Angels of War (Angels of War Trilogy Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

blessed by God, shown bright in her grasp. The gladius became a beacon and filled the room with its silver light to declare her presence to a world far from ready for such a war.

7

    L.A.P.D. Officer Daisy Lane sat in her patrol car in the downtown Los Angeles business district. With impatience, she glanced at her digital Casio. The electronic numbers read four in the morning. Time crawled for her.
    Daisy changed uniforms in the past two hours, and switched cruisers due to the same awful funk stuck inside her nostrils. Irritated, the six-foot tall, corn-haired woman stepped from the black and white police cruiser, closed her eyes, and inhaled deep. The stench strengthened. Anger mixed with annoyance filled her.  
    She opened her eyes and spotted the doughnut shop across the street, its bright lights glared against the fresh morning darkness. Strong black coffee and fried dough played in her mind.  
    Daisy Lane tried to place the bothersome odor. She arrested one homeless man earlier in the evening. He stole cheap beer to get out from the cold and spend a night in jail. The foul stink overpowered the stench his unwashed body gave off.  
    Daisy locked her cruiser and hurried across the street. A short round man stood behind the counter dressed in greasy cook whites. He glanced up from his work and gave her a broad gap toothed smile. Morning traffic hissed over the 110 freeway. Soon the traffic would drag to a stop.  
    She stepped inside the shop and took a seat on a black swivel chair at the counter. Her booted toes pressed against the footrest.
    “Morning,” the old red-faced man said. “Same as usual, Lane?”
    “Morning, Pete, the same. Black coffee and an apple fritter.”  
    She swiped a napkin from a loose stack, gave her nose a delicate blow, and opened the tissue to check what she blew out against the white paper. Surprised, she stared at the clean napkin. She balled the napkin and tossed the used paper in the trash behind her.  
    For the past three hours, the foul odor hung in her nostrils. The repugnant stench started innocent enough when she changed her two-month-old nephew’s diapers. The stink stayed after the diaper change and followed her like an old stray dog.
    Throughout her shift the stench grew stronger by tiny increments. Next she assumed a rookie forgot to clean the sweat, piss, and slobber from a drunk off the cruiser’s rear seat. Earlier in her shift, she took the cruiser down to the pit and cleaned out the back seat. She sprayed down the thick plastic rear seat with Simple Green. Once she sat back in, eager to experience the forest pine scent, the horrible odor remained. She checked her breath, sniffed her armpits, went to the locker room and took a shower, and changed uniforms. Still the noisome odor spooked her.  
    Daisy managed to smile as Pete poured the black coffee into a red mug. He slid the hot apple fritter on a white plate next to the coffee. A sudden new aroma emerged. Rotten eggs. Her heart leaped. She leaned forward to breathe in the fritter’s succulent scent.
    “Sumthin’ wrong, Lane?”
    Daisy lifted her eyes from the apple fritter. The heat warmed her face, her eyes watered and her nose tingled. “No, Pete, I love your fritters.” Pete nodded and walked back to the kitchen. Daisy followed him with her huge green eyes.  
    She coughed and a sour bitterness tickled her throat. She gagged and slapped a hand over her mouth and bolted to the bathroom.  
    Once inside the bathroom she doubled over the toilet and vomited her tri-tip and potatoes dinner. Her stomach heaved again, and for a second, an otherness came over her. Her vision doubled. A random thought popped into her mind, she must be pregnant.  
    Daisy stood and turned away from the cold toilet bowl, snatched a rough paper towel from the dispenser and cleaned her mouth. With shaky hands, she turned on the water spigot and splashed cold water over her face, scooped some into her mouth and gargled. She spat and