Fall

By Jeffery Martin Botzenhart

Only eternal love could cause an angel to reject immortality and fall from grace.

An angel’s passion is endless, as is a demon’s vengeance. When the two collide, hell is unleashed upon Earth.

Alexi, the human son of an angel, finds himself unwittingly drawn into a raging battle between good and evil. After his arrival in Saint Petersburg, as he falls in love with Ekaterina, the daughter of a Russian aristocrat, both of their lives are jeopardized. Only by exiling his son and the woman he loves to safe haven in time, past, present, and future, can the angel attempt to keep them safe from a demon hell-bent on destroying them out of revenge.

From the times of Imperial Russia prior to the First World War, the lovers travel back in time to the American Civil War. Yet war, itself, is hell and neither will find safety in that time. They continue on to early 20th Century London as threats against them intensify. Love, though, is eternal.

PUBLISHER NOTE: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older. Historical Paranormal Romance. M/F Romance. 49,500 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luminosity Publishing LLP
• Release date: Feb 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005167424

Jeffery Martin Botzenhart

I was born on November 9, 1967 in Warren, Ohio and grew up in a country trailer park in Southington Ohio with my two brothers and parents.I currently live in Girard, Ohio with my wife and sons. After graduating from Chalker High School in 1986, I went on to attend Kent State University.Originally, I sought to pursue a degree in education, but changed degrees after a few years in school. After working my way through college for eight years, I graduated in 1994 with a Bachelor’s degree in International Relations.Aside from writing, I also draw and paint. My other passion is soccer. I have proudly been a coach of a soccer team for autistic and special needs players.

Book preview

FALL

The Ages of Grace, Book One

Jeffery Martin Botzenhart

Only eternal love could cause an angel to reject immortality and fall from grace.

An angel’s passion is endless, as is a demon’s vengeance. When the two collide, hell is unleashed upon Earth.

Alexi, the human son of an angel, finds himself unwittingly drawn into a raging battle between good and evil. After his arrival in Saint Petersburg, as he falls in love with Ekaterina, the daughter of a Russian aristocrat, both of their lives are jeopardized. Only by exiling his son and the woman he loves to safe haven in time, past, present, and future, can the angel attempt to keep them safe from a demon hell-bent on destroying them out of revenge.

From the times of Imperial Russia prior to the First World War, the lovers travel back in time to the American Civil War. Yet war, itself, is hell and neither will find safety in that time. They continue on to early 20th Century London as threats against them intensify. Love, though, is eternal.

PUBLISHER NOTE: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older. Historical Paranormal Romance. M/F Romance. 49,500 words.

FALL

The Ages of Grace, Book One

JEFFERY MARTIN BOTZENHART

LUMINOSITY PUBLISHING LLP

FALL

The Ages of Grace, Book One

Copyright © FEBRUARY 2022 JEFFERY MARTIN BOTZENHART

Cover Art based on the Allegory of Time (1896) painting by Luc-Olivier Merson.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this literary work may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without the written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

DEDICATION

I wrote this story seven years ago and placed it aside as I hoped that someday it would be published for readers to enjoy. It is an epic tale of timeless love and enduring faith. If this is the type of story that you, the reader, appreciates, then I dedicate this to you. Enjoy!

PRELUDE

Incense fragranced the air as Yuri entered the somber cathedral. He kept his head shrouded from view by the hood of his red cloak as he walked past numerous rows of pews until he took a seat next to a Russian Orthodox priest, deep in prayer. The priest offered no reaction to Yuri’s presence until he was spoken to.

Does God ever answer your prayers? Yuri questioned him.

I believe that he does, the priest interrupted his silent prayers to answer.

God has forsaken me, Yuri offered.

Why do you say this, my son? Are there sins you wish to confess?

Failure, was Yuri’s single-word reply.

He focused his eyes on the sunlit altar. Shafts of morning light penetrated through ornate stained-glass windows. Suspended dust particles shimmered like celestial stars adorning Heaven. The reflected colors of the windows created a kaleidoscope against the cathedral’s white walls and floor. Yet Yuri’s heart held direct contrast to this, as it was immersed in darkness and despair.

How have you failed, my son?

I have lost sight of someone most precious to me, Yuri answered as he averted his eyes to the sublime statue of an angel. I promised to protect him but have failed.

Is he here in Saint Petersburg? the priest wondered.

I am uncertain of this. If he is here in the city, then he is hidden among legions of demons. You know what I speak of. You have seen this with your own eyes.

A darkness . . . descends upon Russia, the priest agreed, his expression clouded by concern and fear. Those of faith in God will survive the coming tempest, he added, though the anxious tone of his voice betrayed his words.

