Death of an Angel: Fallen Angel Series, #2

By S.M. Ulibarri

Valeria Jensen, a detective with the Las Vegas Police Department, barely managed to survive her encounter with a vengeful killer, but a powerful new threat has emerged.

Not long after she and her partner, Matthew Briggs, closed the case on the murderer, she is pulled into a very strange world where she encounters her worst nightmare. With death breathing down her neck, she is forced to find a very deadly item for a very deadly man before his patience runs out.

 In a desperate attempt to save her life and the life of everyone she cares about, she must journey with death to encounter some old enemies and uncover some new enemies along the way. With her soul on the line, she may find that not even her angelic powers are enough to prevent the death of an angel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.M. Ulibarri
• Release date: Oct 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215655436

S.M. Ulibarri

My passion has been writing from a very young age. Being surprised by the adventure my characters take me on is what I love about starting a story. I have currently published a young adult trilogy and am currently working on my Fallen Angel Series. I have so many plans for future installments and hope you enjoy the ride,

Book preview

Chapter 1

The musty smell of latex practically smacked me in the face as I walked through the door and the distinctive smell of old people assaulted all my senses. I hated only one place more than a hospital; the assisted living facility. It was the last place in this world I wanted to be, but I had already avoided it long enough. This place had the smell of a hospital, the feel of a hospital, and the lingering stench of death. Unlike a hospital, there was no hope of escape. This was where people came to die and it gave the place a sense of darkness that was impossible to eliminate.

Don’t get me wrong, as far as places went, it was nice. We wouldn’t have allowed my mother to stay otherwise. The building was quite new; the staff was as friendly as they could be, and everything was spick and span. They tried hard to make it feel welcoming, but it hit me every time I walked through those doors. It was like a dark secret; if you weren’t careful, it would envelop your entire being and swallow you whole.

I shuddered despite the warmth of the air. It felt stuffy and hot, which forced me to take off my suit jacket as I made my way uncomfortably down the hall. My steps were silent on the carpeted floors and I passed a game room where they played loud music inside. The patrons sat lazily in their chairs and used a stamp to color in a square on their board as a member of the staff called out a number. Looks like a roaring good time. It’s a shame I have to miss it, I thought sarcastically to myself as I moved out of view.

I knew I shouldn’t be so hard on them. The staff tried to make the lives of the patients the best they could, which was more than I could say for some of the other places we had looked into. They had a designated area where they allowed the patients to sit outside and enjoy the sun during certain hours. There was a time when I watched as a member of the staff made sure that everyone had sunscreen on so they wouldn’t burn. The little things set them apart and ultimately made us choose this place. So far, I didn’t have any complaints about the facility itself, just that it was a hospital for the mentally ill or those on the last legs of their life.  

I sluggishly walked down the hallway, dreading this visit and doing my best to prolong it as long as possible. My brother and I took turns visiting my mother every month, and this month was my turn. I wanted to get it out of the way so I wouldn’t have to do it after Thanksgiving, which was only four days away.

It had been just over a week since people started turning up dead all around the city. At the time, my unwanted partner and I had been working the case trying to figure out who was murdering innocent people and why. We eventually discovered that it had been the university’s professor, Alana Fitz, who, incidentally, was supposed to be helping us with the investigation. Turns out she had a stick up her ass since I had arrested her sister, Aleena, a year prior for torturing people using voodoo dolls. The law heavily frowned on that type of magic.

Aleena Lipkin was taken into custody by the witch’s council, who happened to be the judge, jury, and executioner for the witches, and sentenced to magical castration. Once her power was stripped, it became more than she could bear and she ended up committing suicide, leaving behind a husband and two children. Alana was devastated and blamed me, along with the entire Nephilim race.

Thus, began the start of her journey down a deep, dark, black hole as she started researching a way to kill all Nephilim; a task that’s damn near impossible for a witch to accomplish on her own, and a coven wouldn’t risk it. During her research into the forbidden black arts, she found an incomplete Nephilim trapping symbol and began murdering people attempting to perfect it. If it’s activated with a Nephilim inside, it would be impossible for said Nephilim to escape, or even move. I know, seeing as the bitch trapped me inside one and then summoned the strongest being I have ever come across to kill me.

