The Tragedy Chronicles

By Tony Bertot

The author of the Assassin Trilogy now delves into a world, unseen by mortals, where emissaries of God and Lucifer exist. In this world Angels and Takers guide recently departed souls to their next destination.
In The Tragedy Chronicles the author once again captivates his readers as they are engrossed with the existence of a powerful Taker named Tragedy. Discovered by the Angels, Lucifer, in an attempt to protect his prodigy reincarnates her into a mortal where souls cannot be easily identified. Discovered, the Angels are faced with the dilemma that this child, Char, is possessed by one of the most powerful Takers to have ever existed, one who can tilt the balance between good and evil. However their rule to never harm a mortal is put to the test as they begin the task of bringing Tragedy to the side of good.
In the physical world the uncanny accidental death of several individuals puts Captain Darren Washington on a path, which puts his life and that of his sweetheart in jeopardy. As the facts unfold a formidable confrontation beckons Captain Washington in the direction of a young child whose power and strength defy what is known to man.
In the background Angels and Takers hover close by doing their best to influence those around the child. Lucifer begins an onslaught of attacks upon the Angels risking everything to save his precious Taker from any influence by those that surround her.
Follow this bewitching story to its final surprising climax

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tony Bertot
• Release date: Oct 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311320162

Tony Bertot

I was born and raised in New York City. In 1964 I joined the Navy and was honorably discharge four years later. In 2008 I retired after 32 1/2 years with HSBC. For the past 18 years I lived in Cheektowaga New York and in 2010 moved to Surprise Arizona where I currently reside. Though I published my first book in April of 2009 I have been telling stories most of my life. My kids and their friends were my captivated audiences. I loved watching their faces as their characters (usually contained them as part of the story) came to life in my stories. Recently finished my 4th book, Hell Train. Read Tony Bertot's Assassin Trilogy which consist of the following: The Heart of an Assassin The Birth of an Assassin The Legacy of the Assassin Both reviewers and readers have given me great reviews.

Book preview

The

Tragedy

Chronicles

By Tony Bertot

The Tragedy Chronicles ©2014 by Antonio Bertot

Distributed by Smashwords

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this work may be reproduced, in any form or by any means, without written permission of the author, except those uses that fall within the fair use laws put forth by the United States.

Editing

The editing of The Tragedy Chronicles was done by Angela Kraft, P.O. Box 334, Patterson, California, 95363. [e-mail]

Cover Design

The cover for The Tragedy Chronicles was designed by Joe Kawano, whose expertise also includes illustration, fantasy map cartography and more. www.joekawano.com

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1 Tragedy’s Meow

Chapter 2 Tragedy’s Good Side

Chapter 3 An Angel Attack

Chapter 4 The Traitor Trader

Chapter 5 Summoned

Chapter 6 Birth of Char Sippleton

Chapter 7 Summoning

Chapter 8 Young Char

Chapter 9 Chris Sippleton

Chapter 10 Sharlene Sippleton

Chapter 11 In a Small Town

Chapter 12 The Gathering

Chapter 13 The Decision of Angels

Chapter 14 9-1-1. What is Your Emergency?

Chapter 15 Where There is Smoke

Chapter 16 Char’s New Friends

Chapter 17 Adrianne

Chapter 18 Intervention

Chapter 19 Tread Carefully

Chapter 20 The Gathering of Angels and Mortals

Chapter 21 Close Encounter

Chapter 22 The Powers That Be

Chapter 23 An Act of War

Chapter 24 Reality Check

Chapter 25 Preventive Measures

Chapter 26 The Reckoning

Chapter 27 The Epilogue

Acknowledgements:

The success of any author is based on the number of people who read and support his work.

My heartfelt thanks to the below listed people who became part of the process by reviewing each chapter as I completed it and providing me with their comments and input in making this book a success.

Adam Hickmott

Adrianne Freas

B. Dobson (Bath, NY)

Barbara Carter (Lancaster, NY)

Barbie Gee Sadler Humphrey

Bob & Maria Hughes (Valley Stream, NY)

Carol Crawford (Surprise, AZ)

Carlos (Southamerican Translator) (10 Montevideo, Uruguay)

Chris Sipple (Canfield, OH)

Cindy Benns Moss

Dave Edlund

David E Scott (Grand Island, NY)

Debbie Cotton (Berlin Center, OH)

Debbie Kasdan (Venice, FL)

Dee Hewitt

Denise Labuski (Holtsville, NY)

Everett Raines

Greg Lewis (Rockport, TX)

Helen Gallegos (CO)

Henrietta Afansor Sampong (Ghana)

Irene & Gary Wood (Buffalo, NY)

Jennifer & Fudge Skowron (Cheektowaga, NY)

Jessica (Tolleson, AZ)

Joann & Norb Tatko (Buffalo, NY)

