Dark Kings Read online

  Dark Kings

  Feathers and Fate #1

  Sadie Moss

  Copyright © 2020 by Sadie Moss

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Contents

  1. Trinity

  2. Trinity

  3. Trinity

  4. Trinity

  5. Trinity

  6. Trinity

  7. Trinity

  8. Beckett

  9. Trinity

  10. Trinity

  11. Trinity

  12. Trinity

  13. Trinity

  14. Remington

  15. Trinity

  16. Ford

  17. Trinity

  18. Trinity

  19. Trinity

  20. Beckett

  21. Trinity

  22. Trinity

  23. Trinity

  24. Remington

  25. Trinity

  26. Ford

  27. Trinity

  28. Phoenix

  29. Trinity

  30. Trinity

  Also by Sadie Moss

  Chapter One

  Trinity

  There’s an itch on my back, right between my shoulder blades.

  It’s driving. Me. Crazy.

  No matter which way I bend my arm, I can’t quite reach it, and I don’t understand why my body would itch in a spot where it knows I’ll never be able to scratch it. What’s the point of that?

  Gah! There are so many little things about being human that nobody ever thinks to tell you when they’re preparing you for, well, being human.

  I don’t understand how regular humans can do it. I mean, they’re just born into this world without an instruction manual or any kind of preparation at all. Crazy, right? I think it’s very resilient of them. I got an instruction manual, and I’m still terrified half the time.

  You’ll get used to it.

  That’s what they always tell me in my fallen angel support group. I go to meetings every month. Not because I want to, exactly, but because I’m pretty sure Upstairs keeps an eye on us that way, and I bet I’d somehow be in even more trouble if I didn’t attend. The other fallen are nice though—the ones who attend. I’m sure there are a lot who just hide away on Earth and try to forget the rest of us even exist.

  A lot of them are bitter.

  Me? I’m not bitter, I’m just… I just don’t understand.

  “Are you still listening to me, you fucking bitch?”

  “Oh, uh… yes, sir.” I shake my head as the customer on the hotline shouts at me again. You might think that’s the worst thing he’s called me in his long-winded tirade over the past few minutes, but you’d be wrong.

  Very wrong.

  Apparently, rage really fosters creativity in some people.

  “I’m very sorry to hear that you’re unhappy with your cable service, but unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do,” I say, repeating the words my manager made us all memorize by rote. “You signed a two-year contract with Wondercom, and we don’t allow early termination.”

  “That’s a load of fucking horse shit! If I’d known I was signing away my goddamn soul, I would’ve—”

  The guy on the phone launches into another diatribe, and I sigh, making sure to keep it soft enough that he can’t hear me. I could tell him a thing or two about signing away one’s soul, but I’m not allowed to talk to humans at all about Downstairs, Upstairs, or anything supernatural.

  I’m supposed to be living as one of them, after all. That’s my punishment.

  As the angry voice fills my ear, I scoot down in my seat, trying to use the back of my chair to scratch that annoying spot between my shoulder blades. But I still can’t reach it.

  Argh! Nobody warned me that humans got itchy! Or that my lips would get chapped in the cold. Or that—

  Focus, Trinity, focus.

  My manager, Dave Harding, is making the rounds on this floor, peering into cubicles with a skeptical look on his face, and I know he’s not gonna be happy if he comes over here and sees that I’ve been on the phone with the same customer for almost twenty minutes. When people try to call and cancel, we’re supposed to get them off the line as quickly as possible.

  “I’m very sorry, sir,” I say quickly as Dave glances my way. “But as I said, there’s nothing I can do. You’ve still got eighteen months on your contract and—”

  “I need the money.”

  The voice in my ear shifts abruptly, going from angry to quiet in the space of a breath. There’s something about the man’s tone that makes me sit up a little straighter, my brows furrowing.

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  “The money. The money I’m sending you every month. I need it. My daughter is sick, and I’m… fuck, I’m out of work on disability, and we can’t make ends meet anymore. I’m canceling every damn thing I can, just trying to save a little. There’s nothing wrong with your service, it’s just—I need the money for something more important.”

  Ah, boogers.

  He could be lying. He could’ve just switched tactics and is trying a new strategy to get what he wants.

  But the heaviness and exhaustion in his voice tell me he’s not. And even if he is, even if he’s that good of an actor, I’d rather be wrong about this than screw over some poor guy who’s just trying to help his kid.

  I hunch over my desk, discreetly peeking up from under my lashes to make sure Dave isn’t anywhere nearby. Thankfully, he’s busy flirting with one of the new hires over in the far corner of the large, open office.

  “Okay, sir,” I say quietly, “I’m going to help you. Just don’t tell anyone I did, all right? There is a way out of your contract.”

