, you can have it back.”

“Thank you. My grandson gave it to me on my birthday.”

I smiled. The poor guy was human, yet I’d seen evil spirits use human hosts to achieve their goals. As I waited to go through the detector, a flicker of blue energy sparkled in the room. 

A pixie fluttered above the heads of the people in line. She waved at me.

A smile of pure joy touched her lips. A scent of honeysuckle wafted throughout the hall. Magicals usually stayed within their own parallel neighborhoods, where they were safe from the humans intent on trapping them, especially pixie’s, thinking they were damselflies. If she made herself visible, the pixie had a reason. 

I winked. 

She shaped her tiny hands into an outline of a heart then she flashed away. 

My mother sent a message reminding me not to let my father’s interference blind me against my real purpose.  

I sighed and waited my turn. After I secured my client’s innocence and won my bet, I’d take a vacation to my favorite paradise cove deep within the otherworld of elves. I needed to revive my own tired spirit and bask in the magical energy of the elfin kingdom. 

“Mr. Connor, your keys and phone,” the security guard held out the basket.

“Thank you,” I mumbled caught up in the memories of a long-ago time.

“Rough case?” Kevin, the older security guard at the door who’d welcomed me to the courthouse for the last two years asked.

I smiled and patted the man on the shoulder. “The trial’s a tough one.”

Courtroom ten was at the end of the hall. A small band of protestors holding signs crowded the hallway. One read, ‘Victimization from the rich.’ Those willing to protest and stand up for their beliefs held my respect even if their viewpoint. I read the truth in their motivation. The protestors wanted revenge for their own poverty, not the salvation of Jacobsons. 

I entered the courtroom. My client, dressed in a simple sports coat and tie, gazed in my direction. Our gazes locked and the million-dollar question hung like a noose—could I, without a doubt, save this man’s life? I could, if Jacobson’s free will didn’t interfere. His lack of faith weakened him, allowing the demons of darkness opportunities to feed from his fear and use it against him.

I shook Jacobson’s hands. “How are you this morning?”

“I convinced my wife our life is over.” His voice was a broken whisper. 

Mrs. Jacobson and his daughter both sat with lowered heads as if in pray. I took my seat and leaned toward him. “Stay calm. Don’t react to a word I say, and believe me, I’ll prove your innocence.” The Vogel crystal in my pocket vibrated with energy, propelling the negative energy away from my etheric field. “Don’t let your fear work against you. Drink some water and relax.”

“The CEO of Hampton Enterprise will pin everything on me. I don’t have a chance.”

“You’re a man of little faith.”

“What does one man mean in a pond of tadpoles? I’m nothing.”

“Not true.”

Samael, like me, refused to use his skills of mind control to charm those in the jury, yet Luc’s suggestion I might lose threatened my certainty. I drew in a long, slow breath, lowered my shoulders, and released the inhalation. 

I jotted down a few notes on my yellow legal pad: pick up my shirts from the cleaners, remind the Dominion angels in charge of assignments that I desired to stay in the Pasadena area. Get laid. After the last six months, I couldn’t wait to bask in the sun, drink sugar drinks, and bonk a few women.

Jacobson’s internal salvation—his belief in humanity—depended on whether I persuaded the jury to free him. His very soul hung in the balance, and Diablo loved the turmoil festering inside this man’s heart—food for the shadow demons. Jacobson was a good man but lacked stamina against true darkness. Over the centuries, I’d witnessed so many humans like him—basically nice, innocent people who lacked the strength to take a moral stance and fight for their own lives. 

These cases had grown tiresome. Yahweh, the celestial creator, demanded the righteousness of humanity to experience the darkest trials testing their allegiance. 

Archangel Michael, leader of the warrior angels, revealed himself to me as he lingered above the camera’s in the court room. “Read the fine print. Be careful you don’t get your ‘ass’ burned.” 

His sardonic tone echoed inside my thoughts and  grated my nerves. “Not a chance, the prosecutor’s talking with his tongue out of his shoes.” 

“Many a good liar has won the day.”

No doubt, my brothers placed wagers on the outcome. One might think the hundreds of  messenger angels would be too busy answering prayers, but no, they came to see which of us would win this day. 

My phone chimed, and I reached into my briefcase. Two redheads for tonight’s game, see you at six. I smiled.

A flicker of heat jolted through my hands. The L.A. Lakers played the Washington Wizards at the Staples Center. I loved the thrill of the sport, the screams of the crowd, and the fast-paced action of the court. The chatter in the gallery died away, so I silenced the ringer and placed my phone in my briefcase before turning to Jacobson. “Trust me, we’ll win.”

“My future depends on it.” The words were barely audible through his clenched teeth.

“All rise,” the bailiff stated in a rather hollow tone. 

The judge entered the courtroom and made his proclamations to the group. After the preliminaries, the prosecutor took the floor and argued that my client was a portrait of the one-percenters in society. 

The prosecutor’s words echoed the protestors outside the courtroom. “This man brings in a gross income of five hundred thousand per year. He’s an exclusive member of the ultra-affluent. People like him don’t comprehend the psychological or cultural lives of the people they manipulate with their corporate dishonesty.” 

Before I took the stage, I changed my rebuttal to contradict the prosecutor’s claim. His inaccurate stereotype was an injustice against those who worked hard and earned every penny they’d made. I looked at the gallery of spectators, court reporters, and Jacobson’s family. I inhaled a soothing breath. 

Silence echoed throughout the courtroom with no whispers, no clicking of nails, or no jostling of jewelry.  

