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    The Color of War
    The Color of War
    The Color of War
    Ebook102 pages55 minutes

    The Color of War

    By Jen Katemi

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    About this ebook

    How in all the heavens does the angel of War begin to broker peace on earth?

     

    The color red is all I see. The color of rage. The color of blood when an innocent life drains away into the hot dry earth. Why does our goddess Danu want to save these humans when all they strive for is power and greed, and all they manage is destruction? What makes the human world worth saving?

     

    When I meet Molly, it is as if a kaleidoscope of color bursts into my vision. The barmaid is everything I never knew a human woman could be – kind, brave and selfless. How can I refuse to step up and protect her and her young sister Cara?

     

    As Lord Branagan, angel of War, I am invincible and the color red is everything that I am. But Molly only knows me as Finn. Here in the human world, as Finn Barden, I might have to risk everything—even my supposedly immortal life—to prove to us both that there is more than one color in the rainbow.

     

    Molly makes the human world worth saving…but at what cost? Can I save her from the very thing I incite in humankind? Can I save her...from me?

     

    This steamy paranormal fantasy romance includes fated mates and a fallen demigod in a contemporary setting. It was previously published in the multi-author box set, Disgraced Lords of the Immortal. The story is very loosely based on a mix of mythologies, including the goddess Danu, as well as the four horsemen.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherFlourish Books
    Release dateDec 3, 2020
    ISBN9781393806141
    The Color of War
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      Book preview

      The Color of War - Jen Katemi

      The Color of War

      by

      USA Today bestselling author

      Jen Katemi

      The Color of War © Copyright 2020 Jen Katemi

      All rights reserved

      Published by Flourish Books

      Edited by Rainy Kaye

      Cover design by Charmaine Ross

      This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places and events portrayed in this work are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever in any country whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

      Table of Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Banshee Cry – Chapter One

      About the Author

      Chapter One

      Branagan, Angel of War

      IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN an easy job—a quick trip to Earth to bring an end to a decade-long feud in Mexico. Two rival cartel families whose petty jealousies and spats had escalated into an all-out war in which countless bodies had been felled, and buried, and replaced by yet more humans who fell again. Dead; so many dead. All because of two greedy men whose reach was now global in the mortal realm, and whose need for power outweighed reason or common sense, or anything remotely resembling what humanity was supposed to be about.

      The image of the young girl’s body rises in my mind, as it does all the time now. Her lifeless limbs had been flung akimbo and her pale features drained of blood as the bullet that tore apart her flesh and split open her liver allowed her blood to leach out onto the road. The pool of red grew around her, as red as the brightest and most magnificent ruby in Danu’s collection, and there was nothing I could do, but watch as the innocent child’s life force flowed out of her and soaked into the dirt under the hot, Mexican sun.

      An innocent casualty of war, as so many innocent victims have come before her and so many more will fall in the future. But this one was worse. This one...too late.

      My fault. And theirs.

      Rage fills my chest, constricting my breathing.

      The greedy human pigs.

      Damn them.

      Damn them all to hell.

      I raise my glass and down the contents in one quick gulp.

      Alcohol in Amaru Elora has less effect than in the human world, but the taste is divine. Quite literally. My goddess always ensures that everything in the immortal realm is pure ambrosia for myself and my angel kin. Our hearts are heavy, and our goddess knows it. She ensures we want for nothing, bar the one thing we truly desire.

      Let us loose, Goddess Danu. I plead on behalf of us all. Several of my brothers stand at my side as we face our goddess in a united front. Let us loose in the mortal world. Humans are done. There is nothing left of humanity, as far as I can see whenever I spend time there. Let us loose, and the stupid and the evil will be destroyed in a cleansing the like of which has never before been seen in the history of their world.

      It is an old argument, and one on which Danu has never shifted her stance, no matter how often we raise it. "You are the angel of War, Branagan. If I let you loose on Earth in this day and age—either you alone, or you with your brothers riding alongside you—there will be nothing left of the human world to save."

      Is that such a bad thing? One of my brothers presses the point. We know we are angering our beloved goddess, but all of us seem unable to stop goading her. Look at them, Goddess. Why do you care so much?

      As always when this topic arises, Danu’s cheeks flush and stubborn resistance settles across her features. How dare you question me? I am your Goddess.

      The argument rages on and on, endlessly back and forth, until it feels as if the pressure inside me is about to blow. My brothers feel the same. I can tell by the stiff way they hold themselves, and the tension in their every move and gesture that is evident despite the joyous Fire Festival celebration proceeding all around us.

      The festival in Amaru Elora is a time to rejoice. Fire is life, and heat and passion. Not death and destruction, and yet that seems to be all I can focus on, tonight.

      Send us to Earth, Danu. Let us do our job.

      Branagan/Finn

      ONE MOMENT I AM DRINKING at the Fire Festival and arguing with my goddess, and the next I’m blinking and staring around in confusion in a completely different locale. Where in the heavens am I? This is not Amaru Elora. The fetid smell of unwashed human and stale alcohol turns my stomach. The thrum of loud music vibrates through my brain.

      Am I...is this Earth? I don’t remember journeying here. I remember...

      The argument. Danu’s hurt and anger. Her promise to teach her angel keepers a lesson.

      Did she send me to Earth as punishment for challenging her decision? Are my brothers here, also? No. I would know if the angels had been fully let loose.

      A headache forms behind my eyes. Why do I not remember the journey between realms?

      I raise my hand to rub my eyes and realize I’m clutching a drink. I automatically carry it to my lips and swallow, then cough and splutter as the amber fluid burns all the way down my throat. What the goddess have I just swallowed? That is definitely not the ambrosia of my homeland.

      I snag the arm of a drinker on the next bar stool, who turns and stares at me, bleary-eyed.

      Where am I? What is this place?

      For a moment hope rises and I wonder if Danu has sent me back to Mexico for the chance to make amends.

      Where? I shake the man’s arm, forcing a response.

      How can you not know where you are, old man? You should probably slow down on the drinks.

      Old man? I quickly turn and study myself in the mirrored wall behind the bar, relieved to see Danu has not changed my looks too much, at least. Longish dark hair, silver-gray eyes, and a solid build are my preferred physical manifestation in the mortal realm. Not so old, then, though staring around, the average age of the people here appears to be quite a bit lower than my thirty-five-year-young mortal body. Thirty-five here, perhaps, but countless years old back in Amaru Elora.

      It’s the Delta Club, man. My drinking companion finally answers the original question. Hottest chicks in Melbourne, don’t cha think?

      Melbourne. Australia? What the actual fuck? Why has Danu sent me here for my lesson? Why not back to Tijuana, where I might have at least a slim chance to right recent wrongs. Why, Danu? The goddess always has her reasons, but for the life of me I cannot discern what they might be this time.

      The guy on the barstool seems to be waiting for a response, so I shrug. Hot chicks. If you say so.

      I try hard not to roll my eyes as I speak, and swivel away to look for the nearest bar attendant.

      A young woman finishes polishing a glass and turns toward me. Can I help you, sir?

      Hot chicks? No, this woman is not hot. She is bare of makeup, her long dark hair swept up in a ponytail that has started to come loose from its binding. Small tendrils of hair stick out in all directions. Her white tee-shirt sporting the bar’s logo across her chest is tight, and it highlights that she is less well-endowed than many in her line of work. She looks tired and slightly sweaty. Clearly, she’s had a hard night behind the bar.

      And yet, there is something about the woman that catches and holds my attention despite her ordinary appearance. An air of innocence, perhaps, coupled with a strange

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