John Harrison (Grand Island, NY)

Jon Magee Fife (Scotland, UK)

Kathleen & Tom Doody (Surprise, AZ)

Louis A Bertot (New York, NY)

Lydia Boyer (Palm Springs, CA)

Margeret Flake (Cabot, AR)

Maria (Levittown, NY)

Melinda Brunetto (Buffalo, NY)

Pat & Tom Usiak (Buffalo, NY)

Pat Gilbert (Alden, NY)

Patrik Thijs

Paul D Jedrisik

Peter Gomes (NJ, West New York)

Phyllis Vath (Youngstown, OH)

Ray Spengler (Buffalo, NY)

Robin Hahn

Rose Kruszka (Buffalo, NY)

Rosemary Mamie Adkins

Rivka & Joe Kawano

Sabrina Anastasia Bertot (New York, NY)

Sandi Benns (Grand Island, NY)

Sandra (Buffalo, NY)

Sharlene (Canfield, OH)

Shannon Zaccaria

Sharon (Yucaipa, CA)

Social Media Manager, Jesse Fisher, at TheAuthorsAlly.com

Spike and Linda Christensen (Buckeye, AZ)

Suzanne Flynn

Susan Westergaard

Tana Noble (Orchard Park, NY)

Ted Arenas (Surprise, AZ)

Trish Jackson (Gainsville, FL)

Remembering those that have passed on before us.

Some had a chance to live a full life while others were taken too soon.

Colin Wegner (NY)

Frank L Verduin (MI)

Frances T. Jankowski (IL)

Frank N. Jankowski (IL)

George Aaron Smith (TX)

James Vidal (NY)

Lois L Bertot (MD)

Martha Jyotsna Gomes (NY)

Robert G. Jankowski (IL)

They remain in our hearts and prayers.

A special shout out to the below listed individuals and/or establishments for their excellent service to the public;

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The BEST Real Estate Agents in Arizona

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[e-mail]

Prologue

The continual crusade between good and evil has existed since the beginning of time in both the spirit and mortal worlds. In the forefront of these battles are the Angels and Takers who constantly collide in their zeal to collect the souls of the departed.

Their purpose is to guide the souls of the recently departed to one of three destinies. The blessed ones seamlessly enter a new host: a babe receiving the first breath of life. This is the journey that most souls take. They are the learners, reincarnated until they have reached spiritual fulfillment. The second, and most exceptional group, ascend to the heavens where they join the Almighty and those who have gone before them. Finally, the souls that cannot be saved are left to wander the spirit world until collected by a Taker and incorporated into Lucifer’s army.

In the beginning, good easily triumphed over evil. Through the centuries, however, that balance has been threatened, causing certain rules to be put in place in order to control the growth and advancement of Lucifer’s followers. The first, and most important of these rules, prohibits Takers from collecting any souls unless within the first hour of a given day. Between midnight and 1:00am, Takers may seize any soul wandering in the spirit world, unless an Angel gets to it first and whisks it away. The second rule prevents any Angel or Taker from causing the death of a mortal, either directly or indirectly. The final rule prohibits any Taker or Angel from physically appearing before a mortal, which might influence their beliefs, thus causing a vast imbalance on how mortals perceive life after death.

Unfortunately, there aren’t enough Angels to prevent the abduction of mortal souls who have passed on during any given hour before midnight. Rare as it might be, some good souls are lost to the dark Takers. However, while the Takers outnumber the Angels by a significant margin, the elder Angels are the more powerful of the two and can easily, and permanently, dispel a Taker. Because of this, many stolen souls are recovered during the midnight hour.

Elder Angels are easily identified by their large, beautiful wings. After having served in Heaven for however long God deems fit, souls are promoted to status of Angel. Angels live forever, unless they are defeated by a Taker or vanquished for deviating from their responsibilities.

Most Takers are wingless and cannot move as swiftly from one location to another. They develop their wings over time with the gaining of strength from gathering souls. Their services are limited to about two hundred years after they have exhausted their mortal reincarnations. In the order of the spirit world Takers are submissive to Angels, being unable to interfere with the souls that have been claimed by them. For this reason, Takers seek obscurity from those souls, thus avoiding any confrontation that may result in their demise. Because of who they serve, Takers are known for their misdeeds, which eventually lead to their permanent removal of service.

It should be noted that animals are also part of the Kingdom of God, and their souls are also part of the harvesting. Gathering of all souls, animal and mortal, brings strength to both Angels and Takers. However, Angels tend mostly to the protection of human souls, leaving animals open for claim by Takers. And since Angels are often too busy to notice the welfare of animal lives, it occasionally happens that a Taker intentionally causes their deaths.

No matter how strong an Angel or Taker becomes he is subject to the hierarchy within the spirit world. When either a Taker or an Angel is vanquished from existence, it is felt by all: an instant jolt that sends shockwaves throughout the spectral world.

