Absolution At Dawn Read online

  Absolution

  At

  Dawn

  By

  Eryn Black

  He was a fallen angel, cast out to exist as a vampire, a slave to his hunger for blood, but of all the things he had lost in his exile, the worst was losing her. They had agreed to one night of passion, setting aside the pains and betrayals of their past and submitting to their desires for one night. Can an Angel give herself to a vampire who had been banished from paradise for an unforgivable sin? Aurora had been his dawn, his joy, his bright morning sun, but Azreal had lived for four hundred years without hope and without love. Could she, once again, embrace him in her heart and could they both find the ability to forgive in this one night?

  Absolution at Dawn

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright 2018 © Eryn Black

  Cover by JRA Stevens

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  Letter from the Author

  Dear Reader’s

  While researching biblical stories and names for my Nephilim War series a number of folklores and tales caught my eye and sparked inspiration for several stories to build from. One in particular was one centered around a love affair between the Angel Aurora, the Angel of Dawn and pregnant women, and the Angel of Death and how she betrayed him with a Finnish fisherman, breaking his heart. A love affair between night and day brings a natural balance, but also holds so many possibilities. Naturally I wondered about the outcome of such a love affair and what lengths would the Angel of Death go to while trying to mend the pain of a broken heart. Though I do have references to Uriel, who is in Nephilim War, this story has no connection to the series, beyond sharing the same supernatural universe, and though there is no current plan to have any character cross over, one never knows where the imagination will take us. I hope you enjoy this sinful taste of wicked delights and when the Nephilim War series ends I look forward to bringing you more delectable tales.

  -Eryn Black

  Other Works

  By

  Eryn Black

  The Master

  Maid For His Submission

  Seduced by Her Master

  The Master Submits …Coming in 2017

  Tales From Club Odyssey

  Members Only

  Making The Master Beg

  The Cat’s Meow

  Nephilim Wars Series

  Kindred Sacrifice

  Ravenous Desires

  Blood and Ashes

  Sovereign Sinners

  The Viscount Returns

  The Earls Lady Wife

  The Dukes Captive Princess

  Black Lace

  An Anthology of Victorian Seduction

  More Tales Of Victorian Seduction

  Absolution

  At

  Dawn

  Chapter One

  The Old Absinthe House in the French Quarter was a gothic landmark for hipsters who visited New Orleans with its macabre history and the allure of its psychedelic nectar. But in the harsh and cleansing light of day the antique bar served as a haven for the supernatural with its blackened windows, dark corners, hidden passages and willing donors intoxicated by the green fairy. The sun was one element not permitted beyond the entryway where a heavy black velvet curtain kept out the light and held in the cloud of fragrant hookah smoke. It was a visible barrier to what would be sudden death for those who lived in the darkness of night and existed with a lustful hunger for blood. Here is where the lost souls of the night find their final resting place and where the demented souls that society chooses to forget are lost to the pleasures of the green burning nectar of Absinthe.

  The day was near its end, with only moments from burning out into the horizon freeing those who hid away to escape from the confines of this hideaway that smelled of stale air and old cigarettes. Azrael was sick of the perfumed smell of roses and peaches from the hookah in one corner and would vomit, if it were possible, from the foul stench of the woman in the booth next to him. There were a number of terms, one would say were not PC, that he could use to label her infirmity and his judgment would not be too far off. From her limited and cheap clothing over her frightfully skinny body, to the color of ash in her skin and the look of death in her eyes from years of intoxicated abuse. It was sickening to see such life wasted for something so useless and hours ago Azrael had made the decision that should she still be here, once dispatched his target for the night, he would return to help her cleanse herself of her repugnant demons; but first, he had to play his role of helpless hunted to reel in his prey.

  A waitress, dressed in a black latex dress, set a crystal glass in front of him. Short in height, it was a cone-shaped glass with beveled adornments and lying across the top was a silver spoon supporting a clean, white sugar cube. She struck a match to light the sugar bringing it to bubble and melt before dropping it into the elixir, igniting the surface of the drink. It was one quick toast to the approaching night and he waited while the waitress turned the spoon over to drop the cube into the glass, then leaned over, blowing out the flame before departing to see to her other customers. Azrael lifted the glass to his lips and drank back the Absinthe with a happy sigh, feeling the warmth invade his cold body and send a peaceful high to his head. He discarded the glass on the table and stood up to wait for his guest. He turned back for a quick moment to serve his one good deed for the night.

  Draped in the booth like a corpse, the woman’s head had fallen back and her eyes were eerily open, like two small slits had been cut into her eyelids, with a dead stare leaving her to look more gone from this world than asleep in a high. Azrael could smell the meth that rotted in her veins and swore he would return to help extract the poison that she had filled herself with later when there was time, but for now he would see to her safety so that she might live until later. He held her arm tight in his grasp, with his talon shaped nails pressing into the fresh pin-hole in her vein, he squeezed and squeezed until she awoke in pain, her eyes now open with heavy lids, she looked up into his face to protest his touch, demanding money up front for anything. Azrael ignored her demands and commanded her to look him in the eyes.