  Keeping my voice low, I lay out the steps he can take to void his contract with the company. It’s a loophole in their contract that they’re legally not allowed to close, so instead, they just bury it—making it pretty much impossible for the average person to find it.

  The man doesn’t speak at all as I talk him through the steps, and when I finish, there’s a moment of silence before he says, “Thank you. I’m… I’m sorry about all those things I called you. I didn’t mean it.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry about your daughter. Is she going to be all right?”

  “I hope so.”

  There’s a raw quality to his voice that makes my heart ache for him. I wish I could do more to help him than just freeing up a little extra cash flow for him and his family. But at least I did something.

  “What’s your name again?” the guy asks. I told him when I first picked up the call, but that was twenty minutes-worth of yelling ago, so I’m not surprised he’s forgotten it.

  “Trinity.” I glance up again to check for Dave, but I don’t see him flirting with the new girl anymore. Whew. Maybe he wandered back into his office to play video games. “But most people call me Trin.”

  “Well, Trin. Thank you.” I can hear the warmth in the man’s voice, and I wonder how long it’s been since someone was nice to him. Since someone just cut him a little much-needed slack. “I wish I could leave you a great performance review, but… I’m guessing that wouldn’t really help.”

  I lau
gh quietly. “No, not really. That’s okay though. Just don’t tell anyone what I did. And take care of your kiddo.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  The line goes quiet, and I pull off my headset, resting it on the little desk in my cubicle. Despite the fact that I just spent close to half an hour getting yelled at, I feel great. I feel amazing. Helping people is the best feeling in the world, and even though I can’t do it nearly as well from Earth as I did from Upstairs, I still get a little charge every time I do.

  And what do you know? My itch is gone!

  Fluffing out my curly dark hair, I lean back in my chair to make sure no one in the cubicles nearby heard me. I don’t want one of them to tattle on me.

  “Have a nice little chat, Trinity?”

  “Ahh!”

  I almost fall backward off the rickety office chair as I look up to see Dave standing right behind me.

  Oh, crap!

  That’s where he went—not back to his office at all. Which probably means he just heard my entire conversation.

  “Uh…”

  Okay, I’m not great at covering my butt when I get in trouble. That may have something to do with why I haven’t been able to keep a job for longer than six months in the past thirty years.

  “You know, Trin,” Dave drawls, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s a skinny, ferret-faced little man who carries himself as if he’s a six-foot-tall bodybuilder. “I was going over a recent influx of early cancellations we’ve had, and to my great surprise, it turned out that all of those early cancellations had spoken to the exact same customer service rep when they called. Any guesses who that was?”

  “Uh…”

  I’m not dumb, I swear. I’m just not big on lying, so there’s not a lot I can say here besides giving a full confession. And that won’t help my case.

  But what was I supposed to do? Just stand by helplessly as that poor man was taken advantage of by this company? Should I just stay silent and follow the rules no matter what?

  That’s what Upstairs wanted me to do. And it’s exactly what I didn’t do. Which is why I’ve been banished to Earth for the past thirty years.

  And also why I’m about to get fired.

  Chapter Two

  Trinity

  Yup. I’m totally about to get the boot.

  I can see it in Dave’s expression—the too-eager gleam in his eyes and nasty curve of his lips. But I don’t really feel like getting yelled at for the second time in less than an hour, especially when there’ll be no chance of turning this interaction into a positive one like I did with the guy on the phone. Nope, Dave just wants to throw his weight around a little to make himself feel better about being the manager of such a crappy company.

  So before he can get a word out, I stand up and smile at him.

  “I am, of course, fired,” I say in my perkiest voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll see myself out.”

  With a broad smile, I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder, then spin on my heel and make my way down the row of cubicles toward the exit. The room’s gone a little quiet as everybody realizes someone just got the axe, and I see heads popping up like little groundhogs as I do my walk of shame.

  I wish there was someone that would stand up and walk out dramatically with me like Renée Zellweger did with Tom Cruise in Jerry Maguire, but the truth is, I don’t really have any friends here.

  I’ve always tried not to talk a lot around my coworkers, just in case I let something slip that’s a little too weird and they get suspicious. Humans don’t know about angels or the corrupted. They don’t know about werewolves or vampires or any of the other creatures that walk among them either. Personally, I think it would be only fair for them to know, but I suppose the saying ignorance is bliss is a saying for a reason, and besides, I’d get locked up in a loony bin if I ran around telling humans that centaurs are real.

  They are. And they are not friendly.

  When I reach the door, I consider turning around and making some big exit speech about how I shouldn’t be punished for doing what was right even if it was against the rules, but then decide against it. I gave speeches like that the first few times I got fired from various jobs, but I’ve come to realize that nobody really wants to hear it.

