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    Agent of Light Episode One: Agent of Light, #1
    Agent of Light Episode One: Agent of Light, #1
    Agent of Light Episode One: Agent of Light, #1
    Ebook184 pages2 hours

    Agent of Light Episode One: Agent of Light, #1

    By Odette C. Bell

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    About this ebook

    Agent Mira works for a shadowy agency called (imaginatively) the Agency.

    She forms part of the line of defense between good and bad - between Heaven itself and the fiery depths of Hell. When she's plunged into fights beyond her skills, they push her straight into the arms of the Agency's finest officer, Michael. From the sudden appearance of a childlike angel, to the unwanted attention of the police, Mira won't catch a break. Good – Hell doesn't want her to. It has a plan, and Mira will fulfil it or be bled dry of every drop of her light and life.

    ….

    Agent of Light follows a cutesy agent and a top soldier battling a hellish plot. If you love your fantasies with action, heart, and a splash of romance, grab Agent of Light Episode One today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOdette C. Bell
    Release dateJul 1, 2015
    ISBN9781513007748
    Agent of Light Episode One: Agent of Light, #1

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      Book preview

      Agent of Light Episode One - Odette C. Bell

      Chapter 1

      Rooftops and Rain

      The rain fell from above in a light wave. As Mira made for the pavement, it spattered over her heavy overcoat, which almost dwarfed her diminutive form. The gray sky pressed against the buildings above her as it shed its load. The rain mixed with the dirt that caked the storm drains and gutters, and it permeated the air with a sodden, musty aroma. Mira screwed up her nose as she skipped onto the dry pavement under an awning, her long dark-brown hair sticking against her coat from the rain.

      She stood in front of a large two-story brick building, stained a dark brown from the rain. Big plate-glass windows let a soft orange light onto the street around her. A quick glance through them told Mira there were hardly any patrons at Boothby’s tonight.

      But that was still too many.

      She opened the door gently, but the bell above it still tinkled loudly.

      People looked up and watched her enter. This was just what she needed – witnesses.

      Oh well.

      Mira jammed her wet hands into the lined pockets of her overcoat and let out a little sigh. She never had any luck. Whether it was with games, bets, the weather, or even romance – she could never rely on the Good Lady. And as for her job, well, that was a whole other level of misfortune.

      Have you located the target yet? the voice rang out in her mind. Audible only to her, it spread through her awareness like a soft cloud.

      She nodded then quickly shook her head in thin-lipped exasperation. The voice couldn’t see her, could it? How many years had she been doing this?

      She called up a flicker of concentration with a deep breath and answered with a thought: I just got here. What do you expect, already?

      I expect a little discipline. The voice sighed in her mind. No, that’s not right: I’d hoped for discipline, I expect you to stuff up as usual with your cavalier ineptitude.

      Her bottom lip pushed forward in a pronounced pout. You’re not helping, she almost shouted to the world at large.

      Just get on with it, Agent.

      Well, that was easier said than done. Another cursory glance at the three patrons of this dingy establishment told Mira that any one of them could be her target. Any one of them could be infected with a slimy evil demon of hell.

      She walked toward the large, solid wood counter at the end of the room. Two staircases flanked it on either side, and hidden away in the dark alcoves alongside them were two of her fellow customers. Sheesh, why did dodgy people always make it so hard to eyeball them from afar? At this rate, she would have to sidle right past both of them without letting her search become conspicuous. And that was the really hard bit; demons always knew when you had your eye on them. They’re used to being hunted, after all.

      The other patron, a short man with a countenance like a buoy bobbing in the ocean, sat at a table next to one of the windows. He had a ray of graying hair around his round head, and his nose was buried in the large tabloid he had spread across the table.

      She could start with him, cross him off the list, at least. He looked like middle-aged middle management – probably the owner and operator of a stationery company. Could there be anyone less likely to be possessed by an agent of evil? Perhaps her angelic self, maybe, but stationery manufacturers would come a neat second. Demons would quickly see that their chances of world domination would be trounced if they signed on with the texta dexter over there.

