Shades of Death Read online

  Shades of Death

  Dark Gate Angels™ Book Two

  Ramy Vance

  Michael Anderle

  The Shades of Death Team

  Thanks to our Beta Team:

  Larry Omans, Rachel Beckford

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  Dave Hicks

  Veronica Stephan-Miller

  Dorothy Lloyd

  Diane L. Smith

  Kerry Mortimer

  Deb Mader

  If we’ve missed anyone, please let us know!

  Editor

  The Skyhunter Editing Team

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2020 by Ramy Vance & Michael Anderle

  Cover Art by Jake @ J Caleb Design

  http://jcalebdesign.com / [email protected]

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  A Michael Anderle Production

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US Edition, June 2020

  ISBN (ebook) 978-1-64971-003-1

  ISBN (paperback) 978-1-64971-004-8

  Contents

  Part I

  Part II

  Part III

  Author Notes Ramy Vance

  Author Notes Michael Anderle

  Other books by Ramy Vance

  Books By Michael Anderle

  Connect with The Authors

  Dedication

  For Nora Stewart … I’m damn lucky to have you as a mother-in-law.

  —Ramy Vance

  To Family, Friends and

  Those Who Love

  to Read.

  May We All Enjoy Grace

  to Live the Life We Are

  Called.

  — Michael

  Part I

  Chapter One

  A helicopter flew over the New York skyline. Anyone looking up from the streets would have seen nothing special about it, but the aircraft carried within it one of the last hopes of humanity.

  The Dark Gate Angels.

  And two were motion-sick.

  The helicopter’s side hatch was wide open, and Anabelle—the de-facto leader of the DGA—sat on the edge, her feet dangling while she watched the city beneath her.

  She’d spent years walking through the streets of New York. Eating, visiting galleries, modeling, entertaining guests. Mostly though, she had been stealing secrets.

  A part of Anabelle hated New York. The city was always busy, and it had made her busy. The constant rush had transformed into something more than mere restlessness. Anabelle had been a quiet child, but it was hard to remember where that kid had gone.

  There could be worse things, though.

  Terra sat across from Anabelle, her face shoved into a paper bag as she tried hard not to vomit. Anabelle, a fair-skinned, rail-thin elf with long, night-black hair, was the polar opposite of Terra, who was stacked like a bodybuilder, her hair buzzed to the scalp, and her ears a little too large for her face.

  Anabelle was envious of Terra’s ears. She wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but she did believe they suited the human just fine. Anabelle touched the point of her own ear absentmindedly as she glanced at Abby to check on how she was holding up.

  Though this was Abby’s second helicopter ride, she was as nervous as her first time. But at least she wasn’t as bad as Terra.

  Abby was leaning her head against the side of the copter. The youngest of the DGA, she looked far more suited to a desk job. Her Coke-bottle glasses gave her the air of a pencil-pusher.

  The funny thing was, Abby didn’t need glasses; she wore them as a fashion choice. A teenager’s idea of fashion, at least. Anabelle could appreciate that despite considering it a little silly. Clothes could be used as a form of armor. And how you chose to present yourself could be a weapon in your arsenal.

  Abby appeared to be figuring that out for herself, having donned a pair of denim overalls not unlike the pair Anabelle had seen her wearing in an old family photo.

  Anabelle moved to her feet, holding on to the support brace as the wind whipped her hair around. She crossed the cabin to sit between Abby and Terra. “You two going to be able to make it to the drop point, or should I send you home?”

  Terra looked up from her bag and sneered. “And let you have all the fun? No, I’ll be straight once we get out of the air. I hate flying. It always tears my stomach up. You know, once I threw up on a flight attendant while they were trying to convince me not to get a gin and tonic.”

  “How many had you drunk before?”

  Terra raised a hand as though about to relate the memory, but instead, she swallowed hard. “That’s not the point of the story now, is it?”

  Anabelle laughed as she turned her attention to Abby. “How about you? Are you going to be okay?”

  Abby nodded vigorously. “I’ll live. Probably will also feel better once I get both feet on the ground. This thing shakes too much. Why’d Myrddin send us in a beat-up ol’ chopper? He usually sends us out in style. Or at least comfort.”

  Anabelle pulled up her HUD menu, which displayed from a more convenient location on her wrist. She was glad Abby had retrofitted a new design for her and the team. Having to pull a HUD visor down over your head, despite it being holographic, was beyond irritating.

  A holomap projected from Anabelle’s HUD watch revealing New York and its impressive skyline. Anabelle pointed at the Empire State building. “Myrddin is taking a different approach to this mission. We’re usually arriving right when a gate is opening, always trying to catch up with what’s happening. This time, we’ll be early. And we don’t want to give the Dark One’s forces any reason to speed things up, you know?”

  Abby shook her head, appearing to disagree. But Anabelle figured out quickly that the girl was close to throwing up. She grabbed a bag and handed it to Abby, who snatched it and proceeded to hurl.