During her dive into black magic, Alana came across some sort of talisman that had the power to summon a creature that nightmares are made of. I barely survived my first run-in with him and refused to let there be a second. We confronted Alana at the airport as she tried to ditch town, where we arrested her and took possession of the talisman. As soon as I was feeling better, I had taken it to the evidence lockup at the precinct, and that’s where it’s been ever since.

I’ve since spent my spare time trying to find out anything about a creature that could reach inside someone and burn their soul, but I kept coming up empty. It was infuriating. My partner, Matthew Briggs, had a confrontation with him as well that he almost didn’t survive and you would think that between the two of us, we could have found something. There was absolutely no information out there about any such creature and it was bugging the shit out of me. I could only assume the material about him had disappeared, along with anything else that dealt with black magic. That type of magic had been eradicated from our world because of how dangerous it was. That was until Alana got the bright idea to try to bring it back.

Even now, I could tell my soul was still slightly damaged to some degree, but it seemed to be getting better as each day passed. I was able to pull on the divine energy, an angelic force that only the Nephilim had access to, without it burning my soul any further. It just felt strange when I did, like a knee injury. Even though it’s mostly healed you can still remember what it felt like when it was injured and you tend to baby it. I had no idea how much longer it would take until I felt completely whole, but I hoped it would be soon as my ability to use the divine power was still somewhat limited. I couldn’t tell if it was a phantom pain that was holding me back or if something was still wrong with my soul. Only time would tell either way.  

I dragged my feet across the carpeted floor as I made my way down the hallway. I wasn’t in the mood for the visit tonight, or any night. I didn’t want to see her, not like this. I loved my mother and was grateful to her for bringing my brother and me into this world, but I couldn’t bear to look at her sometimes.

She was completely out of her mind and nothing like the woman I wanted to remember; the woman who could light up a room with her smile, or who read to me as I fell asleep in her arms. I never knew who I would find in that room when I came to visit and it was mental torture. It wasn’t her I blamed. It was me. It wasn’t anger or even sadness I felt when I saw her. It was guilt. I understood none of this was her fault, but it was so hard to see her completely out of her mind and know that it was partially my fault.

As I scuffed down the hallway, I appreciated the artwork they placed on the wall to make it feel less like a mental hospital and more like home. Flowers decorated a few of the shelves and they had put pictures up of some of the residents and their families. They had asked my brother and me if we wanted to add our picture to the wall. Valrick didn’t care either way, but I was less than enthusiastic about the idea. I didn’t want to pretend to be happy just so we could slap a picture on the wall and be reminded every time I walked by that it was a lie.

One of the nightly nurses came out of one of the rooms and smiled as she passed by me. My heart just wasn’t in it as I smiled back at her and I’m pretty sure she could tell as her face fell. She understood better than anyone what this place was, as she had probably seen many patients come and go. This wasn’t a place people came to when they wanted to feel good about life. It served as a reminder that everyone would eventually end up like this. Old, alone, and just waiting for death. Yeah, I was in a fantastic mood.

With each passing room, my mood got worse and my sense of dread grew exponentially. The door to room 102 was open, and I peeked inside when I moved passed only to regret that choice. I should have minded my own business, since the sight I witnessed only made me more depressed. Family members surrounded the bed of one of their loved ones, and I could hear multiple people sniffing and sobbing from the hallway. Either someone had passed or they were on their way out. A dark cloud of sadness seemed to envelop this entire place, and I glanced away from the pain inside that room.

I finally reached the door that read 109, which was shut, and took a deep breath. I had stopped right in front of my mother’s room and stared at the blank door as I tried to build up the nerve to open it. My heart pounded with anxiety and anticipation at what I would find inside. I tried to listen for any movement, but there was nothing.

After what felt like forever, I knew I couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer and reached out for the handle, which suddenly sprang into action all on its own. The door swung inward and banged into the doorstop and there was my mother in the doorway, looking quite frazzled.

