The Fallen 3 Read Online Free PDF Page B

lived, trapped inside Lucifer, a constant, gnawing reminder of the danger of his ignorance, desperately needing to be kept under control.
    Verchiel, in his insane zeal to see the Nephilim destroyed, had captured Lucifer Morningstar and had opened him up in an attempt to unleash the Hell that was inside him.
    Lucifer could not help but think that exposing the world to his inner Hell, even for a brief amount of time, had hastenedthe emergence of the things of nightmare that had been patiently waiting for their time.
    All life on the planet would have been brought to an end if not for a Nephilim whose coming was foretold in an ancient angelic prophecy. The prophecy spoke of one who would bring the Allfather’s forgiveness to the fallen angels that had sided with the Morningstar.
    Aaron Corbet was the Nephilim of prophecy.
    And Lucifer’s son.
    The Morningstar smiled proudly at the thought. After being responsible for so much ill, it gave him hope to know that he had brought life to someone who was destined to do so much good.
    Perhaps someday he would even be forgiven, although he was certain that day was still a long time away.
    Lucifer felt something stir in the pocket of his sweatshirt, and looked down to see the tiny pointed snout of a mouse emerge to sniff and twitch at the air.
    “Nice day, isn’t it?” Lucifer commented to the creature that had been far more than a pet to him this last year or so. He’d named his tiny companion Milton, and although the little rodent seemed to like the name, Lucifer doubted he understood its literary connotations.
    “Going?”
Milton squeaked.
    “Yes, we’re going,” Lucifer answered, placing his hand in his pocket, allowing the mouse to scramble up his arm andperch upon his shoulder. “I just was enjoying a moment of quiet before the inevitable.”
    “Death,”
said Milton.
    Lucifer sighed, reaching up to stroke his tiny friend’s head. Maybe he understood the significance of his name after all.
    “There is always that, isn’t there?” the Morningstar said sadly. “Even when we wish there wasn’t.”
    Lorelei felt as though she were dying.
    She splashed cold water from the sink on her face, and looked up at her reflection in the old mirror.
    Were those dark circles under my eyes last week? When did my hair start to look so dry and brittle?
She stared hard at herself, adding these latest concerns to the mental list of aches and pains she’d been experiencing since volunteering to help Aaron and the others with their new lives.
    Since beginning to use Archon magick every day.
    Lorelei was only twenty, but these days she felt much, much older. It was the effects of the ancient angel magick. Yes, she was Nephilim, but even her angel half wasn’t enough to protect her from the corrosive rigors of the magicks developed and wielded by the angelic sorcerers, Archons.
    If she were human, she would have died long before.
    Aaron and the others had hinted that maybe she should slow down, to take it easy on the Archon spells, but there was just too much to do—too much for them to accomplish—andif they were to succeed, the use of the powerful angel magick was required.
    She dried her face on a towel and left the bathroom, padding down the hallway of the abandoned school that had become the sanctuary for their small band of Nephilim.
    She’d already been outside for her daily walk around the property to be certain that the magickal wards she had laid were still intact, keeping their presence secret from prying eyes, be they human or inhuman.
    The Nephilim had needed somewhere new to rest and regroup after their battle with Verchiel and the Powers. This abandoned school complex in the middle of the Berkshires had offered the perfect place. Its remote location, and the magickal wards she provided, made certain that they were safe from nosy small-town officials as well as supernatural forces.
    The magick that hid them was holding, as were they, even as the forces of darkness seemed