  “You will see me,” he said with a low, but authoritative tone. “It was the likes of you that had once kept me well employed and, had I still been on the job, I am confident to say that you are not far from the reapers scythe, but for now I wish to help you.” The woman made a sleepy protest, but he used his other hand to firmly grip her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look him in the eyes again and locking her in his power of control.

  “You will leave here now and use this money to properly feed yourself… soup and salad, but no garlic, and then go home to sleep the night away. You will not leave your home for work or pleasure until I have summoned you…” he paused to think for a moment to search out her name in the woman’s empty thoughts, “Terry.”

  He reached into his pocket and placed a few crumpled bills in her hand which he assisted to close and hold them tight.

  “You will resist the urge to use this for anything else and you will heed my instructions.” The woman mumbled her compliance, to his delight, “Now go.”

  Without another word spoken he released Terry, who blinked awake and was filled with fright. It took a moment or two until the fog was lifted from her eyes which were still embedded in deep hallow caverns in her sunken face. Struck by unknown terrors she
looked from side to side as if she had awakened from a nightmare and struggled to find her purse where she safely deposited her money and scrambled out of the booth toward the doors, leaving the paraphernalia behind. Soon Azrael would make good his promise to return to her and cleanses her body of that poison, but for the time being he could pat himself on the back for a job well done.

  “I’m surprised you let your meal escape,” the obnoxious tone of youth pierced Azrael’s ears and he slowly turned around to see Damian standing there with a stake primed in his hand. “Although, I would have thought you the type to eat more organic.”

  “You mock the mortals that you so nobly try to save? I would think that your father would have taught you better than that.” He had little temperament for a Nephilim as young as Damian. Normally Azrael would wait 500 years before taking a young pups challenge, but this hunter was eager to create a name for himself and he served Azrael’s own purpose.

  “There is a witch’s spell over this establishment preventing you from staking me here, so I would suggest you go away little boy.” Azrael turned his back on Damian offering him a clean shot, which was not wasted, but as the stake neared its target it crumbled into dust. Damian did not hesitate and pulled a cross from the breast pocket of his button-up khaki shirt and reached out to brand the vampire with it, but a force prevented him from reaching his target. Blocked by an invisible barrier, the man struggled and strained with both hands, pushing with all his will to break through, but with all his effort he did not manage to gain a single inch and when Azrael turned around, Damian was thrown off his feet onto the floor.

  “As I said, I don’t wish to hurt the furniture in this place, so I would like to take this outside. Please, let us be polite in here.” It was an odd gesture of civility and etiquette.

  “Either you need a watch, or you wish to have the sun do the work for me.” The 100-year-old youth was slowly standing with his eyes trained on his target. “The sun is still minutes from setting, but if that be your wish, then by all means proceed, and I will follow you out.”

  “You are an overeager pup,” Azrael felt as though he were babysitting this young hunter. He flew at the man to hover over him, grasping the collar of his shirt and lifting him up off the ground by a foot. “I am not some emotionally charged, dramatic convert. I am an ancient, I am a true immortal. I am death.” His lips rolled back with that last word to display the slow extending growth of his two clean white fangs, which grew over his perfect bite. “And the only pain that the sun brings to me is in the form of a fiery redhead who knows me by name.”

  Flung through the entry doors, Damian was caught unaware of Azrael’s attack, which disrupted his moment of reflection. Landing hard on the ground among scattering tourists before he was lifted up over the vampire’s head. Damian looked at the last dying rays of sunlight that fought against the horizon, then back again at Azrael with startled revelation.

  “You really should ask your father to have a long sit-down with you to talk about the bats and the spiders,” he joked before flipping Damian over, holding him with his front to the vampire hunter’s back, his head pulled to one side for the most satisfying angle. “But for now, I think I’ll have a bite… on you.”

  Azrael felt ridiculous, at times, delivering such cheesy lines, but there were times for dramatic silence and poignant delivery and then there were times, like this one, when Azrael was simply hungry. Change had been a common occurrence over the centuries, but in the last hundred years he had begun to feel dizzy with how people propelled themselves into a new world and a new life with new understanding. A week ago, one hipster had offered to pay him in her blood if he put a cape on, which she had in her bag should a moment like this arise. Vampires had not been officially revealed to the world, but social media had created a chain letter bringing gothic fans out eager for a taste from beyond the grave. She had made Azrael feel like an animal on display at a zoo or in the circus, and though he had put the cape on for her pleasure he had taken his pleasure …over and over and over again leaving her with no recollection of the night other than a headache that would have stayed with her for about a week. Despite the woman’s youth and sweetness, he knew that this Nephilim would taste better than anything he had had in a long time.