It’s you! She said surprised, then lowered her voice and whispered, get in here. Quick, before they see you. Her head poked out of the doorframe and she glanced down the hallway with wide, crazy eyes as she checked to make sure we were alone. When she was satisfied, she grabbed my arm tightly and jerked me inside her room. Schizophrenic it was then. Just great.

She had yanked me into a room that was completely devoid of any light as she slammed the door shut. The drapes were pulled over the windows, blocking out any light that might have encroached on her space, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The smell of flowers, dirty clothes, and latex hit me in an odd combination and I wrinkled my nose at the unpleasantness of it. My eyesight was better than most species in complete darkness, but I still needed the time to adjust from the blaring white lights in the hallway to the total black inside her room.  

It took a few moments before I could begin to pick objects out of the darkness and another moment until my eyes had adjusted enough to take in the state of her room. The bed was the only thing in there that wasn’t in complete disarray. It looked like it hadn’t been slept on in weeks.

As for the rest of the room, it was a complete disaster. Books lay everywhere, some open, some tossed aside as if they were meaningless, while some books had been carefully arranged as if they were important. There was plenty of untouched, non-perishable food that looked as if it had come straight out of a vending machine and shoved into every corner and crevice she could find. Hundreds of empty candy wrappers had been thrown about the floor, papers had been scribbled on, then crumpled up and chucked anywhere and everywhere. Then there were other papers with intricate designs placed on top of one another, as if she was putting together some type of puzzle or solving a complicated problem.

My heart sank as I looked around the room and realized she was much worse than the last time I had seen her. If I thought the room was bad, it was nothing compared to my mother. She looked as if she hadn’t bathed in weeks. Her hair was a stringy, greasy mess that stuck to the side of her face. The pink nightgown she wore was rumpled and smelled of body odor, along with something else I couldn’t quite make out. She stared at me with such wild eyes, like an animal in a cage just waiting to pounce. My depression was replaced by anger at the state I found her in. I paid these people to take care of her and if they thought this was acceptable, then they were going to hear very unpleasantly from me how it was anything but.

Until then, I pushed that anger to the back burner to attend to more important things. My mother needed me right now and I felt horrible that it had taken me so long to come and see her again. It was easy to forget these visits weren’t about me.

I looked my mother over and made a mental remark at how similar we would have looked if her eyes weren’t so crazy and she wasn’t so unkept or incredibly thin. It looked like she was on the brink of emaciation as if she hadn’t eaten anything since the last time I had seen her. It was beyond heartbreaking to see someone who was once so young and vibrant become a shell of what she once was.

I remember that when I was young, while she was still my mother, I had a strong desire to be like her one day. Her laugh was intoxicating and contagious to everyone around her. She was always so friendly and willing to do just about anything to help others. She was beloved by everyone that met her and I knew she would have done anything for my brother and me. She had once been my security; my home. I desperately missed that version of my mother more than I could ever express, and it killed me to know that I could never have that back.

A part of me hated the angels for this. It was awful what the angelic power did to mortals, and I could see why it was outlawed for an angel and a human to have any kind of relationship. The results were beyond disturbing.  

I reached out to touch her arm, and she violently jerked away the moment my hand touched her shoulder. I tried not to let it get to me and asked softly, when was the last time you had a decent meal? She got a crazy look in her eyes and she stared at me with distrust. I sighed, then bent down and picked up an empty wrapper, attempting to tidy it up.

Angrily, she reached out and snatched the wrapper from my hand with a look of betrayal on her face, then held it up against her chest, guarding it. These are mine. What do you want with them? She snapped at me.

I don’t want anything with them, mom, I told her, my tone frustrated as my depression crept back up. It’s garbage, just like everything else in here, I gestured around the room as if that should have explained everything to her. The distrust on her face was almost palpable, and I grumbled under my breath. I did not have the patience for this tonight.

Can we at least get you cleaned up? When was the last time you showered? Her eyebrows raised in question and she stared at me like I was speaking a different language. My tone was far more frustrated than I meant it to be when I said, a bath, mom. You do remember what a bath is, don’t you?

