Justice: Angel Calling, #1

By Georgia Tingley

 ANGEL CALLING SERIES BOOK #1

WARRIOR ANGEL

Independence Day, 4th July, 1976 - Thirteen-year-old Christine Conroy mysteriously vanishes from her back yard in a small country town in North Western USA. Folks think Christine has run away to Hollywood as she threatened, but people who know what really happened are determined to hide the truth.

Forty years later, Justice Smith is commissioned to find her body and her murderer - not an easy task after so much time has elapsed. Luckily for him, he has a secret weapon - Justice Smith is a Warrior Angel!

Sent down to Earth to seek justice for those that can't, he uncovers a deadly secret - the bodies of several young girls. A serial killer has gone undetected, living among a small community for four decades.

To complicate matters further, Justice has a mortal connection to the prime suspect's daughter Andi. He finds himself teaming up with an unlikely ally and while working together to uncover the truth, he crosses the boundary to break the heavenly rules for a forbidden love. Will the price he has to pay be too high?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Georgeous Publishing
• Release date: Mar 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9780648267508

Book preview

PROLOGUE

A midnight-black SUV sat in the deserted car park at The Cascade Reserve Walking Trail, its headlights illuminated the trail map on the information signpost.

Behind the sign, ribbons of mist swirled around the towering pines and fir trees, and snaked its way along the path. Dark clouds obscured the stars, ensuring the night remained even blacker. Muted music could be heard from the car as the driver studied the map. The song ended and the solitary passenger turned off the engine.

The man rummaged around in his glove box. His hand closed around cold metal and he extracted a chrome torch. From the back seat he pulled on a woolen cap, wrapped a scarf around his neck and fitted leather gloves onto large hands. Dragging a bulky coat into the front, he then opened his door, stood, and shrugged into the warmth of the weatherproof covering.

Heavy boots crunched on the loose gravel in the lot as he walked to the back of the car. From the rear door, he retrieved a long-handled spade, turned off the car’s lights, grabbed the torch, and locked the vehicle. On silent feet, he made his way down the walk trail.

Years ago, this land had been a wilderness area, solely used by hunters and dedicated hikers who accessed the region in four-wheel drives. Fast forward to present day, and it was a tourist destination in the summer months, used for camping or hiking by the cascading falls and rocky pools, which fed into the Cold Mountain River.

If he had a choice, he would not be out here in the dead of night, at the end of a particularly cold autumn season. But what he needed to do required unwanted attention, and the night was his collaborator.

The flashlight’s beam made crazy, crisscross patterns into the darkened forest with the man’s movements, illuminating a pair of luminous owl eyes. His breathing labored as the trail wound up and down; twisting around trees and over half buried rocks and fallen branches. Plumes of vaporous steam left his mouth and nose with his exertion.

After thirty minutes, he veered off the pathway and came to what years ago might have been a clearing, but was now thick with native grasses and undergrowth.

He surveyed the area and strategically placed the torch in the forked branch of a tree. Lifting the spade, he rammed it into the hardened ground, his booted foot gave added weight to the tool as it dug into the earth.

After shoveling for several minutes, the aromatic smell of wet leaves and vegetation mixed with the freshly turned earth, filled his nostrils as a hole opened. He took off his coat, hat, and scarf, tossed them over a fallen log and wiped the sweat off his brow with his forearm, before continuing to dig.

He heard a muted crack and froze. Looking around, he cocked his head to confirm where the sound originated. An uneasy awareness settled over him. He knelt in the dirt to take a closer look at what he’d unearthed and brushed the loose soil away from what appeared to be a human femur bone. If he continued to dig, he would damage what had been uncovered.

Standing over the shallow grave, the man peered at its revealed contents. Decision made, he pulled off his gloves and dropped them to the ground, lifting his face skyward. In a small patch, charcoal clouds gave way to a waxing moon and bathed the glade in a silver wash.

With narrowed eyes he focused on drawing supernatural energy into himself. He felt hot, and knew his brown irises were changing to a deep gold-yellow as sparks flickered from their depths, while tiny flashes shot out from the radiant orbs. The power was taking hold.