  After a few minutes, Abby closed the bag, leaned against the hull of the helicopter, and sighed loudly. “Does anyone have a breath mint?”

  Terra reached into her pocket, retrieved a packet of gum, and passed it to Abby, who popped one in her mouth and chewed loudly.

  “Ugh. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before,” Abby muttered. She closed her eyes and nanobots poured from her skin, covering her in sleek black metallic armor. “That’s better. The nanobots will counter the helicopter’s movements. Should get rid of this motion sickness in a jiffy.”

  Abby sat up straighter. She drew in a deep breath, got to her feet, and walked to the open door to peer over the edge. “Thank God for technology, right?”

  Terra glanced up from her bag and groaned. “Maybe for you… This exo-suit just seems to make everything worse.” She banged her free hand against the suit’s side.

  Abby laughed. “It has its drawbacks, but also its good side. After all, it’ll boost you right up to the strength you had in the coliseum. I been making adjustments to the old suits, so this should work better.”

  Anabelle thought back to her first mission with humans who’d been wearing similar exo-suits. It ha
d been a disaster. She hoped Abby’s version worked better. Otherwise, Terra would be useless in a fight.

  Terra moaned loudly as she lay on her side. It was hard to imagine Terra as the sole human who had survived the Game Master, a lieutenant in the Dark One’s coliseum on the orcish world. After her successes, Terra had received the title of orc chieftain.

  Coliseum survivor, orc chieftain, now defeated by a tiny bit of motion sickness.

  Anabelle went to stand beside Abby and give Terra some space to deal with her sickness. The pair looked out at the skyscrapers and traffic below. “First time in the city?”

  Abby shook her head. She’d been here once before, also in a battle scenario. And that was when she had met Persephone, a drow assassin who had tried to kill her. But all was well that ended well. The drow might have tried to kill her once, but now...now they were friends.

  More than friends.

  Persephone, Abby thought, I really miss that mutated drow.

  The pilot turned to Anabelle. “We’re landing in a few minutes. Get ready.”

  Anabelle flashed him a thumbs-up and took a seat. Abby sat beside her. The pair maintained splatter-distance from Terra, who was still green in the face.

  The helicopter flew to the top of the Empire State building. Abby helped Terra to her feet as Anabelle leapt out the hatch and landed on the drop spot.

  Abby jumped, her nanobots’ propulsion system slowing her descent so she could land gracefully. Terra followed, landing with considerably less grace, but at least on her feet.

  Terra was still swearing under her breath, struggling to get used to her armor as she jogged over to the other two DGAs a few feet away. “Can I get some of them nanobots? I want to float like a butterfly, too.”

  Abby smiled over her shoulder at Terra. “They’d never take to you. They got taste.”

  “I never met anything that didn’t take to me.” Terra pinched Abby’s cheeks. “Including redneck teenagers.”

  Anabelle chuckled at the back and forth between Abby and Terra. The two hadn’t known each other for long, but they already sounded like great friends. Anabelle hoped they felt the same about her.

  Goddess, maybe cut the insecurity for one mission?

  The three Dark Gate Angels strode over to the building’s ledge. Anabelle knelt and pulled out a pair of binoculars. She pointed at a building across from them. “That’s where the gate is supposed to open up. We don’t know the exact room, but we got the floor number. Soon as it goes off, we swing in and tear it up. Sounds easy enough, right?”

  Terra cracked her knuckles nervously. “Yeah, I guess so. Do these kinds of things usually go off without a hitch?”

  Anabelle remembered this was Terra’s first mission on Earth. Correction—it was Terra’s first mission ever. Not that Terra wasn’t combat-ready—she’d spent almost a month fighting for her life. But this mission would feel different: working with a team, not being in charge.

  “No,” Anabelle admitted. “Things can go to shit pretty fast. But as long as we’re communicating and working together, things usually turn out all right.”

  Terra smiled faintly as she leaned backward and supported her weight on her hands behind her.

  Abby was staring at the skyscrapers, her eyes wide with wonder. “Last time I was in New York, I was in a fight. Second time, and I’m about to get into another fight.” Abby chuckled. “Guess this city lives up to the hype. Still, never thought I’d see New York once, let alone twice. Never seemed like a place people like me would go. Ma is going to freak out when she sees this.”

  Anabelle gave Abby a curious look. “What do you mean, see?”

  Abby tapped the side of her eye. “Taking videos and pictures of the whole thing. Planning on showing her as soon as I see her.”

  “Cute. She’ll probably appreciate that. Is New York everything you thought it would be?”

  Abby shrugged as she kicked her feet over the side of the building. “Eh. Could take it or leave it. Can’t miss a jewel you never kissed.”

  Terra, who was watching the sun reflected in the glass of the building across from them, chuckled softly. “Okay, I’m gonna just say it. Half the things you say don’t make sense, kid. Are you messing with us with all your homespun wisdom?”