Of course, I know, she snapped, but the look in her eyes didn’t instill in me very much confidence that she did.

You can keep the garbage if you want, I said, gesturing to the wrappers in her hand, but only if you let me help you get cleaned up. Deal?

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion and she took a step back from me, then twisted her face into a snarl. You’re one of them. You’re trying to steal it, aren’t you? I won’t let you have it, not when I’m so close to figuring it out.

Are you talking about these? I asked, frustrated, as I reached down and picked up one of the papers she had furrowed and thrown away. These meaningless scribbles you’ve drawn on crumpled-up papers?

Don’t touch that! She shouted, then lunged at me, her arms reaching out frantically for the paper. I allowed her to rip it from my hands and she held it protectively against her chest as she had done with the candy wrapper. This was by far the worst I had ever seen her.

Mom, I took a step toward her, my tone pleading when I said, don’t you recognize me? Don’t you know who I am?

Oh, I know who you are all right. You’re a thief and you’ve come here to steal it from me. My heart sank at her inability to recognize me. I knew I should visit more than once a month. The proof of that was standing right in front of me. I just couldn’t bear to see her like this, since it broke me every time I did.

I forced my frustration back and allowed my tone to soften as I reminded myself it wasn’t her fault. Her mind was broken and it would only get worse. With my hands held up in surrender, I took a slow step in her direction. She backed up with a panicked look on her face, but I didn’t stop. I took one slow step after another until I was standing directly in front of her. I’m not a thief. I’m here to help you keep it safe. I placed my hands gently on hers, which she kept fisted around the papers up against her chest.  

She looked ready to run, but she hadn’t. I watched as her eyes slowly lost the fear and her face gradually softened into something I partially recognized. She looked me directly in the eyes and her voice sounded hopeful as she asked, did he send you?

I didn’t know who she was talking about, but I would willingly play along. I figured the easiest way to get her to comply was to buy into the delusion she was living until I could help talk some sense into her. I smiled sweetly at her, yes, he sent me to help you keep it safe.

Her once beautiful face brightened, and she gave off a glow I hadn’t seen in a long time. I knew he wouldn’t forget me. I knew it. She seemed so happy and it broke my heart. It was false happiness and wouldn’t last. I just had to make the most of it while I still could.

I raised one of my hands to her face and placed my palm gently on her cheek. How could he forget you? Now, will you let me help you get cleaned up? You don’t want to see him looking like a mess, right?

Her face changed from hope to panic. You don’t mean he’s coming here? I nodded, and she finally dropped the garbage in her hands. She jerked away from me and reached up to grab her hair instead, then paced the room frantically.

Damnit. That wasn’t the effect I thought my words would have. I grabbed her shoulders to stop her from pacing and said calmly, we have plenty of time to get ready. Remember, I’m here to help you, but I need you to do what I say, ok?

Her eyes crinkled, and she stared at me as if deep down she knew who I was and was trying to recall those memories. After a moment, she nodded, and I took that as consent. I gently led her to the bathroom, then helped her out of the light pink nightgown and tossed it into the hamper just outside of the door. She was so thin I could almost see her bones in some places and my anger flared up again. I had to rein it in for later since I didn’t want her to notice and become spooked again. I grabbed hold of her hand, then led her to the bathtub and carefully helped her step inside. She sank slowly to the bottom until she was sitting much like a child would and I brushed the hair out of her face.

Slowly, so I didn’t freak her out, I turned the faucet handle until the water flowed into the tub and, once it was warm enough, flipped the switch to close the drain.

Water filled up the tub gradually, and she winced once it touched her skin, but otherwise stayed calm. There was a cup already on the lip of the tub and I reached for that and then dipped it in the water before I carefully poured it over her head. She hardly moved as the water ran down her body. Instead, her eyes fixed on me, unblinking.