Angels watch over one another as well as the Takers, ensuring the balance between good and evil remains. For thousands of years the balance endured—until now.

This is the story of a Taker who kept below the radar of the Angels, who slipped in and out of the overseers’ views for over a thousand years. Finally surfacing, she has become the most powerful Taker of them all. Her disdain for all living things, along with her callous disregard of all rules, has been brought to the attention of the elder Angels. Hopefully it isn’t too late.

Her name is Tragedy, and these are her chronicles.

Chapter 1 Tragedy’s Meow

It was cold and dark in the old Brooklyn cemetery as Maliceea the cat nestled her four kittens a few moments before the midnight hour. She looked into the darkness and there, about twenty feet away, her keen eyes detected the dark silhouette perched upon a headstone. The stranger’s long black wings crowned just above her head and gracefully flowed down the back of the headstone. Sensing no danger, Maliceea turned her attention to the kittens cuddling against her for warmth.

Tragedy stared at Maliceea from atop the headstone through dark, cold eyes. She smiled as she saw Boston, the only male kitten of the four, quickly wander away. After all, he was a cat, and curiosity was his nature. Maliceea quickly responded by swiftly jumping in front of him and nudging Boston back to the others. Reluctantly, he turned and rejoined his siblings under the fallen tombstone, only to slip out through the other side less than a minute later—without Maliceea noticing.

Tragedy watched thoughtfully.

Boston passed easily through the bars that surrounded the cemetery. Making his way across the street, the sound of screeching tires filled the air as he ran in front of a car, barely escaping his certain demise. One of his lives had been used up.

Tragedy observed as Maliceea’s eyes opened slightly, unaware the sound she heard was caused by her child. The mother cat noticed, before closing her eyes to a much needed sleep, the dark silhouette was now gone—into the night.

Down the street Boston moved swiftly, soundlessly. Occasionally looking back toward the cemetery, he marked its location so that he would know the route back.

It was cool outside and so quiet. He heard a noise in a nearby alley and being curious by nature, he slowly crept forward, staying in the dark. A short distance away, three dogs fought over a piece of meat found in a trashcan. Quietly, the kitten stared. He knew they would not take kindly to him, so he moved cautiously, crossing to the other side of the alley to continue on his journey. He moved a short distance, attempting to elude detection, when he heard an ominous sound coming closer. He turned and saw the three dogs staring at him.

With his heart pounding he raced ahead. The three dogs gave chase.

Despite his swiftness the larger and faster dogs began to close the gap. Suddenly, the kitten turned into an alley, pouncing up to the top of a trashcan. The dogs sped into the alley after him, one of them knocking the can over. The kitten rolled onto the pavement, running as he found his footing.

The relentless dogs continued their pursuit. Finally the hunt came to an end.

Boston was backed into a corner.

The dogs slowly closed in, their eyes wide with apparent victory. They snarled as they moved forward, saliva dripping from their mouths in anticipation of their next meal. A foot or two away, they heard a sound behind them.

Tragedy stood and watched.

She walked forward, between the dogs and bent down, lifting the kitten to her breast. The dogs snarled, baring their teeth as they watched the menacing dark life form holding their meal. They were starving—had not eaten a good meal in days. But they were also cautious, afraid to approach and in fear for their lives.

Tragedy stared down at the dogs, now retreating with trepidation, and then into Boston’s eyes.

SNAP.

The kitten’s spirit now sat upon Tragedy’s shoulder as she took the lifeless body of the animal and tossed it in front of the anxious dogs. She exited the alley, turning toward the cemetery.

Tragedy reached the edge of the cemetery as Maliceea was heading toward her. Tragedy raised her hand, stopping the mother in her tracks. Maliceea stared up at Tragedy in wonder, meowing mournfully as she realized her loss. She turned and quickly headed back to the tombstone where her remaining three kittens lay alone in the dark, tears escaping her eyes.

Tragedy stared at her with a malevolent smile on her lips. Spreading her huge black wings, she took to the air with Boston firmly settled upon on her shoulders. She flew high above the cemetery and witnessed Maliceea sadly making her way back to her kittens.

Maliceea would no longer look for the kitten that wandered away. Today three starving dogs were fed and a kitten’s spirit was released.

Tragedy was quite pleased with herself.

Chapter 2 Tragedy’s Good Side

Her feet dangled from the edge of a building as Tragedy peered down at the people below: staring, watching and waiting, secure with her existence.

The streets were crowded on this cold winter night as pedestrians hurried to their destinations. A dirty, ragged man darted between them with his hand out as he pleaded for charity.

Please, he would beg only to be ignored. He lived in a world of the unseen that roamed the streets of most cities, begging for a handout.

Occasionally, someone rewarded him with loose change. On holidays the generosity of strangers was influenced by the spirit of the season. The rest of the time they didn’t care.