      She took several more steps through the room, picking her way carefully around the tables and chairs, trying to maintain a loose-shouldered nonchalant walk that would put all demons at ease. The bartender looked up and blinked at her slowly. She took the opportunity to beam back with a wide, mega-cute smile, her deep brown eyes twinkling.

      The bartender turned from her and shuffled off with a tall glass of something suitably alcoholic for one of his customers.

      Hmmm, people never appreciated her amazing smiles. He probably had the demon if he wasn’t won over by that winning grin. She quickly flicked her eyes up to closely analyze the figure of the bartender as he carried the glass across the room. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the heavy black aura of the damned.

      The bartender headed for one of the men in the corner.

      Mira dug her bottom teeth into her lip and sniffed softly. This demon was hardly going to catch itself, and if she waited any longer, the damned fiend would get all jittery from late-night caffeine.

      Excuse me! she called out with a cute little wave, I’m looking for someone. Hands innocently tucked into her pockets, she ran up to the bartender and the shadowy-alcove-dwelling customer. And I was wondering if you could help me.

      The bartender slowly placed the steaming glass on the table with a snow-white, knife-like hand and turned to her. His face was equally pale, and the dark circles under his sunken eyes only added to his ghostly appearance. One web-like thin eyebrow was raised.

      She instantly grinned as she tried not to balk. Her neck still receded into her collar, though, and she only widened her grin in an attempt to appear unaffected. Umm, her voice was unusually high, I’m looking for someone, she repeated before she could catch herself.

      The bartender’s lips parted slowly, like mist rising off a gravestone. And?

      Ugh, this guy was creepy! He was way creepier than a low-level demon. Whoever he was, he was definitely into the dark arts. He wasn’t a demon, though – she would know by now – but he wasn’t your average bartender, either.

      She suddenly realized she hadn’t replied and, quickly clasping her hands together in embarrassment, nodded politely. Well, I, ah, there’s this guy. Her cheeks began to flush with a warm shipment of blood, and she realized she was falling apart. Things always went pear-shaped when she had to improvise. Annnnnd, well, he said he’d meet me here… her voice trailed into a thin whisper.

      The ghostly bartender blinked. I see.

      Really? Because I’m having trouble following you, Angel. If this is how you handle the staff, I can’t wait to see your style with a demonic agent of Hell. The voice in her head rang out with a clear and quick tone.

      She almost bit through her lip. Her Controller always had it in for her.

      Who are you looking for? the bartender prompted, his sunken eyes appearing to recede further into his sallow face.

      She let her eyes drift to the man behind the bartender. He was why she was here; she had to check if he was really a red-eyed master of death. A closer look revealed nothing but a set of broad shoulders, a rigid, chiseled face, and dark, swarthy features. He looked more like a stiff-lipped gym teacher than Lucifer.

      Ahh, she stalled for time, Bob? her voice uncontrollably peaked on Bob like it was a question. Bob, she quickly repeated with more confidence.

      The bartender licked his lips with a whip-like dark-red tongue. I do not know a Bob.

      Just as the words left his mouth, a figure darted across the base of the stairs. It must have wandered down to catch a glimpse of them. Out of the corner of her eyes, she’d seen it, seen as it had popped its extended, grayed head around the door, its long-boned hand on the wall. One red-rimmed eye had stared at her, unblinkingly.

      Bingo. This must be one of those stupid demons, hallelujah.

      Ah, that’s okay! You know, I think Bob might be upstairs! She pushed herself quickly, but gracefully, toward the stairs. Bob! She threw herself up them. Bob, what are you doing up there?

      So much for keeping this quiet, I knew I should have chosen a better Agent.

      She ignored the voice, applying all her concentration to the dark stairway before her.

      Above her, something grated as a heavy object shifted its weight.

      She reached the top of the stairs and quickly pitched into a dive roll. She didn’t even bother to check for danger. There was only one thing she needed to know: the room was totally dark.

      She curled her back against the uneven wood before lithely jumping to her feet with a thud. Twisting her neck from side to side, she desperately listened for the sound of Bob the demon. Heavy breathing, shuffling feet, maybe the unfurling of black wings. There was nothing, though.

