Free Angels of War (Angels of War Trilogy Book 1) by Andre Roberts Page A

guardians. A powerful sulfurous stench exploded from the ground along with yellow smoke. Those who waited too late to flee the cathedral suffocated from the fumes.  
    Thick blood clotted the victim’s throats as their lungs filled with the poisonous gas. Their bodies sprawled on the ground and convulsed until they died.
    Hell’s Cathedral measured a mile in diameter, a complete, perfect circle. The pentagram overlooked the city like an evil eye. From a distance, Hell’s Cathedral resembled a wedding cake from Hell. The Screamers drifted upwards to surround the pentagram. The horrors turned outwards to face the city.  
    Wrath, still afloat, drove his weapon into the lethal air above his head. His fingers closed along the hilt made from tiny skulls and wrapped in red cloth. He surveyed the city once more. “Tell your leaders he approaches. Supplicate before the one who will save your souls at this awful time.”  

15

    The Army, Marines, Navy, and Air Force fell under one command. General Gerald Black, the Chief of Staff. He ordered a full engagement. Marine units from Camp Pendleton flew in on Chinook helicopters to start their Los Angeles ground assault. Air Force fighter jets screamed toward the embattled city to conduct their air attacks.  
    Colonel Cecil Bryer led his F-22 Raptor squadrons into battle. The news he received came in hectic pieces. From what he gathered, Los Angeles fell under attack. The city sat a few minutes flight for him and his squadron who flew from Edwards Air Force Base. Their orders: attack the enemy invaders, refuel, and return to support the Marines ordered in to clean up any resistance. He forced himself to remain calm as more information about the attack came down from high command.  
    Cecil became confused at the news his ears picked up over the helmet headset he wore. He wondered if China found a way to attack the United States.  
    Colonel Bryer pulled back on the F-22’s control stick. The turbines pushed the fighter ahead. The powerful machine rumbled underneath him. The colonel guided his million-dollar fighter across the bright sky as other squadrons trailed behind. He checked his instrument panel, flicked his eyes at the unnatural dark skies a few miles ahead.  
    Cecil sucked in a breath. F-22s speckled against the gray sky in the hundreds. The scene quickened his heart as the fighter jets roared towards Los Angeles. He lifted his eyes from the heads up display and gazed at the black clouds. A shiver ran over his body, the clouds seemed alive. The smoke breathed, and each swell quickened the closer the jets neared Los Angeles.  

    Wrath pointed his sword at the bleak sky. His keen vision caught the silver fighter jets racing ahead. He called his stallion forward, mounted the beast, and issued a war cry. The shout from his voice vaporized the battered windows within the city.  
    Thick chains rattled after Wrath’s call to arms. The cathedral’s wooden drawbridge cracked open and fell with an echoing boom to reveal a closed iron gate. The wrought iron gate lifted upwards. From the cathedral’s dark innards came rhythmic chants as if fans at a football game pumped themselves up for the championship team’s arrival. Within seconds, masked horsemen dressed in black Roman armor rode from the cathedral opened gate in the thousands.  
    The cavalry thundered over the drawbridge and massed together behind Wrath. Red foam frothed at their black horse’s maws. Their Hell born masters fought to control their four legged charges. Wrath lifted his sword. The cavalry from Hell swarmed into the skies to meet the Air Force attack head on.

    Colonel Bryer strained his eyes against the shattered Los Angeles skyline. He spotted the huge pale cathedral. He glanced down at his radar, asked his squadron leaders to recheck their radar. Everyone turned up negative bogies on their screens. His heart hammered hard in his chest. His orders seemed simple, repel the invasion and come home. Someone