  Not my managers here on Earth.

  And not my angel higher-ups Above.

  I tug the door handle and slip out into the dreary hallway of the massive office building.

  Well, guess the job hunt begins again tomorrow.

  It’s been like this for most of my time on Earth. Now that I’m fallen, I need a job to pay the bills. Yuuup, I have bills. That was in the instruction manual too. I really hate bills. And having to eat. Well, eating is actually great, but needing to eat because I feel hungry is less fun.

  The Seattle streets are gray and dreary as I make my way back to my little apartment. It was almost five o’clock when I ended that last call, so it’s not like I even got an unexpected day off out of all this.

  When I reach my apartment, I hurry inside and immediately change out of my work clothes into my soft flannel pajama pants and oversized sleep shirt.

  Humans are crazy, I’ve discovered. Truly crazy. But there’s a method to the madness, as Shakespeare would say, and humanity definitely got the whole “creature comforts” thing spot on.

  The shirt is made to imitate Captain Kirk’s Star Trek uniform, with the Starfleet insignia pin designed onto it. “I am the captain now,” I say to myself in the mirror in a horrible attempt at an accent. I can’t do accents. My human body is a black girl with an American accent, and that’s just how I’m gonna stay. I tried to sound Russian once, and I was told I sounded like a drunk moose.

  Anyway, this is my Captain Kirk sleep shirt, and I love it.

  Feeling marginally better already, I step over to the tall bookshelf that rests against one wall and peruse my movie collection.

  I like to own DVDs. I actually still have all the VHS tapes I got when I first fell, even though nobody uses those anymore. It’s a nostalgia thing. I joke that I’m Mike Hanlon, even though nobody gets that joke. Well, the other fallen in my support group don’t. They don’t really indulge in pop culture like I do. I think they want to just coast through their banishment, ignoring everything around them.

  But I want to hold on and remember. Humans have such fleeting lives. They grow old and wither so quickly, but they also burn so bright.

  Not like me. Every morning when I look in the mirror, I see the exact same face I’ve seen for thirty years. Nothing’s changed. Same dark skin without wrinkles, without scars. Same big dark eyes, no crow’s feet or dullness. Same halo of curly hair, all dark as well, not a single silver strand in the lot. My hands don’t wither. My back doesn’t bend. My shoulders don’t grow stiff.

  I’ve been here for thirty years. I look like I’ve only been alive for twenty-four.

  No matter how many more years I live on Earth, I won’t age a day physically. I lost a lot of powers when I lost my wings, but that particular side effect of my angelic nature has stuck with me.

  Since I’ve had a rough day, I need a pick-me-up, so for tonight’s entertainment, I pick The Matrix.

  Oh, man, I love this movie. When it came out in theaters, I watched it about a dozen times—and if that makes me a nerd, so be it. I just love the idea of rebelling against the system and choosing a life that’s less perfect, less “happy,” because it’s real. It’s genuine.

  And, well, the name of the heroine is Trinity. I mean, come on! Clearly, I was meant to love this film. My namesake in this movie is so tough and cool; I wish I could be like that.

  Contrary to what many people believe, angels are not these wholly benevolent beings who sit around stringing a harp, but we’re not all avenging terrifying warriors either. I’m not anyway. I actually worked in administration the whole time I was Upstairs.

  I sure do wish I could kick ass though. Ooh, I should probably enroll in some kind of self-defense class or take up martial arts!


  Ordering Chinese food and curling up with a movie is probably not what I should be doing, but it’s all I really feel up to at the moment. And besides, the parameters of what I should and shouldn’t do have gotten a lot blurrier since I fell. I appealed my banishment, and I’ve been told my case is under consideration, but I don’t receive daily instructions on how to improve myself to earn my way back Upstairs.

  I wish I did. I want to go home more than anything. Not that there’s anything wrong with Earth. I like a lot of things about Earth—Chinese food and movies being two prime examples. But it’s not home.

  I miss having a home.

  The food arrives forty minutes later, and I curl up on the couch to start the movie. Even though I’ve seen this film dozens of times, I still find myself leaning forward on the couch, a dumpling poised halfway to my mouth as I bite my lower lip.

  On-screen, the woman dressed in black crashes through a window, landing on her back and drawing her weapons in a flash.

  “Get up, Trinity. Get up.” I say the words along with her, my heart racing and my gaze riveted to the screen.

  “You know she can’t actually hear you.”

  The masculine voice comes from my right, and I yelp in shock, jumping about a foot in the air. The dumpling flies off my fork, slipping through my scrabbling hands and landing on the floor.

  I’m not alone in my apartment anymore.