It was a little uncomfortable the way she looked at me and I tried not to let it creep me out as I continued to pour water over her. I wondered what she was thinking, but wasn’t brave enough to ask for fear it wouldn’t be what I wanted. I wanted her to recognize me for the first time since I was young. I wanted her to realize that I was her daughter, her flesh and blood. More than anything, I desperately wanted her to remember that she loved me. It wasn’t right for a mother to forget her children, and it crushed my soul in a way no creature could ever do.

The shampoo had a fruity fragrance that filled the air as I dumped it into my hand and lathered it in her hair. I brought this for her the last time I had been here. It was still over half full, which led me to believe it had hardly been used in two months. There was another thing to add to my list of grievances.  

Once I finished washing her hair, I put the conditioner in and let it sit while I grabbed a washcloth and began scrubbing down her body. In the last few minutes, her eyes hadn’t left my face, and it unnerved me. It wasn’t until I lifted her arm to wash underneath that she finally said in a low and warm voice, I know you. My heart stopped for a few beats and I froze in place. The craziness was gone from her voice, and she sounded almost melodious.

You do? I whispered as hope filled me.

You seem familiar to me. It feels like we’ve met before. I could feel a tear threatening to escape from the corner of my eye. She continued to stare at me without another word, and I didn’t want to push it. When she finally looked away, my heart sunk and I quickly wiped the streak of water from the side of my face. Once I had rinsed the conditioner from her hair, I stopped briefly to get a good look at her. It was amazing how a simple bath could transform someone. She already reminded me more of the woman I once knew now that she was clean.

I grabbed a towel and helped her from the tub. Carefully, to make sure she didn’t slip on the tile, I draped the towel around her body after drying her hair somewhat then said, wait here, ok? I’ll be right back. I turned around then exited the bathroom and made my way to the dresser in her room to find her a clean nightgown. When I turned back around, she was standing in the doorframe of the bathroom without a towel.

I rushed over and helped her into the nightgown so she wasn’t so exposed then led her over to the bed. She didn’t fight me this time as she quietly laid down and allowed me to pull the covers up over her. I looked around for the books I had brought her and found them carefully placed in her bookcase. They seemed to be one of the few things she had deemed worthy enough to take care of.

I immediately recognized the spine of one of them and reached out for it. I ran my hand carefully over the hardback cover and read the title Pride and Prejudice. It was one of her favorite books and one I had read to her many times over the years. The cover was worn, showing how beloved it was, and I pulled a chair over to her bed. I sat down slowly, my eyes never leaving hers.  

Would you like me to read this to you? I asked, holding the book out so she could see it.

She had been watching me intently, and her eyes moved away from mine to the book. She stared at it for a moment, then reached out for it and I let her take it from my hand. She glanced it over while her brows scrunched together in thought. She handed it back hesitantly, then nodded her head and settled into her pillow.  

After bringing the book back to me, I opened the first page and began, it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of good fortune, must be in want of a wife. My mother sighed and closed her eyes at the familiar words. When I read to her, it was the most peaceful I had ever seen her. I wasn’t sure if it was because she had read these books hundreds of times, which made them familiar to her, or if it was the sound of my voice that comforted her. Either way, I was just happy she had found some semblance of peace.

I couldn’t push back the guilty feeling that rose through me as I continued reading and vowed that I would visit her more than once a month. She seemed better when I was around, and I no longer had confidence in the facility’s ability to care for her. If I had to make more appearances to make sure she got the care she deserved, I would make that sacrifice for her. After all, she sacrificed everything for me. It was the least I could do.

A few hours had passed from the time I began reading to her and my voice had become scratchy and dry. My mother had already been asleep for a few minutes and yet I continued to read. I liked to see the peacefulness that encompassed her body as my voice flowed into the silence of the room. While I read, I caught glimpses of a smile or giggle at certain parts of the book and it reminded me of a child, so innocent and sweet. Those were the memories I wanted to remember.

When my throat began to hurt and I couldn’t keep going, I quietly shut the book after marking the page I was on so I could continue from there the next time, then set it carefully back where I had gotten it. After I bent down and kissed her on the forehead, I began to tidy up her room. It took a little while to sort through all the papers and keep anything that might look valuable to her. I threw away a ton of garbage, organized her drawers, and put the rest of her books back in the bookcase.