Most wanderers were grateful for the few people who were kind enough to spare pocket change. But not this old man. He couldn’t care less. He lived on the street and despised the righteous attitude of the affluent. Hell, they were rich, but he owned the street.

With a few coins in his hands, he smiled to himself as he limped along.

What fools! Stupid, they’re all stupid, he thought to himself as the chill of the night crept into his clothes, engulfing his useless, pathetic soul. He needed no one, for in his mind his intellectual superiority required no social intercourse.

Shuffling off the main street, he wandered halfway down an alley where he settled upon a cardboard box. The dark, littered alley stretched the length of a city block, with access to the back doors of the many stores on both sides of the block. Garbage bins sat alongside the doors with the smell of decaying food adding to the unpleasantness.

His leg hurt. Gangrene had begun to eat away the flesh. The swollen leg oozed with blood and a yellowish, putrid emulsion. He knew that when the pain set in he would simply take his pills—a pharmaceutical miracle that took away the pain and the cold, and would cause him to plummet into a restful sleep.

He reached into his pocket and drew his little box containing the capsules. As his dirty fingers searched the box for the only peace he knew, someone snatched it from him.

What. . . What are you doing? He asked, looking up at a dark figure standing before him.

Tragedy placed her hand upon his head and visions poured into him.

Visions of an animal he killed with a hammer.

—Of a woman he beat senseless

—Of an elderly man he robbed after hitting him with a bottle

—Of a child staring up at him as she took her last breath

Memory after memory of all the evil he had done to others filled his head.

After a minute or so he backed away and stared up at her. Who... Who are you? What the fuck are you? Leave me alone! You can’t do that. You can’t take my pills! The pain… He grappled for words as he tried to reach out to her and retrieve the only escape he knew.

Tragedy looked down upon him and touched his face.

He tried to speak, but no sound emerged. He tried again and again. He screamed into the madness of the night, and still the quiet remained.

She touched his legs. A strong aroma permeated the air—the stench of burning flesh. He looked up and she was gone.

What the..., he said to himself as he looked about the now empty alleyway.

The smell was nauseating. He tried to get up, but could not. He was held in place. Despite his attempt to flee, the will of the Taker was beyond the will of man. The pain in his leg became unbearable. He cried out into the silent and endless night.

He turned as he heard someone coming into the alley. He banged on the side of the nearby trashcan.

Here I am! Here I am! He yelled. Please, help me! He cried out, but no sound could be heard.

Then he heard steps. They were getting closer.

Yes. Yes. Here I am! He continued to cry out, now excited that someone was coming to his rescue.

Then he saw them as they rounded the nearest can—three large, voracious dogs—their heads low, their mouths watering. He heard them growl in anticipation of the feast that lay before them.

No. No. Oh God. Nooooooooooo! The old man screamed to no one.

From atop the building in the darkness, Tragedy stared down as her cherished pets darted in and out at him, taking small bites and backing away. It went on for over an hour.

She smiled smugly, satisfied with her accomplishment. And when it was complete she released a thunderous laugh. A sinister sound filled with evil and annihilation.

With her task completed, Tragedy moved on.

Chapter 3 An Angel Attack

Tragedy watched as an old woman with amber skin pushed a shopping cart filled with all her worldly belongings. She dragged one foot along the sidewalk as she made her way up to the recreation center, where hot soup and a sandwich awaited her. The cold, brisk December wind tugged at her long gray coat. She held it together tightly with one of her half-gloved hands as she pushed the cart with the other. Her exposed fingers were cold: a cold, she accepted.

There was no pity in Tragedy’s eyes, as she peered down from where she sat, high atop the church across the street. Invisible to the human eye, her black silhouette remained motionless, making her virtually invisible to those in her world as well.

The old woman continued her slow trek forward as the fierce wind mixed with light snow hammered her from every direction. Finally reaching the front of the recreation center, she turned her back to the entrance and began to pull the cart up the three steps that led to the front door. With slow and deliberate movement, she reached the threshold and pulled open one of the doors. She entered and paused a moment, summoning the strength to continue on into the recreation center as the warmth from within engulfed her.

Heidi! Someone shouted out to her.

The old lady looked up and waved, pleased to know that Sister Anne was among the volunteers serving food tonight. A basketball court served as a dining area during the weekdays. The chairs and tables were on the left side of the entrance, and on the right side was a parade of steaming pans with volunteers behind them, spooning up food onto the trays as the homeless marched by.

Heidi grabbed a tray and placed it on her cart as she moved along the line.

Good evening, Heidi. And how are you feeling today? Father Jacob asked.

Heidi looked up at him and nodded as the father placed a couple of biscuits on her tray. Moving along she came upon Mrs. Anderson, a volunteer from uptown.

"Heidi, do