  “Azrael!” her voice was a song that floated on the remaining second of sunlight that hit the approaching night with a shattering scream.

  “Good evening Aurora.” He knew it was her without having to lift his eyes, the melodic tone in her voice hadn’t changed in centuries and she still smelled of night-blooming jasmine freshly bathed from a spring rain.

  She stood on a nearby tree branch with the glow of the fading daylight stretched thin over the horizon at her feet. Her red hair blew in the wind, like a glorious raging fire that could still ignite the burning fury in his blood. She was the purity that his soulless body craved, but she was determined to remain out of his reach, even now she cast a glare down at him that could shatter his dead heart, but Azrael refused to be a victim of his unrequited longings. Defying her, Azrael drew a line into Damian’s neck, breaking the thin vulnerable layers of skin and releasing a fresh red drop to taste.

  “I am warning you,” she said with determination, but Azrael licked the blood clean from the man’s neck, savoring the exhilarating taste of Uriel’s blood in his.

  “Your father is a rare type.” Again with the petty jokes, but after centuries of reciting them, it was a difficult habit to break, besides, he got a little bit of a kick out of it.

  “No!” Aurora descended down to the sidewalk where the tourists had fled, leaving the three of them alone.

  “He is mine!” Azrael descended widening his mouth until his upper lip curled over to display his very lethal fangs. “He challenged me in a fair fight, and though his tactics are far from desirable, I deflected him and proved myself the better man.

  “Better man? I would have to challenge that claim for both of you,” Aurora injected, watching the expression on his face soften for only a moment.

  “If you intend to play on feelings that we shared centuries ago, then you have failed. I am not your toy to toss about.” He paused and looked between them. “Was this a conspiracy, a plan to extinguish me at last?”

  Aurora did not move toward him, but he could sense her closer. The bond between them had never truly been severed, despite the blood that divided them. Azrael challenged her stance for the hunter’s protection and leaned down to lift the injured Nephilim up from the ground by the collar of his shirt, bruised and bleeding from a cut at his temple he looked the worse for wear and Azrael saw the perfect chance to test how far she was willing to go to protect this hunter.

  “The sun? You should be dust.” The man looked into the vampire’s eyes to see the reflection of the sun burst brightly in the sky, one last time, before submitting at last to the horizon, giving way to night.

  “Uriel should educate his offspring if he intends for them to follow in the family business. I was not bitten, I was created when I was cast away.” Azrael’s feet parted from the ground, lifting the hunter with him as he levitated a few feet above the dark sidewalk. Damian kicked and struggled to fight against the vampire’s hold, but Azrael was not ready to release him.

  “Do you know who I am? I am death, I am the reaper, I am what comes when the world fades from the eyes of the living.” It was a proclamation of damnation that left Damian’s face drained of color, “And do you know how tempting Nephilim blood is?” Azrael pulled Damian higher, bringing the open wound on his head closer as he slowly licked a trail of blood that was running down the side of his face. It was a rush, the life-force of the man tingled on his tongue and he instantly craved more.

  “Azrael!” Aurora challenged him again, but Azrael refused to be moved by her.

  “Your father was once a friend of mine, a brother in arms so to speak. He would have been wise to have warned you about me.” Azrael’s jaw clicked as he opened his mouth wide, revealing the pair of extended fan
gs, clean, and glowing like ivory in the moonlight, with a lethal point sharpened at both tips. Azrael had no intention of killing the man, but simply weakening him to the point of providing a safe escape… and enjoying a taste in the process.

  “I said leave him be!” Aurora’s voice struck with a powerful impact, taking Azrael by surprise and unaware when she pulled the man from his grip and pushed him by the shoulders, propelling the vampire into the brick facade of a building.

  Dust and debris fell to the sidewalk below him and Azrael shook his head to gain clarity, she had struck with the first blow, therefore he was free from guilt for anything else that transpired. With a blasé air, he brushed dust and bits of broken brick off of one shoulder tilting his head to give her a quizzical look, similar to that of a displeased schoolmaster. Azrael pressed his hands and feet to the wall behind him and paused to see that she had taken her spot once again on the same tree branch. He paced his counterattack catching Aurora off guard when he pushed himself away, launching himself at her, but she made no move to escape him. Standing secure with her eyes locked on him, Aurora paused, waiting for his attack, but at the last moment she stretched her arms out to the side and her magnificent wings unfurled.

  Gasps and awes rose up from the ground as passersby watched the brilliant angel of the dawn fly up into the newly born night sky. The ankle-length white coat fluttered along the long line of her body and her hair billowed in the wind, like a cluster of fiery red clouds around her face. The rising moonlight glistened on her pearl wings and sparkled with every fluid motion that pulled back at her shoulders and extended down to the tips, then downward to lift her up over the earth. Her delicate bare feet were crossed and her toes, with red painted nails, were pointed downward. She was magnificent, and Azrael cursed the everlasting power she had over him.