When I finished tidying up, I carefully shut the door to her room and found myself back in the hallway with my eyes squinted. The bright light of the hallway was almost blinding from the darkness of her room. I had almost found the darkness comforting in a way, especially when compared to the loudness of the bright hallway. Now that I was no longer with my mother, I could feel the anger I had buried attempting to claw its way to the surface. Time to see a nurse and let her have it.

I stormed down the hallway to the front of the building, where I knew the nurse’s station was. There was a receptionist’s desk to check in guests and help answer questions, but behind that was an office where the nurse’s worked from. I didn’t bother asking the receptionist for permission to enter and stormed past her, only to hear her say, hey, what do you think you’re doing?

I flung the door open and glared at a startled nurse. We need to talk, I said angrily as the receptionist stopped right behind me and looked to the nurse for direction. After the initial shock wore off, I could tell she recognized me and she nodded to the woman that everything was fine. The receptionist hesitated before she turned in a huff and headed back to her station.

Come in, Ms. Jensen. Please, take a seat. I’ve been expecting you. She gestured to one of the extra chairs. As far as offices went, this wasn’t a very big one. It had just enough room for a chair, a desk, and another chair. There were filing cabinets in the back up against the wall where I assumed they kept all the patient files. I was tempted to force my way past her and find my mother’s, but I resisted. At least for now.

I plopped down angrily in the hard chair and glared at the woman. She was wearing pink scrubs that were a tad too small which caused her stomach to pooch out and hang below the waistline. She was also very well endowed which caused the chest of her scrubs to stretch uncomfortably. She looked old in her late fifties and had the typical old lady haircut that looked like it belonged to a boy. It did nothing to shape her round, wrinkled face and she just looked plain tired. I remembered interviewing with her while we were still deciding on facilities for my mother. I had liked her at the time but was beginning to question my judge of character.

I can only assume you would like to discuss your mother, she said tiredly.

I tried to keep my anger in check as I said, you assume correctly. The guilt I felt must have been festering inside me because I felt the need to continue with, I know I’m not here as often as I should be, but in case you’ve forgotten, I am a detective with the LVPD. I work very long hours and I expect my mother to be taken care of when I can’t be here. That’s why you get a check from my brother and me every month.

We’ve tried. Believe me, we’ve tried. She sounded almost as frustrated as I felt. It happened about two months ago, after your last visit. She didn’t say it in a rude or judging manner, but guilt shot through my heart all the same. She started to taper off her meals. At first, it was just a few here or there, but after your brother’s last visit, she almost stopped eating altogether. She has had some occasional lucid moments where we find it easier to deal with her. It wasn’t until the last few days that she shut and barricaded her door. She won’t allow anyone in to see her?

What do you mean lucid moments? And why the hell didn’t myself or my brother get a call about this? I could feel the flames of the fire being fanned, and it was getting harder to keep my anger in check.

Up until a few days ago, we believed it was something we could handle. We saw you scheduled a visit for tonight and thought it best we discuss this after you had seen her for yourself.

My head started to hurt. Weren’t they considered the experts? Why was this up to me to figure out? Do you have any suggestions? I asked as I rubbed my forehead in preparation for the oncoming headache.

There are more drastic measures we could implement, but we don’t like to use them unless it becomes necessary for her safety or the safety of others. I think that right now the best course of action would be to start her with some medication, which might help stabilize her mood.

I was extremely against medication. There wasn’t a pill out there that could fix what was plaguing my mother. I didn’t see the point of pumping her full of pointless chemicals that might do more harm than good. Valrick, my twin brother, didn’t have a problem with it. I had been the one fighting it the entire time, but maybe I was being selfish about it. She had seemed much worse this time and if it helped, then I might just have to suck it up.

What kind of medication do you suggest? I asked, already feeling defeated.

The nurse seemed almost relieved, and I got the sense she expected me to blow up on her. "Well, we would start her off with Anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, and anti-psychotic