How can you be sure? Yuri challenged. "Even among the holiest men of Saint Petersburg, there is one who is whispered of and called the mad monk. He is said to have considerable influence with the Czar."

The priest stammered and struggled to respond. Is it profane of him to speak of this man? Yuri thought.

My sight is far greater than yours, with exception to my son, Yuri revealed. He turned his head toward the priest and stared at him from under his hood. Though there was no exchange of words between them, within seconds the priest appeared to understand who he was in the presence of. With his right hand, the priest rendered the sign of the holy trinity and clutched the gold crucifix hung around his neck with his left hand.

I am . . . in the presence of grace, the priest whispered as a tear streamed down his cheek.

And I am an angel on the brink of surrendering my faith to sorrow, Yuri countered. Do you hold hope in your heart? he asked the emotionally overwhelmed priest.

Yes, the priest breathlessly confirmed.

I ask you then to pray for my son. His life hinges on faith alone amidst the darkness that has befallen Russia.

PART ONE

Red

CHAPTER ONE

Saint Petersburg, Russia, January 1914

Alexi gazed out the windows of the carriage as the city of Saint Petersburg passed rapidly by. He had never visited the city before and was felt awe-struck by the grandeur of the government buildings. Though the sun was shining brilliantly in the January sky, winter’s frozen grip held firm. Stately dressed gentlemen escorted well-refined ladies, clad in fur coats, along impressive streets lined with shops selling the latest western imports. He noticed many other carriages as well as several motor cars traveling through the capital. The opulent reputation Saint Petersburg had been bestowed with so far seemed well-deserved.

Alexi’s current duty required accompanying his superior officer, Commander Vladimir Propov, to the home of the under foreign minister for consultations regarding diplomatic difficulties, information few were privileged to. The devastating loss to the Japanese fleet nine years ago had left a damaged image of Russia in the minds of some of her allies. Alexi was only eleven when that war had been lost. Stories were told to him of the bravery of those who survived the naval battle. His father had been in the service of the Czar’s royal navy and now Alexi, himself, followed in his father’s footsteps, albeit with great reluctance. His dreams for his own life, his own future, were to be sacrificed to honor his father.

As the carriage continued its journey through Saint Petersburg the opulence of the government buildings and merchant shops gave way to the more modest dwellings of the middle and lower classes. The sophistication of the aristocrats was replaced with the faces of people who seemed disinterested in anything which did not contribute to everyday survival. There appeared an undeniable melancholy in the expressions of citizens from this part of the city, masks they presented for daily appearance. Alexi noticed the blankness in their eyes and felt sadness for them.

"You have been most quiet since we left the Aurora," Vladimir noted to his assistant.

I apologize, sir. This is my first visit to Saint Petersburg. I was merely observing the city, Alexi responded.

Good! Observation to detail is why I selected you to accompany me to Minister Oleg’s estate in the country.

Alexi held his head up, replying, I am honored by your faith in my abilities. And while the two remained silent for the rest of the journey Alexi continued with his observations, yet not of Saint Petersburg. He noticed an uncontrollable twitch with Vladimir’s right hand as well as how he perspired there in the chilled carriage. Both were highly uncharacteristic for Vladimir. Something greatly troubles him, thought Alexi.

The carriage traveled into the countryside. The meagerly constructed dwellings of the peasants reminded Alexi of the humble home near the Ural Mountains from where he came. His parents had instilled within him hard work ethics and the appreciation of what one has and earns rather than desiring the possessions of others. He was especially close to his mother before she passed away from illness. Seldom ever unhappy, she always voiced her satisfaction and gratitude for the life his father provided for them.

After his father’s return from service in the royal navy only weeks before his mother’s death, his father expressed a determination for Alexi to have a better life than the one provided on the farm. Through his encouragement, he pushed Alexi in the direction of a future he believed would most benefit his son. Any attempt to sway his father from this path proved futile. Alexi remembered the day when he boarded the train to the Black Sea. His father stood on the platform and offered a salute to his departing son, a salute Alexi did not return. Somewhere in the depths of his heart, he knew he would never see his father again. It was possible his father may have shared this same belief.

There it is, Vladimir pointed toward his window.

A large estate appeared upon the horizon. The glaze coating the white snow gave the estate the impression of being a white ocean liner trapped on a frozen sea. The carriage passed through a tree-lined drive, the bare branches providing a sparse canopy overhead for which the sunlight shone down through to create jagged shadow-patterns upon the ground. As they drew closer and closer Alexi grew more astonished by the home’s enormous size. The carriage pulled up to a grand staircase set before the large white doors to the home.

