Tales of the Fallen Book I: Awakenings by Edward Lee, David G. Barnett Read Free Book Online

up close to White and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Because I don’t like being played and I don’t like pussies .” And with that Mal grasped the hilt of the blade and pulled. And as the last sliver of the blade left White’s body, Mal could feel all the angel’s energy follow the blade out. The room began to tremble. The windows bowed in and White let out another earth-shattering cry. And suddenly Mal found himself at ground zero as White’s body exploded with the energy of a thousand suns.
     
    When the sound finally abated, Mal found himself on his knees in the middle of what used to be the top floor of Jericho White’s office building. He was trembling, but not with fear, with power. The Blade of Undoing was still clutched in his hand and he could feel its vibration coursing through his body. It sang to him.
    He stood and let the power overtake his battered body and let loose a roar loud enough for the entire city to hear.
    He turned to leave, his decision made. He needed to pay an old friend a visit and thank him for all the wonderful gifts he had given him. Then Gregory would feel the sting of undoing . And after that Mal would seek out every last angel and undo them in turn.
    Gregory was right about one thing. Mal would open the gates of Heaven, but there would be no parade of forgotten angels trailing him through. For when Mal was done slaughtering the angels here on earth he was going for the ones in Heaven. Oh yeah , Mal thought, Heaven will be mine. Because when he finished with those sons-of-bitches, he was going after God. And that motherfucker was gonna pay.
     
    —

Daddy Demon’s Day Out
     
     
    Travis watched as the claw emerged from the wall of smoke before him. The skin was green, or red, or reddish green, he couldn’t tell. Travis shrugged—it was some color—who cares? His nose twitched as a horrid stench invaded it, reaching deep into his body, wrapping around his brain, snaking down into his stomach, through to his lower guts and out his asshole with a meaty, slightly wet-sounding and totally violent fart. Travis blushed.
    A low rumbling sound arose from the wall of smoke. “Nice one.”
    All the previous blush left Travis’ face in a flash, replaced, instead, with a deathly pale white. “Uh-uh,” he stammered and took a step back as the claw began fanning the smoke away in a way that Travis found kind of… girlie.
    Then he heard a heavy blowing sound—like you make when blowing out a candle, only wetter—but not as wet as Travis’ earlier fart, of which he was certain there had to be visible evidence marking his shorts—and the wall of smoke began to disappear and the space was soon filled with a creature even Travis wasn’t expecting.  
    Travis stood there, his jaw hanging so low that it was possible he would begin drooling any second. Either that, or he was going to piss himself.
    Travis followed the claw up and up. It flowed into an arm as big as Travis’ torso. Ridiculously defined muscles were covered with a roadwork of veins and sinew that led to the beast’s body which was easily three men wide. Well, at least two big men and maybe one skinny. And on top of the torso sat such an abortion of God’s creation Travis didn’t know whether to feel pity or scrub pots with the thing’s face. Travis’ neck began to hurt from looking up at the beast that was easily eight feet tall. He wanted to look away, but he was so entranced—or was it disgusted—that he just couldn’t. And Travis continued staring even as the massive claw—the palm of which was bigger than Travis’ head—reached out toward him. He didn’t even notice as the claw moved close, closer, so close to Travis’ face. The talons curled slightly in. And the thumb and middle finger came together and then…
    …thwick…
    …flicked Travis square in the forehead.
    “Snap out of it, Chico,” the booming voice said flatly. “I know, I know, I’m so fucking gorgeous you just can’t stop staring,