Outstretched arms were raised toward the moon, and a golden glowing aura surrounded his body. Spiraling downward and touching the ground, it rapidly covered the short distance to encircle the grave. He looked to the heavens once more with arms spanned to either side. An energy source, not known to mankind, enveloped his body, and raised him inches off the ground.

Now infused with an unearthly power, he lowered, his feet, now once more in contact with the ground. Fingers spread, he positioned a hand over the grave and focused his power, willing its secrets to be revealed. 

The bones gradually started to ease from their resting place and rise. Thick rubble dropped away, soil and small clumps of dirt and rock falling back into the grave.

Unearthed, and encased by a gilded veil, a small childlike skeletal body was released, floating above its burial bed. His eyes locked onto the form.

The golden glow enveloping the body, now discharged shooting sparks into the overgrown grass like welding flashes, arcing out and alighting on the ground at different points.

Thunder cracked and lightning ripped through the air, while an earthquake-like rumble shook the forest. The nearby ground started to lift around him. Fissures of brilliant light erupting from the area where the sparks landed. Beams of brightness, blinding in their ultra violet intensity, shone straight up into the night sky from the different locations within the open space. He stepped back and shielded his eyes from the brilliance.

The sweet-smelling earthiness of the rich soil filled the air. At the same time, several holes progressively appeared, the grass and under-brush sinking down into the exposed cavities, their contents surrounded by sparkly golden light.

Shaken, the man twisted his head in different directions, absorbing the scene before him. Within seconds, comprehension dawned and both his arms now reached out before him, palms downward and fingers spread, maximizing his powers to elevate and unmask the true horror. 

Beads of sweat percolated onto his forehead and trickled down the side of his face with the effort as more small bodies arose from their graves.

The clearing, no more than sixty square feet, had released its hidden secret after forty long years.

He’d gone to that lonely, forlorn grave-site, to search for one forgotten soul. Instead, he was astounded to find seven children’s bodies - all looking for justice.

CHAPTER ONE

Four days earlier

‘We are not human beings having a spiritual experience, rather we are spiritual beings having a human experience.’

The words, credited to Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, a French philosopher, paleontologist, and Jesuit priest, are familiar to most people without them completely understanding their true significance.

I contemplated these words while I lay on top of the floral bedspread in a comfortable motel room, my linked hands supporting my head on the too-soft pillow.

Like always, it felt good to be back inside my human frame. The sensation was as comforting as slipping on a favorite pair of blue jeans; the worn denim, soft and forgiving, shaping itself to familiar contours.

I liked motels. They suited me. Mostly because you can park in front of your room, serving the twofold purpose of being able to keep an eye on your vehicle and shorten the distance to carry your luggage. But best of all, you can come and go without walking through a lobby and making eye contact, or unnecessary polite conversation with the reception staff.

Kinda’ makes me sound like I’m running from the law.

I smirked. Far from it. I came here to seek justice for someone who couldn’t.

But I digress. So, what does it mean to have a human experience? I have fielded this query numerous times throughout my angelic history.

There is a God! Although we refer to God as a He. He is neither male, nor female, but is pure energy, so powerful that He cannot exist in solid form. Known to humans by many names and identities, and referred to in the male gender. It’s easier for humans to relate this way, for on this planet, the male of most species is the stronger and more dominant.

We were created as spiritual beings, incarnated into human form in this world... hence the term ‘spiritual beings having a human experience’.

Put here to have lessons; life lessons for our spiritual growth. Continually reincarnating until we attain a perfected soul, experiencing sometimes hundreds of lives, repeating the same lesson over and over until we have mastered it.

Never His intent that we worship Him, but rather, like a businessman who creates His own company, He wants it run according to His instruction. Our reward? To be incarnated into Angels of God.

I don’t mean religious zealots, tasked to seek divine vengeance; but messengers of God; a servant, employee, or officer, carrying out duties to assist mankind in their journey.

This is where I come in. I am one such being. A Warrior Angel. My name? Justice. My mission? To seek justice for those that can’t.

I slid off the mattress and walked to the window, pulled the drapes to one side and gazed out into the deserted car park. The rain hadn’t eased since my arrival an hour ago, and now it spewed down, the water pelting sideways in relentless fluid sheets.