  Abby laughed as the nanobots on her face receded, revealing her girlish smile. “No, no, it’s a force of habit. It was something my dad and I did ‘cause he thought it was hilarious. You know country folks. Used to drive my ma crazy. We never got tired of it, though.”

  A silence fell over the Dark Gate Angels as Abby’s eyes went dark. The nanobots rolled back over her face, covering her in an obsidian coating. Anabelle hated seeing Abby like this. Usually the kid was a ball of creative energy and curiosity. But recently, anytime Abby’s father was mentioned, Anabelle would see the hatred in Abby’s eyes.

  Anger was a good emotion in a war. Helped motivate you. Kept you going. But hatred? Hatred was an entirely different emotion. A dangerous one. Hatred had unpredictable consequences. Anabelle had seen entire worlds consumed by one person’s hatred. She hoped Abby would never become that kind of person.

  Terra must have picked up on the vibe from Abby as well. She slung her arm around Abby, pulled the kid close, and knocked on Abby’s metallic forehead. “Hey, where you gone to?”

  Abby tried to avoid Terra’s eyes. “Nowhere. Still in New York.”

  “You gonna tell me how this armor is supposed to work, or am I gonna have to figure it out myself?”

  The nanobots rolled away enough to reveal Abby’s bright eyes and her wide grin. “Oh! It’s a special version of what Myrddin’s marines use. Blackwell’s squad. The difference between your model and theirs is energy output. Theirs is set at a standard output, whereas yours is customized to fluctuate with your pineal and adrenal glands through a heart-monitoring system.”

  Terra raised an eyebrow at Abby. “You know, not all of us speak scientist.”

  Abby laughed and apologized. “Your suit’s performance will improve the more you are stressed. Or angry. Kinda like back in the coliseum.”

  “That was determination, not anger.”

  “Whatever you want to call it, if it gets your blood pumping, your muscles’ll be next.”

  Anabelle cleared her throat and pointed at a window in the building across from them. She was glad to have a distraction. “There it is! That glint. The gate is opening up over there.”

  Terra was on her feet, squinting at the window. “I don’t see anything.”

  Anabelle handed Terra the binoculars. “There.”

  The nanobots covered Abby’s face. “Yeah, I can see it too.”

  As Terra returned the binoculars, Anabelle caught something else out of the corner of her eye. There was a glint in another room. Then another. And another. “Shit. There’s going to be more than one gate.”

  Anabelle scanned the building to her right. A handful of the tell-tall glints of the impending Dark Gates appeared within. “Ugh. Why isn’t intel ever right? Myrddin should start sending us out with a whole army every time we leave HQ.”

  Abby’s back thrusters fired, and she floated a little away from the team to get a better look. “There’s gonna be a lot of them, huh? Are we getting any backup?”

  Anabelle nodded. “Blackwell’s unit is already on their way. I had a feeling that three of us wouldn’t be enough. Still could have used an army, though. Would be nice to have my own army.”

  There was a buzz and a glow as the first gate opened right behind Abby, Anabelle, and Terra. The trio whirled as they heard the sizzling of the gate cracking into their dimension.

  A single orc exited the Dark Gate. She wore thin, tattered leather that appeared to fall off her as she moved. Intricate tattoos covered her skin, though none were even slightly indicative of orcish life or culture. Her body was all lean, knotty muscle.

  Grok, the Unspoken, watched the Dark Gate Angels silently as she crossed her arms. Her eyes burned with rage as if they were capable
of killing.

  The last time Anabelle had seen Grok, the orc had almost killed her while leading an attack on Washington, DC. Grok didn’t look like a leader, though. The orc was more than that; she was a weapon.

  For the first time, Anabelle understood. This orc isn’t chipped. They want this.

  Grok stepped forward and Anabelle flinched, a tiny movement she hoped Grok hadn’t noticed.

  The orc snickered and waggled her hands at her sides. “You aren’t ready for me. None of you are.”

  “Grok,” Anabelle spat, her neck prickling with anger. “Last time, you could barely handle me.”

  Grok waved her hands around and snorted. “You mean all of your little elf magic tricks?”

  Anabelle knew it was a ploy, but she couldn’t help wanting to smash open Grok’s face for speaking so disrespectfully of the Way. Or was it of Anabelle? “What are you planning to do here? You’d think an orc would understand that attacking civilians is cowardly. Your boss is a bottom feeder. From the number of gates you’re opening, it looks like you’re sneaking around, trying to pick off unarmed people down on the streets. That’s not something a real warrior would do.”

  Grok laughed, a harsh sound more akin to a cough. “I’m surprised you even know the word ‘warrior.’ Making your hands hot doesn’t make you a warrior. But you are right—the Dark One is no warrior. Neither am I.”

  “Oh? Then what are you?”

  Grok smiled, her sharp teeth shimmering through her orcish snarl. “A force.”