Saint Peter’s Gate

Fran Comesanas

Description

Ember is seven hundred pounds of fangs, claws, and wrath, sent to take your soul. If you try to resist, you will not die well.
Darkness violently rips Ember’s family away, leaving her in absolute despair. In a near catatonic state of shock she moves to take Whisper’s clawed hand as the demon offers her salvation.
All Ember wants is the pain to stop as the bloody bath water pools around her on the floor, but in a flash of black feathers and godsteel, the Old One intercedes, robbing the rogue demon of his prize.
The Angel of Death offers the girl an alternative to sharing her family’s fate. Ember must choose of her own free will whether to become a demon herself and work for the Old One, or be thrust back into the nightmare she left behind.

Sujets

• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• Demonios (película)
• Ángel (desambiguación)
• Ember
• Demon
• Angels
• Dark
• Heaven
• Limbo
• Fiction
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Trafford Publishing
• Date de parution: 14 mai 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781698700878
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

The Saint Peter’s Gate Trilogy
 
Book I
Path of Darkness
 
Book II
Wave of Darkness
 
Book III
Ember
 
saintpetersgate.com
SAINT PETER’S GATE

Ember
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
FRAN COMESANAS
 
© Copyright 2020 Fran Comesanas. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.
 
ISBN: 978-1-6987-0089-2 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-6987-0088-5 (hc) ISBN: 978-1-6987-0087-8 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020908817
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
Trafford rev. 05/13/2020
  www.trafford.com North America & international toll-free: 844-688-6899 (USA & Canada) fax: [phone]
CONTENTS
Preface
Descent Into Hell
Prologue
Book I
Chapter I   Whisper’s Play
Chapter II   Lambs to The Slaughter
Chapter III   To The Death
Chapter IV   Consequence
Chapter V   Fallout
Chapter VI   Tourists
Chapter VII   Just Desserts
Chapter VIII   The Awakening
Chapter IX   Incoming
Chapter X   The Starting Line
Book II
Chapter I   Training Day
Chapter II   Out of The Frying Pan
Chapter III   Into The Fire
Chapter IV   Time Off
Chapter V   Homecoming
Chapter VI   Enter Isabella
Chapter VII   Terminations and Interrogations
Chapter VIII   Revulsion
Chapter IX   Rumors Laid to Rest
Chapter X   The Puzzle
Book III
Chapter I   Innocence Lost
Chapter II   Same-Day Delivery
Chapter III   Close Call
Chapter IV   A Day Off
Chapter V   Judgment Day
Chapter VI   Murderer and Murderess
Chapter VII   The Floodgates Open
Chapter VIII   Overthinking
Chapter IX   The Past Echoes
Chapter X   The Debt Collector
Book IV
Chapter I   Time Flies
Chapter II   Unwanted Answers
Chapter III   Extraction
Chapter IV   Spies
Chapter V   A New Hunt Begins
Chapter VI   The Heavyweight Title
Chapter VII   Deceitful
Chapter VIII   Back to Business
Chapter IX   Darkness Awaits
Chapter X   Fates Intertwine
Chapter XI   Forging the Future
 
Epilogue
Author’s Note
PREFACE
I t was a cool October morning, four o’clock. The landscape unraveled below me faster than my feet were moving. There were creatures chasing me. They were snarling as they sprinted, not far behind, hungering for the taste of human flesh.
I dared not look back.
Sprinting into a massive structure to find shelter, I turned into a small room. I noticed everything was green, perhaps jade or emerald in color. There were high partitions in the room, but it seemed empty.
I slumped against the wall and slid down into a seated position. After catching my breath, I spoke aloud, “I have to get out of here.”
I am startled by a voice from somewhere in the room. Fear gets me to my feet as the disembodied voice replies, “No one can leave this place.”
I bolt through the archway and out through the enormous doors without looking back as I run for my very life.
Everything becomes a blur.
The chase begins anew.
I am sprinting across a barren landscape, dodging clutching claws, scratching at my legs. Leaping over small streams, I try to create distance between me and the beasts. Creatures jump at me out of the white water, snapping at me with hungry jaws.
I try to jump over a wider stream but fall short. I attempt to scramble up the bank, but my mistake is immediately punished.
Razor-sharp teeth clamp down on my ankle. The pain is exquisite. Whatever it is begins to pull me down into the stream.
I clutch at the ground, but the creature is too strong.
Sitting up on the edge of the bed, I tell myself this dream would make a great story. Lying down, I go happily back to sleep and fall into the nightmare again, leaping and dodging and out of breath, running for my life.
I wake up again later that morning, having somehow survived my experience in Limbo. I turned the computer on and sat down. A few hours later, I had written the first twenty-seven pages of Path of Darkness .
Five and a half years later, my first book was finished, and I was overwhelmed by the enthusiasm you showed for it.
The second book followed soon after, only taking eighteen months to complete. As it was a continuation of Path , Wave of Darkness was far easier to write, as the story was only waiting to be completed.
This book is dedicated to you. Thank you for all of your kind words and wonderful reviews. Thank you for the time and effort you put into reading my books. I could not have written a third or even a second novel without your wonderful support.
Respectfully yours,
Fran
 
