The Midnight Angels

By Jean C. McNamara

The Midnight Angels is a fiction fantasy of a different telling of the Gods and Goddesses of Mount Olympus. They have a mission, these nine Daughters of Zeus; to make sure all things go properly on the blue ball we call Earth. As Humans were the Favored Best of All Creation by the One Who Created them, the Muses of mythology come to life to keep Human History progressing forward...and it doesn't always do that, thanks to our Free Will. Our caretakers and helpers of humanity, the Muses put themselves in subtle places to ensure the survival and thriving of all Humankind. A demon's anger threatens the survival of all the Earth, and it's up to Calliope and Her Sisters and Siblings to fix the mess and keep Earth spinning for the Creator and keep the Humans from destruction. Join the fun in this first of three novels by the author, Jean C. McNamara and follow the adventures of the most enigmatic of all the immortals and their Family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jean C. McNamara
• Release date: Mar 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005435646

Jean C. McNamara

Born and raised in California, I have lived in the Pacific Northwest most of my adult life and grew my family here, including two rugrats, Vladimir and Pocket and I look after three cats when not writing. My favorite topic of any fiction are the old gods and goddesses from Greek and Roman literature..

Book preview

THE

MIDNIGHT

ANGELS

A novel by Jean C. McNamara

Cover photo courtesy of Nicole Dempsey

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

FOREWARD

PROLOGUE: THE WOMAN

PART FIRST

ONE: THE FAMILY ABOVE

TWO: SHAPESHIFTERS

THREE: THE FAMILY BELOW

FOUR: HOMECALLING

PART SECOND

FIVE: CYEX, THE WITCHER, AND MUM

SIX: HOWARD AND THE BOOK

PART THIRD

SEVEN: THE LAST SUMMONS

EIGHT: ASK YOUR QUESTIONS

EPILOGUE: THE HUMAN CONSEQUENCE

NINE: FAIRNESS AND FALLOUT

FOREWARD

The Muses are rarely discussed in pop culture as a whole, yet we refer to them often in casual conversation. The word ‘music’ refers to them, responsible for the art, culture, and spiritual progress of the human race, taken from the word muse. The phrase, kissed by a Muse refers to being inspired from impulse or from a chance happening that moves one to an action.

There are, generally accepted, nine such demi-goddesses called Muse. These were a product of Zeus’s appetite for women that extended to half-human, half-goddess types, and Titans, the natural enemy (if there was one), of the gods.

Some scholars say there were only three at first, that Polyhymnia (pronounced pol-hymm-nee-ah), Calliope, and Terpsichore (pronounced terp-sick-ore-ee), decided they needed to split themselves further as humans showed artistic ability beyond the three basic arts of craft, music, and poetry for which they were responsible. Other, fewer scholars say there were five in number, but nearly all common literature of the time holds their number as nine consistently.

So in the interest of fairness to the readers of this work, the movie Xanadu, from 1980 is about their squad leader, supposedly. While the character of ‘Kira’ never finishes saying her true name in the movie, it is Terpsichore, the Muse of Sacred Dance. Human authors of the time gave the title of ‘squad leader’ to both Calliope and Terpsichore, so I went with the most often ascribed Muse for that, Calliope:

Calliope: Epic Poetry

Polyhymnia: Sacred Poetry

Clio: History/Social Justice

Euterpe (pronounced you-terp): Lyric Poetry/Instruments

Thalia (pronounced tah-LEE-ah): Comedy/Pastoral Poetry

Melpomene (pronounced mell-pom-knee): Tragedy/Artistry

Urania (pronounced yer-any-ah): Astronomy/Philanthropy; and

Erato: Love Poetry/Romance

You will note that the other Muses have dual purposes in the arts; Clio, for example, is the Muse of Historical Lore but also represents Justice. The dual nature of some of the Muses has been difficult to find information on, but the common theory is simple; there first three saw humanity’s need for progress and growth were tied to secondary themes that furthered the arts and sciences.

Human history is fully riven with social justice and society lessons, reflecting us age to age and our ideals about ourselves and those around us. Clio being the appointed historian is the one who guides the Sisters on their varied missions throughout the world, understanding the timing of those things needed for all humanity to make progress and grow. Whereas Thalia may be a comedic poet, she also uses diplomacy to inspire other humans to activism. Urania can guide the Sisters to the absolute best possible alignment to ‘fix’ things as they do when the things get screwed up. She was said to have saved Galileo in his lifetime from execution (this will not be one of the Sister’s stories, sorry) and gave inspiration to Nostradamus.

So they all serve many purposes, with exceptions strict to Calliope, Terpsichore, and Polyhymnia to stick to their one talent as most sacred to Creator.

They are demi-gods, not full on gods and goddesses but partly human. This gives them a certain flexibility in our realm their parents do not have, while in other things they have no power at all. Newton’s Third Law was how I resolved this issue. They serve their god and goddess, family, humanity and the Great Creator (or God if you will)as powerful Beings with no fixed form.

So take a moment before you begin to read this work, and ask yourself something:

Can you think of a time where, if you had turned left instead of right, gone home instead of to that dinner or lunch out, if you had left or arrived later or earlier, how different things would have been? Had I not opted to move to my current town some thirty years back, but stayed where I was, I would not have had my kids, my marriage, my friends or my life. I have no doubt I’d have died years ago as well. How many little moments in life do we not realize until way later made all the difference in how things turned out? Brought on by inspiration, moved by instinct, whatever you call it, look how it turned out.