“Framed. The very corporate, ultra-affluent business men you accuse him of stealing from framed Mr. Jacobson. He would never take money meant to help the downtrodden, the weak, and the hungry.  The prosecutor used elegant words in his attempt to persuade you of my client’s guilt. Let me paint you a different version of events. A version in which Mr. Jacobson fights against the tyranny of big corporate power. A power determined to silence his voice and yours.” Stalling to let my words sink in, I took a sip of water, turned to the jurors, and looked each one in the eye. “Does this man deserve to lose his family, his daughter, and his freedom for a crime he didn’t commit?” When I reached the twelfth juror, I softened my tone to a whisper. “You should honor this man for illustrating the courage of heart to stand against an establishment that seeks to control all of you.” A slow hiss whistled in my overactive mind, sounding like a tire before it blows. 

“Read the current situation before you jump to conclusions. Remember how unstable the human mind is—human emotions, not logic, feed their actions.” Michael’s words echoed in my thoughts. 

I released a long breath and lowered my shoulders to loosen the tightness in my neck.  “Ladies and gentlemen, his life rests in your hands.” 

With closing arguments completed and the jury instructions given, the judge dismissed the courtroom for lunch. 

The court bailiff escorted Jacobson to a closed room. 

Mrs. Jacobsons gaze followed him then her head slumped. Her brackish aura filled me with a deep unease as the light of joy disappeared from her eyes. She barely clung on to reality. The teenage girl understood, and her eyes held a hostile vengeance. I headed out the door.

“Enjoy your lunch,” the security guard from this morning said. 

I gave him the two-finger wave and left the courthouse. The light at the crosswalk blinked, and I strolled across the street to the coffee shop. I slipped inside a corner booth. Shelly, my favorite waitress, brought me a glass of ice tea. “You’re a gem.” 

She gave me a thumbs-up. “Ortega chili burger is on special.” 

“Sounds good.”

My younger brother, Gabriel, slid into the seat opposite me. “Make that two.” 

She gave him a sparkling smile. 

Gabriel had that effect on women. He walked in the room, and women tripped over themselves to take care of him. “Why are you here?” I asked slightly annoyed and needing someone to take my frustrations out on.

“I’m concerned. An uprising is brewing amongst the guardian angels who watch over humanity. Rumor is that the curse against the twelve of us is being lifted and through our union with our mates the chakra kundalini will rise to balance out the yin and yang of the universe.”

“So, our archeia will be returned to us.” I shrugged. After the separation of Aurora, my heart had hardened. A sharp pain slashed through my chest, and I gritted my teeth. 

Gabe sucked in a breath then he slumped against the booth cushion and touched his own jagged scar. 

“Apparently, we have to make our archeia fall in love with us in order to reunite,” he said in a ragged breath.

“Another challenge? I’m not interested.” I  laid my palm flat on the table tired of being a pawn in the God’s game.

A dark shadow reached his eyes, but he changed the subject.

“How’s the trial?” he asked.

“Jury appears to favor my client.”

“Michael thinks you’ll lose this one. He believes Samael will break his promise and manipulate the minds of the jury to influence the outcome of the case.”

“I’ll bring him to face the judgement of the Throne angels if he thwarts their freewill.” I furrowed my brow. “What makes you believe he’s willing to risk their punishment?”

“Lilith, Samael’s lover and first female created, has agreed to test Jacobson’s fate in the almighty.”

Shelly brought our food, and we both became silent, eating our burgers. 

I couldn’t imagine Samael breaking his word, knowing I’d honestly proven Jacobson innocence. “What does that have to do with me?” I took my frustration on the french fries jabbing them into the ketchup before eating them.

“Lilith just made the bargain sweeter. She told Samael if he lost to you one more time, she wouldn’t return to his bed for a decade.”

“And how do you know this?”

“She made it very clear to all who’d listen.” 

I chuckled Lilith knew how to use her charms to get what she wanted. “Well, that makes things tougher. He gets damn cranky when Lilith refuses to come and play in his sexual games.”

“She wants Jacobson.” 

I felt the blood drain from my face. Lilith wanted to break his soul and prove to Yahweh her power over humans. She still resented Yahweh for banishing her to the underworld and replacing her with Eve. Jacobson didn’t deserve any of this game. Imprisonment in the nether regions of the dead while still alive was the worst kind of torture.

“No!” I pounded the table with my fist, drawing the attention of the people in the next table. Inhaling a deep breath, I pulled in my rage at the injustice.

“Yahweh has given her the challenge to see if she can break his faith.”

“He’s innocent of any crime.” I snapped. I’d evaluated the akasha records of his life deeds. The man was a pillar in his community.

“That’s why she wants him.”

“And what of Jacobson?” I asked.

“He’ll serve his time in the underworld. If he survives, he’ll return to his family.”

I clenched my hands. “A destroyed man. I won’t agree to those terms.” I shook with the impotent realization that if Yahweh gave his blessing to challenge this man’s faith, I couldn’t do anything to help him. The Throne of angels forbade my interference when Yahweh tested a man’s free-will.

Shelly took away Gabe’s plate as she slipped my brother a card with her number on it.  

“Thanks, Shelly.” I handed her my plate then looked back to Gabe, feeling deflated and nervous. “I’m going to the office to finish paperwork. I’m meeting Luc at six.”

Gabriel dropped a twenty on the table. “Remind Luc  the Sarim council is meeting with the leaders of the  celestial Dominion angels. Yahweh demands we return to Kumuria at sunset tomorrow.” 

“I can’t make it.” Anger burned in my soul, and my temper flared with contemptuous fury at the unfairness that Yahweh would demand my presence during the trial.

“Not negotiable.” 

The last time the Sarim princes went to a universal meeting, I’d found myself in the worst war of the twentieth century.

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