The driver opened the door to the carriage and out stepped Vladimir followed by Alexi. Two members of the household staff emerged through the front doors and made their way to the carriage to collect the luggage. Vladimir climbed the steps with Alexi, still awed by the estate’s massive size, in close pursuit. The doors to the house opened further and out stepped a portly well-dressed gentleman with his hand outstretched.

* * *

Ekaterina sat before a large mirror as she applied powder to her cheeks. From a distance through her bedroom window, she noticed the carriage being drawn toward the estate. She had been forewarned by her parents of the identity of their guest as well as their expectations for her behavior. Next, Ekaterina added color to her lips. If she was to perform for her parents and their guest, then she thought it only fitting to play the part of an actress in preparation for her starring role. Ekaterina ran her hairbrush through her long mane of fiery red hair. The final touch was the addition of shadow to her eyelids to allow her green eyes to convey a sense of mystery.

As she stood with the intention to pull on her green dress, a knock came at her door. Yes, she called out. Her bedroom door opened and in stepped her mother. A look of concern, clearly cast upon her mother’s expression, heightened her growing anxiety over the arrival of their guest.

Well, the carriage approaches, her mother nervously noted. Which dress have you chosen to wear? Ekaterina pointed to the green dress set upon her bed. A fine choice. I believe green is Vladimir’s favorite color. She could sense the tension in her mother’s voice, a tension she failed unsuccessfully to suppress. Ekaterina, I—

Interrupting her, Ekaterina halted the inevitable words she knew her mother would recite. "I understand how precarious the situation is for my father. My behavior shall not be a burden to either of you. I have come to accept my fate to marry Vladimir in the spring, just as Father has requested. My hope, though, is that someday he will recall fond memories of me as his daughter and not as Vladimir’s whore."

A swift slap of her mother’s hand across her cheek was her mother’s response to the last comment. Ekaterina looked her directly in the eyes to witness her mother’s regret of violence against her. The carriage is pulling up now. I imagine you would wish to be at the doors to greet our guest, Ekaterina said. Her mother looked away before leaving her alone in her bedroom. Moments later Ekaterina’s maid entered the bedroom to help Ekaterina with her corset and dress. Olga, I have had a change of heart in regard to the green dress. I would very much like to wear the white dress today. Her maid bowed and removed the green dress from sight as she went to fetch the white dress from the wardrobe.

While she waited for her maid to return, Ekaterina walked over to the partially frosted glass of her bedroom window and gazed down upon the arriving guest. The driver had opened the carriage door and out stepped Vladimir. She felt indifferent to the sight of her future husband. Although tall and somewhat handsome, he also possessed an aura of cruelty in his tone and mannerisms. Just as she thought to glance away, a second guest stepped out of the carriage. Her breath momentarily stopped as she gazed upon the young man dressed in his naval uniform, strikingly handsome with his short, dark hair and tall muscular frame. More than anything else it was his boyish smile which captivated her, especially a dimple adorning his cheek. Truly, she felt spellbound. And as she watched him with utter fascination, he looked up for a moment. Their eyes locked on each other. Ekaterina let out her held breath which fogged the glass and robbed her view from below.

Olga! Where is my dress? I simply must get downstairs to greet our guests. Olga hurried in with the white dress and assisted Ekaterina in the final steps of creating a vision neither Vladimir nor his companion would soon forget.

* * *

Vladimir! We are overjoyed at your safe return, Mikhail Oleg greeted his future son-in-law. Vladimir grasped the outstretched hand of his host. He then turned to his companion.

"Minister Oleg, my premier junior officer from the Aurora, Alexi Valentin, first in his class at the naval academy in Sevastopol." The minister bowed to Alexi, who politely returned the gesture.

Vladimir, dear boy, welcome back, Madam Oleg greeted Vladimir. She kissed him on both cheeks before she robustly embraced him. It was most obvious how Vladimir thrived on the attention.

Again, offering Alexi’s introduction, this time to Madam Oleg, Alexi wondered if he might experience a warm welcome from her as well. However, with Madam Oleg’s failure to even acknowledge his presence, Alexi allowed this thought to vanish as he awkwardly stood there to be ignored by her.

We should move inside before we catch a terrible chill, Madam Oleg insisted. She ushered Vladimir and her husband inside as she continued to pay no attention to Alexi.

As they stepped into the foyer, Alexi whispered to Vladimir, I have never before been inside such a grand home.

The ceiling in the foyer reached cathedral heights and was decorated with a fresco of angels, as well as having a massive crystal chandelier suspended from its center. Sunlight penetrating through large windows turned each dangling crystal into a prism to glaze the