Puddles formed on the bitumen and I watched a housemaid, her clothes and shoes saturated in the few seconds it took to run from one room across the yard to a door in the main building.

I felt an inexplicable, stupid sadness for my hire car parked out in the atrocious weather, a glossy black, Jeep Grand Cherokee high-performance SUV, which I had fallen in love with at first sight. Huge drops smashed against the car’s hood and bounced off to land in the many pools surrounding it.

It’s a common characteristic with mankind to humanize inanimate objects as if they had feelings and emotions, and in my human form I was no different.

A flash of lightning lit up the gloomy sky, jagged, and pale purple in color, I counted the seconds to hear the clap of thunder. Louder than I’d anticipated, it shook the glass panes making me jump.

A barely discernible form appeared in my line of sight amid the thick downpour. I peered out into the vacant lot, rubbing my eyes in disbelief. A lone figure stood in the drenching downpour. He turned on the spot, taking in his surroundings. His body was large and intimidating at six feet and six inches, with shoulders and arms to put the biggest line backer to shame.

He wore a long black coat, which repelled the rain, drops hitting the material like bullets, and sliding down to land at his feet. His thick legs were encased in black pants and huge military-style boots completed the menacing outfit. Large white wings with gold edging on the top and dark red feathers on the tips, adorned his back.

Long red hair, made darker by the water was tied back into a low ponytail and rested between his shoulder blades. His features set into a grim countenance, lips pressed tightly together as he scanned the landscape, water sluicing off his face.

It was a figure I recognized instantly, although I had never met him. It was Samael. An Archangel of the highest order - the Angel of Destruction and Death. He is an accuser and a seducer. Similar to Lucifer, but unlike the evil Satan, Samael is regarded as both good and evil. His position in the heavenly realm is solid as he is often tasked with grim and destructive duties. Samael is described as the ‘Severity of God’. A Warrior Angel - and my boss.

I tunneled my fingers through my disheveled hair in an attempt to neaten the pillow-mussed strands, rubbing the back of my neck in the process and watched as he turned. His eyes narrowed on my face before moving purposefully in my direction.

Unaffected by the deluge, large strides brought him to the front of my motel room and I went swiftly to open the door before he could knock. I needn’t have bothered as the wooden entry swung wide open, giving admission to the tempest and the Angel.

Strange, light burgundy eyes ran over me, assessing, before he entered and closing the door behind him, shook the beaded water off his shoulders.

I dropped to one knee in respect and admiration. My lord.

Rise. The one word was spoken with the deep voice of authority.

His presence filled the room making it appear even smaller as he prowled around, touching my laptop, which sat on the dining table. He moved to the small kitchenette and gazed out the back window.

My Lord. You grace me with your presence.

He ignored my words, still surveying the view from the window, his body blocked the grey light and darkened the room further. I patiently waited for him to reveal the reason for his visit. He finally turned to me, and what I can only assume was a smile, parted his lips.

Do you know why you were chosen for this mission?

I shook my head. I never know the reasons behind the Angelic Counsel’s decisions.

He nodded. I chose you personally.

He watched my reaction with his curious raptor eyes, not missing a single emotion playing across my face.

I felt pleasure and bafflement in equal measure. I’m honoured my Lord. Why me?

He came toward me, stopping only feet from my position still near the door. His eyes seemed to peer into my very soul. At times incarnated souls are bad, very bad. They do evil, unspeakable acts. God has allowed humans to deal with these evil souls on their own terms and most of the time they get it right. Sometimes however, evil goes unpunished. If it goes on for too long, we are sent in to give humanity a helping hand and provide a balance. Which brings us to this four-star motel in Oregon.

He looked around the room, his regard lighting on the bed. He walked over to it and looked down on the crumpled bedspread. It is time you earned your colored feathers. Not everything will be clear and understandable, but you must commit to delving into the secrets. All will be revealed in due course.

His actions and cryptic words puzzled me and I longed to question him, but after he had just told me it would be explained to me in time, I held back. Samael took the two steps necessary to return and stand in front of me. You are not to go into this mission with preconceived ideas, allowing your emotions to guide you, no matter how sensitive the assignment becomes. Remember, the mission is always paramount.