Now think bigger; had JFK not been assassinated? Had the Great Wall never been built? If Pearl Harbor had not happened? And if Galileo had been put to death for the heresy of astronomy? Michaelangelo not painting the Sistine Chapel? And what if all those items would have been stopped because one person, one moment, turned left instead of right? Where would we be now, with just one of those things altered in the opposite direction?

It boggles the mind, truly. For we assume with some of these things, a better outcome if they had not happened, but we really don’t know that for sure. Because life is more than just big things that happen, but a million tiny things also. We make one decision, how many in a day, but it changes the course of our lives.

Welcome to the Sister’s world.

A goddess’s jealousy, an imp of ill repute, and a fallen angel come calling. To that end, I finish their introduction with my deepest thanks to all of my people. I don’t have ‘idols’ I look up to in this life really, but I do get inspired by the women and men in my life, all of them. These lovely folks have been a part of this journey from start to finish, lending their valuable time and care that I deeply appreciate:

Kira Gookin, a great friend with the most patience ever! Hers is the ‘face’ of the Muses in my mind and They are modeled after her.

Michelle Cardenas was my best example for Iris. Rest in power, my dear angel!

My kids Vladimir and Pocket were my models for Polyhymnia and Terpsichore.

My cherished friend, Teresa Toycen, is the model for Euterpe.

My dear friend Vickie White is the model for Calliope.

My Second Kid, Justine McGlynn is the model for Erato.

My mother Kate, the model for the muse Clio.

My aunt, Elizabeth, is the model for Thalia, Muse of Comedy.

Muse number nine, Melpomne, I owe almost entirely to my dear friend Christine Messer. I love you and am so grateful for your friendship these many moons!

My nephew-adoptee, Jeramy Eagles. I could never have made this work without your valuable input and help. He is Belial, but only on paper! Thank you, sire, for all your great advice!

My spiritual brother Sean Denison is the model for Apollo, and my friend Timothy McGlynn is the model for Hercules. My dear Pranay Shelar is the model for Zeus; I love you forever, my dear! You are the best! Namaste.

Uncle Jim and Aunt MaryBeck, Juan Cardenas, Earl, Poppa Russell May, Patrick, Chica, Autumn, Jude, and Marley McGlynn, Shiloh Darke, Aunt Carla Lockwood, and my beautiful cousins, Erica Walters and Angela Ambrosio and their dad, my Uncle, Paul Edward Moormann. Forever in my heart, Uncle Ed!

All of you made it in here in parts and pieces and I love you all very much.

This novel is dedicated to my mother who passed in 2019, Kate Sheffield, and the real-life model for Clio. And for my wonderful aunt, JC Schoy; you always encouraged my dreams—and never said die. You are the rock I lean on always in this life and I thank you for never giving up on me.

Please note: the stories concerning Anton Szandor LaVey and his family and the ones for Michaelangelo and Kenny Loggins are drawn from my imagination and never took place, so far as I am aware. All stories in this novel are pure fiction with no basis in reality other than the cities referenced. I thank in advance the LaVey Heirs for their indulgence in my storytelling; none of the events herein should be taken as factual.

Jean McNamara, March 5, 2021

THE

MIDNIGHT

ANGELS

PROLOGUE: THE WOMAN

NORTHERN WASHINGTON STATE

SPRING, THE YEAR OF HUMANITY 2014

MARIJO LOGGINS WAS nearly to her driveway, the Kinks blaring on her radio, when she saw the prone woman in the blacktop road ahead of her. Dusk was settling in and, in the vast dark of the Olympic National Forest, to find a body here was not a good sign. MariJo sighed and thanked god for her cell service working this far up the mountain, pulling her android out as she stopped, parked and exited the car, seatbelt flapping away from her loudly.

She sighed heavily and deliberated her choices. It had been a very long day, and even her auburn hair felt tight to her scalp from tension, though she did not have its length braided or in a pony. The layers made that difficult on even the best of days. Her migraine was coming back, she could feel it starting in the very back of her head reaching onto her round face and curling up around her temples. She sighed again, quietly; now what to do?

She stood with one short leg kicked up on the car door frame and contemplated going to check the lady for a pulse before calling Galleon Fire and Rescue. They were closer than any other outfit, and could get ambulance service there faster, notify the staters or whoever. No way someone that broken and battered-looking lives, she thought; her face was partly covered in half-dried blood, her knees and arms scraped so deeply the blood seemed to be caked an inch thick. Her face was bloodied so much one could hardly see her eyes under them…

The woman in the road jerked up slightly, startling MariJo who now rushed to her side, sliding in soft dirt that framed the ditch behind her. Living in the land of serial killers had been the only reason she hesitated at all. One should not disturb a dead body, right?

Good lord, thought MariJo. "Still alive!"

Gently, an arm under the woman’s neck and one under her thighs, MariJo pushed the tiny woman away from the ditch and onto the road. She removed her light hoodie quickly and put it under the woman’s neck, cradling her head. Patting her jeans pockets, MariJo realized what she needed was in the SUV and quickly got to her feet, heading for her open car door. She dug around the console until she came up with a small but bright flashlight.

Returning to the woman’s side, MariJo realized she wasn’t quite awake; a large bump above her left temple near the top of her head had formed. It looked sharply severe, the size of a robin’s egg. MariJo gently opened the woman’s right eyelid. Grey eyes. Fixed pupils but they seemed to be trembling, like Jell-o.

She shined the light right at the woman’s pupil and the lady sat up fast and hard suddenly, her left hand shoving MariJo back fifteen feet on her buttocks in a slide to the rear of her car. MariJo was too shocked in the moment to feel the road burn she would have later.

What in the absolute hell was that? Adrenalin