      When her eyes had adjusted to the gloom with inhuman speed, she noticed a long window was open at the end of the room. It let in the smell of rain and a ray of dim light.

      Bob! God bless you, Bob! She took pleasure in the curse; nothing irks a demon like a good old divine blessing.

      A heavy, high-pitched grunt cut through the open window.

      Winking to no one in particular, Mira sped toward it. With deft moves, she avoided the stacked chairs and tables that littered her way.

      She leaped at the open window before she ascertained what lay beyond. She sailed through the cold air then landed on the steep roof. Scrabbling against the wet tiles, she slid downwards like a puck across ice.

      Ah, ah ahhhh! She desperately tried to pull herself upright and fight the downward pressure of gravity on lubricated roofing.

      Finally gaining traction, she dug both feet into the slate and pushed backward, instantly flattening herself against the roof, fingers scrabbling and toes clenching.

      Errrrgh. She was barely centimeters from the gutter and the unpleasant 15-meter plunge to the dirty city street below. Was that lucky, or what?

      There was a swoosh as something unfurled behind her, blowing a cold gust of air and rain against her back.

      Ohh… not so lucky, then. Still pressing her body into the hard tiles, she twisted her head. In the gap between her building and the next, floated the demon. Stretched thin like a sheet of plastic wrap, and unfathomably dark like a black hole, it snapped its contorted head toward her.

      You dare hunt me, human? Me? Lord of the dead, king of the underworld, of the putrefying flesh of your brethren? Bringer of pain….

      Mira rolled her eyes and took a deep, reverberating sigh. If you let ‘em, demons would talk your ear off, in more ways than one. Sorry to interrupt, she carefully pushed herself up, but the Agency isn’t pleased with you, mister.

      The demon let out a shriek, clawing at its face with a hand twisted and bent like a misshapen rake. Agent?

      She nodded. And secondly, she reached into her pocket, you’re not the king of anything. Demons hated it when you brought them back to Earth. You’re just a lowly little foot soldier.

      The demon shrieked again, this time with a terrible high-pitched whir. You lie! You will never encounter a greater—

      Mira leaped forward. Her hand whipped out from her pocket and brandished something before her. It was a palm-sized medallion on a heavy chain. Go to Hell! She hurled the pendant at the demon. It arced above the creature, and as it reached its zenith, Mira shouted: Seal!

      A blazing, engulfing light cascaded around the demon, trapping it between its luminous rays. The demon shrieked once more, but the shriek was distant and soon cut out altogether. The rays shot back toward the pendant, which lay suspended in mid-air, and soon the light it cast receded into a dim pulse, then nothing at all.

      Phew, that went better than expected. Mira smiled and gave several little claps of appreciation for her own clever self. Now I can go home and watch TV!

      The pendant slowly fluttered toward her as if on the wings of an angel. She snapped a hand toward it and grabbed it, stuffing it back into her pocket in a quick move.

      She hesitated on the edge of the roof, not sure whether to take the long or short way down. She quickly decided that seeing the ghoulish bartender wasn’t something she wanted to do before bed, and she made for the edge of the roof.

      In several quick and calculated moves, she disappeared.

      …

      A cigarette landed on the roof and slid down to the point where Mira had been standing moments before. Its red glow flickered and extinguished against the wet slate.

      Well, a voice said from the open window. I’ve never seen that before.

      …

      Mira threw out a hand and managed to catch the edge of the bowl. She pulled it toward her with a caveman grunt, crisps spilling across her reclined body and cascading over the edge of the couch.

      What did you have to go and do that for? She scooped up a crisp and flicked it into her mouth. Now, I’m going to have to pick you all up.

      She made several attempts at corralling the loose crisps without actually moving but soon gave up. Be that way, then. With a sharp wave, she dismissed the crumbly mess to some future cleaning frenzy.

      She lolled her head back in the direction of the TV and grinned. Just what she needed – a good movie. Not just any movie, though – a Brent Double, perhaps the finest looking man since the gods’ invented muscles and cheekbones. She beamed at the screen and stopped short of offering a thumbs up.

      The phone rang just as the opening music faded to a frantic car chase full of screaming tires and

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