I was humbled by his words. For whatever reason I had been chosen for this assignment, I knew it was a big deal. Perhaps it would affect an important event in mankind’s history?

I appreciate your trust in me, Lord Samael.

He nodded to me and reached out a hand to place it on the top of my shoulder. I felt his strength seep into my body where he touched.

There are challenges we all must face. Sometimes difficult, often painful. There is a matter that others before you have been unable to resolve. You will finish it. Use your powers sparingly. Humans must not know we walk among them, else they venerate the messengers instead of giving The Almighty the homage and exultation.

I understand. I hope to complete my mission, and won’t let you down. I voiced the words, although I didn’t fully understand ‘the matter that others couldn’t resolve’, but I had faith that it would be disclosed at the appropriate time. And if Samael had selected me for this duty, then I would put every effort into closing it.

Archangel Samael looked deeply into my eyes. His own, mesmerising in their intensity. I know you won’t. Tis why I chose you.

With that, he pulled open the front door. The rain and wind swept into the room with his actions. Undeterred, Samael stepped outside into the downpour. Standing next to my car, the ‘larger than life’ angel seemed to dwarf even that as he lifted a fist before placing it over his heart in the universal Angelic gesture of solidarity. He then spread his mighty wings and flew upward in another clash of lightning.

Pushing the door closed against the squally storm, I rested my back against the cool wood and closed my eyes.

Holy shit.

My voice sounded shaky to my own ears. I let out a deep breath and paced the room, my head filled with thoughts of Samael and our encounter. Something important was going down and I was a part of it. I longed to earn the colored feathers that adorned senior angels’ wings. To date, my feathers were pure white. This mission and all the undisclosed intel was my foot-in-the-door moment, and I didn’t want to blow my chances of moving up the angelic ladder.

Glancing at the black multi-functional digital watch on my wrist, I winced at the wasted day. 4 pm and it was already darkening. Samael must have halted time briefly on his entry and exit so no one would see him. Angels could freeze time as long as it’s only for the smallest of periods, so as not to interfere with mankind’s time-phase.

Keen to start my mission and uncover the great mystery of this assignment, I made myself coffee, ripping open two of the small sachets provided by the motel. The need to keep my body wired with caffeine was a pleasant consequence of existing in human form. If an avid craving for very sweet coffee was one of the disadvantages... meh, I could live with that.

The human body I chose to inhabit for my earthly undertaking was the same form as my final incarnation on Earth over one hundred years ago - an Australian sheep farmer in the late 1800’s. God’s creative energy allowed this body to be reanimated for such purposes.

Standing tall at over six-feet, and in my early forties, I had the rugged good looks of a man of the earth. My thick, dark hair, splashed with a scatter of gray dispersed around the fringes, lends me an air of authority. 

Years of hard work under the hot Australian sun and performing tough, physical tasks, had honed my muscles to create an athlete’s physique. I was solidly built, without being too pumped up like those steroid popping muscle dudes. That wasn’t the image I wanted to convey as a tough investigator. I wanted to be serious, but keep a raw edge so people thought twice about messing with me.

It was imperative that humans thought of me as one of their own, so as per Samael’s instructions, I was masquerading as a private investigator, feigning research for a book on the disappearance of children. My disguise would allow me to work with the police, find evidence, and bring judgment to a murderer who thought he had gotten away from the law.

On automatic pilot, I stirred the hot liquid in my cup while I gazed from the small window in the economical kitchenette. The same scene Samael had looked upon only moments before. The view the back of my room provides is of a steep incline overlooking the Cold Mountain River from which the motel derived its name. 

A slow-moving watercourse most of the year, in the spring it flowed with force, swollen with the winter melt, emptying its contents into the Columbia River before it travels downstream to Cascade Locks.

It was well on its way to becoming frozen with the better part of Autumn finished. The trees that followed the river were stark and almost leafless, the colorful reds and yellows of The Fall giving way to a brown carpet of mush. Today, the black water flowed unhurried, its surface pockmarked by fat raindrops, while the occasional swirl drew attention to its icy currents.