Free will is an unintended weapon, its blade often wielded without thought or care.
—Fran Comesanas
DESCENT INTO HELL
I am in a hell of my own choosing. I am trapped in this terrible, frightening creature. I am ugly, fantastical, my task nothing less than horrific.
My father fell from the roof of the merchant house. They all said he was kind, successful. They all said they were shocked that he died in such a fashion. The whispers started almost immediately, claiming that he took his own life. My mother followed soon after, taking my baby brother with her. The voices said it would be fine, that I would be fine, but what other choice was there?
I knew in my heart that the voice was false, the voice was damnation, and yet here I stand in this grotesque form. There is no question that I would have been doomed to a hell far more disturbing had I chosen differently. I feel it in the pit of my stomach. I was right to choose the path I am on now, but what about my family? What path was set out before them? How could such a thing have befallen such good people, such generous people?
Anger seethes into my blackening heart. When I was human, I knew very little of hate, and yet now as I begin to pursue my new life, there is a sort of corruption perverting the values that my honorable parents had set out to teach me.
As time goes by, I sense that my values and my compassion for others are slowly rotting away, like the aging planks of a pier that have long been forgotten by ships and sailors.
The most terrible thing of all is that I do not understand what is happening to me, or why.
—Ember
PROLOGUE
T endrils of fear crept up through the old oak floor, rooting her in place. She tried to scream at her mother to get her to save her baby brother. Ember was helpless, frozen by terror, and yet the voice in her head told her everything was fine. Everything was all right.
Ethan had been sitting in the tub, laughing and splashing, but as the water continued to flow from the brass faucet, the child sensed that something was wrong. His mother’s head lolled down as the cuts in her wrist drained her life force. Ethan cried out and attempted to reach his mommy but fell forward. He tried to stand but then fell back, landing on his bottom, the water now too deep for Ethan. The child, only nineteen months, found his feet. Instinct made Ethan reach for the edge of the tub as he gasped for air and then cried out one final time.
Ember watched, immobilized, as the little hand slipped from the edge. Ethan disappeared with a small splash.
Bloody water began to pour over the rim of the tub and onto the floor. Ember’s tears released her from the scene’s terror but only enough to allow her to fall to her knees.
The black and rotting voice in her head purred sympathy, putrid honey keeping her heart from stopping. A voice so sickeningly sweet that it nearly makes her vomit.
Soon, the bloody bathwater begins to pool around her knees. The horror of seeing her mother’s blood puddling around her forces her down to all fours. She pushes herself away from the apocalyptic bathroom nightmare until her retreat is stopped by the hallway wall. Her dress is soaked and tinged red, and then the spiraling mist appears before her.
All the while, the sickly sweet voice in her head assured her that everything was fine and that she would be fine. Her mother and baby brother could no longer feel the pain of this world.
Ember began to take great shuddering breaths as the swirling mist began to coalesce into the shape of a man, but through the blur of her tears, she knew something was wrong.
“Come away with me,” the man-shaped thing said. “Let me end your suffering. Let me help. You do not deserve such sorrow. Come away with me.”
The man looked as if he had wings, but they had been badly damaged. There was what might have once been a horn protruding from one side of his head. The hand he held out to her was not a hand but a clawed monstrosity. She pushed herself back against the wall in the hallway as if her effort would somehow force her into the next room. The sound of water flowing from the faucet continued to babble into the overflowing tub.
Ember dared to look past the creature in one final desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of her mother. Perhaps she would suddenly awaken and protect her, but that would not come to pass. Only the top of her mother’s head was visible now in the tub of bloo