A Demon's Nightmare


5.00 · 1 ratings · Published: Aug 18th, 2014 {{ book.ratingTitle }}
Landon Marshall was harder than ironwood and sharper than Damascus steel. That might be why God came to him for help.

...To top it off, the guy was an Angel; he’d proved it last night. Landon hadn’t been drunk, he’d seen it with his own eyes. The man was a true, sent from heaven Angel.
“So, what are your plans?” Landon asked, pouring himself a cup of black coffee and letting out a sigh of contentment with that first rush of caffeine.

“Plans?” Michael said, his eyebrows scrunching in thought. “Oh, you mean for the near future, I plan to defeat the evil darkness about to settle upon this world. But first do you have any hot dogs?”

-- Angels, Demons. Itinerate Bartenders and Lady Archeologist. A race against time to stop the world being consumed by the ultimate evil.

.... Michael didn’t move, but continued to watch the young woman. She glanced at Landon, her eyes assessing. “You’re one of us,” she said. “Human, not an angel, but you’re helping him?”
Landon looked a little sheepish and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t have much choice.”
“Yes of course,” she said and then turned to the angel her eyes going over every inch, assessing and evaluating like a good scientist. “Tell me about the sword,” she said, trying to buy time while her mind raced.
Michael pulled over a spare chair and slowly sat down, smoothing his pants. Bad boy Landon stood next to him like a towering block of gray granite. Michael tore his eyes away from the sword and glanced at Amy before they were drawn back to the weapon in her lap. A deep desire shone through his eyes like laser beams as his hand rose slightly, hoping to hold it once again. But he seemed to gather himself, taking a deep breath he looked up.
“I forged it myself over 70,000 years ago,” He began. “A young African tribesman named Klutai led me to a fallen star on the plains of the Serengeti. I spent years pounding away, pouring my blood into every layer, engraving each symbol from memory.” A weak smile crossed his perfect lips. “I filled it with power until it was the strongest weapon ever imagined. I used the sword to carve its scabbard out of an ebony tree struck by lightning on a clear day. I sharpened the blade on a whetstone from the bottom of the Dead Sea. And then met Lucifer in the desolate Sahara,” Michael said. His eyes became lost in thought as if he was looking out over an endless sea of sand. Amy felt the power building within him and the sword responded, growing warm in her hand as it fed off him.
“Lucifer had been secretly ruining your chances. A natural disaster here, a plague there. You humans were down to about two thousand souls scattered in small bands and family groups. Living a hand to mouth existence. It was a real question as to whether you were going make it. You only had fire and primitive rock tools, but he knew what you could become.” The Angel smiled and sighed. Growing quiet as he remembered. “We fought for three days. It was a truly epic battle.”
“The sword has reappeared throughout your history. It is imbued with a special power. Each of those engravings is there for a reason.”
“Alexander used it to cut the Gordian knot. Romulus yielded it when he beat the Etruscan tribes on a hill top in central Italy. Mohammed called is Zulfiqar and used it when he took Mecca and Medina. Emperor Qin carried it into battle on his way to starting the Chinese empire. Gengis Khan charged across the steps with this very sword raise above his head. Every Empire, every great kingdom. It has a way of making its way to that vital juncture of events that impact history. It was even pulled out of a stone and used by a young boy to defend a kingdom against an invading Germanic horde.”
“Excalibur!” Amy whispered breathlessly.
“Yes, Your mythical Excalibur. And more, much more. I have used it myself, each time I have met the evil one in battle. It is a part of me, the closest thing I have to a soul,” Michael said, looking longingly at the weapon in

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