The hot liquid slid down my throat as the purpose of my mission crowded my thoughts - the disappearance and murder forty years ago of Christine Conroy. Commissioned by the Angelic Counsel and assigned with the goal of locating and bringing accountability to her murderer who, according to the Counsel, still resided in this small township.

Christine’s body remained undiscovered, and I wondered where the poor girl lay. Was she lying under the water, her small lifeless body trapped beneath fallen logs and twisted branches? I vowed to find her and bring her family the long-awaited reparation, providing some measure of closure in the process.

I lowered myself into

Reviews for Justice

[Vanessa Calouro · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Justice by Georgia Tingley is a paranormal romance that brings Heaven down to Earth. Our main character, Justice, is a messenger of God who helps humans when they fail to find, well, justice. Of course, God doesn’t exactly make it easy for the angel. Justice has to blend in among the humans and solve crimes much like any other private eye. The only difference is that sometimes he’s allowed to use angelic persuasion, a power that allows him to pry the truth from most.

With this power and his charming good looks, he has been tasked with solving the mystery of a thirteen-year-old girl by the name of Christine Conroy. By the time Justice shows up, Christine has been dead for over forty years. The novel follows Justice as he traverses the tiny town and uncovers the truth police were unable to find. Of course, by doing so, Justice steps on some toes and even finds love along the way.

This mix is rather interesting. Often, romance novels are only concerned with showing the reader how head over heels in love the protagonist is. I applaud Tingley for actually taking the time to build a mystery and doing her research. By doing so she supplies her readers with a bit more substance than just kisses and pillow talk. It is apparent that she took her time to make the crime and its investigation as authentic as possible. I can tell that she had it mapped out somewhere but she failed to execute it properly. It did not pack the punch I expected it to.

She sets up the novel like an episode of Criminal Minds where you know who done it but then the show works to show you why. This why is missing from the novel. Yes, Tingley gives us an explanation and it's in line with the paranormal genre she’s writing but it seemed like such a cop-out, at least in my opinion. In addition to a few clichés, there were also certain parts of the storyline that felt contrived for convenience’s sake. It felt like Tingley was forcing the plot to work instead of letting the story speak for itself. Had these kinks been ironed out before publishing, I think this would have been a fantastic book.

I think the main problem might have been the romantic element. It was good and spicy, with just enough taken out to keep my imagination working at full throttle. But, like most romances, it was unbelievable and horribly fast-paced. I’m sorry but no one falls in love that quickly, no matter the circumstances. That aside, the actual writing was heartwarming and uplifting to read. Any girl would be lucky to have a guy like Justice by their side. He’s funny, polite, and incredibly sexy. That’s all well and good but when he’s in a relationship, he shouldn’t be the be all end be all of his partner’s life. Unfortunately, for the female protagonist, she revolves around Justice like the Earth to the sun. I would have loved to see a bit more character development on her part and for most of the cast.

The novel’s majority is written from Justice’s point of view. There is nothing wrong with this approach so long as it doesn’t sacrifice the depth of the other characters. Unlike Criminal Minds, we never really get a taste for people’s motives. Tingley provides us with a nibble but its certainly not the full-course meal meant to satisfy my appetite. For the most part, characters are nothing more than cardboard cutouts of Justice’s judgment. I would have loved to get inside of their heads and see them the way Tingley saw them but as it stands, they just don’t translate well onto paper.

Now I know this review sounds a little harsh right about now but I can assure you that I’m not telling you that this book is trash – far from it. I actually think its pretty good given that this is Tingley’s very first novel. She is on the cusp of something great by mixing romance with mystery and had she just developed it a bit more, I think she would have blown me away. As it stands, however, there is room for improvement and I hope she considers feedback from all her reviewers to make the second book in this series even better. Every writer needs their fair share of criticism and every great writer knows how to use that criticism to their advantage.

I honestly wish her the best of luck and I would recommend this title to anyone who loves angels as much as I do. It was an easy, enjoyable read. The protagonist is a hunk. And, the ending was relatively satisfying with just the right amount of heart-wrenching emotion. I only noticed a few mistakes along the way but they were not detrimental by any means. Overall, this was a fabulous first attempt by Tingley and if you want to support a budding author with a lot of potential, be sure to check her out!