Waite on the Blind Angel: The Celestial Wars, #2

By John Campbell

An awesome rollercoaster ride packed with a plethora of suspense, a supremely EVIL spirit, and one flawed but irresistible-to-love hero! A defining gamechanger for not only the fiction category but for MULTIPLE genres. In short, if you're an avid reader...you NEED THIS BOOK! —Larry Roy

 

5 out of 5 stars! A true classic is born. This will be a movie one day! —Tank

 

Momma always told me when I find myself in a hole it's time to stop digging, but between the Nephilim, the Cyclops, and the Dragon – I can't seem to find daylight!

To make matters worse, a fallen archangel has shown up searching for one of his missing brethren. Known as The Great Deceiver, this dark angel loves to play the kind of games that cost men their souls. He gives me with an unholy choice – Save my best friend Molly, or save my city.

 

1.      Waite on the Ripper – a hyper-intense roller-coaster-ride down a dark highway

2.      Waite on the Blind Angel – a dangerous cat-and-mouse-game with a fallen archangel

3.      Waite on the Hero's Journey – an out-of-this-world parachute jump—without the chute

4.      Waite on the Angel of Death – a black-magic-showdown with an entire planet

5.      Waite on the Trail of Terror  – the ride through a house of horrors to die for

6.      Waite on the Antichrist – an end to Harmon's world and the real beginning of

 

The Celestial Wars - The soul-blessed worlds will never be the same.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Creative Now
• Release date: Oct 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215295915

John Campbell

I love good stories. I remember exactly how I felt when I first read classics like Lord of the Rings, Stranger in a Strange Land, and the Foundation trilogy. I've been writing almost since I started reading. I performed the poems at Sixth Street's Chicago House that eventually became A Week of Years. Then my son came along, and I joined a tech revolution. During two decades at Dell, I accumulated a pocketful of good stories, and Riding on the Coattails of Genius was born. My new series, The Celestial Wars, is set in Austin,  where I've spent the best part of my life. In the first novel, Harmon Waite is a homegrown detective befriended by a pair of Nephilim warriors who help him hunt an ancient evil. Before the twelve novels in this arc are done Waite's realities will be shredded by evils beyond imagination. Get ready for a wild ride down supernatural highways.

Book preview

Waite on the Blind Angel Revised Edition (The Celestial Wars Book 2)

A Supernatural Fantasy Thriller

John Campbell

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The Creative Now

Copyright © 2022 by John Campbell

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

1. The Monster Trap

2. Shades of Bruce Lee

3. The Blind Angel

4. The Giant, Invisible, Death-Ray-Dealing Monster

5. Cornering a Colossus

6. The Molly Trap

7. Lost and Found

8. Waite on The Cyclops

9. Adventures in Another World

10. Tripping Another Trap

11. The Son of Satan Trap

12. Gargrom is a Hero

13. The Kidnap Trap

14. The Ghost Trap

15. Where I Fear to Tread

Waite on the Hero's Journey: The Celestial Wars Book Three

About Author

Chapter one

The Monster Trap

Out in the rolling hill country, a giant figure rose out of a still-smoking crater. Nearly thirty feet tall, it was encased in a black suit of armor that glowed redly from the heat of its journey between worlds. The figure held a massive longsword openly in its gloved right hand. It stood still as stone for a time, gazing into the sky. Then it turned to face northwest and began a long but relentlessly steady journey toward the city of Austin. As it walked, its form shimmered, then disappeared from view.

Out on Lake Travis, a mountain of a man, a Cherokee Indian named Smoke on Distant Mountain, the son of the son of an angel, with ancient eyes and a long, bold nose set in a craggy face, sat fishing below the west-most dam. His boat was top-notch, a well-rigged vessel that would have been at home on the ocean. He was reeling a catfish up from the depths when he suddenly paused. The fish struggled uselessly against his strength while he stared south, listening to some inner prompt. Long moments passed. Then he shook himself, finished reeling in the fish, dropped it in an over-large ice chest strapped to the back of his craft, started the motor, and headed directly toward the dock where his big sedan was parked.

He backed his car onto the concrete ramp and loaded his boat onto the trailer with unhurried efficiency. Then he pulled a pair of tomahawk axes out of his trunk and laid them on the front seat. Exiting the parking lot, he pointed the nose of his blue monster of a car, a Hudson Hornet he’d proudly owned since 1952, south along Highway 620.

Following the curving highway, Smoke hugged the western shoreline of Lake Travis, continued past the retired-rich-enough community of Lakeway, then turned right onto Bee Cave Road. A few miles later, he swung right again to merge onto Highway 71. That highway cut a diagonal line through what had been a limestone seabed two hundred and sixty million years ago. Sometime after the water receded, tectonic forces buckled the limestone upward into the modern hill country landscape, with its wave upon wave of rolling hills.

Periodically glancing to his left, Smoke continued along 71 for about eight miles. He came to a flyspeck of a town called Spicewood, took a long, hard look down a narrow country road with a sign that read Reimers-Peacock, turned left, and followed the pavement until the concrete ran out. He kept his big car bouncing along the dirt for several more miles until he finally stopped and climbed out, axes in hand.

He stood squinting into the distance, paying close attention to the strength of what he felt. Then he leaned back against the door of his sedan. Axes held comfortably in crossed arms; he remained relaxed but ready. For almost an hour, he waited serenely, as unmoving as the mountain he resembled. Then tension crept with a slow grind over his massive frame. His eyes narrowed to slits, and he stood away from his vehicle, uncrossing his arms. The landscape remained utterly still and empty.

Smoke began circling to his left, using the shadows under the tall oaks to mask his presence. His eyes, all this time fixed south, began tracking east as he kept his face turned toward the evil he sensed. He charged with a sudden mighty war cry and threw the ax in his right hand. The head clanged loudly as it bounced off a giant black form that shimmered into, then immediately back out of sight.

Running full speed toward where he’d seen the enormous figure, Smoke suddenly threw himself to the ground and skidded on his stomach, rocks scraping his elbows. He rolled sideways and was up again, backpedaling furiously. The giant flickered into view—the sword Smoke had somehow avoided swinging back to the ready. Smoke threw his other ax. It, too, clanged off the armor, doing no damage.

For a moment, the two giants stood poised, appraising each other, then a red beam appeared in the armored figure’s visor. Smoke turned and ran, long, leaping strides that put him back among the trees. An intense humming filled the air, and a narrow beam of light shot out from the helmet’s visor. It hit a gnarly old oak Smoke had ducked behind, and the shockwave from the exploding tree threw the big Indian off his feet.

Dazed but still aware, Smoke levered himself off the ground. Directly between him and where the black armored figure had stood, the splintered base of a tree remained. After swatting him, the monster evidently forgot about Smoke and resumed its journey toward Austin. The angel’s grandchild moved out of the trees and peered northwest, where he could still sense the creature’s ancient aura. He pondered the situation. It didn’t take him long to decide he needed heavier weaponry and reinforcements.

Smoke climbed back into his Hudson, found an open enough spot to make a wide turn, and headed back toward the highway. He glanced over when he felt himself drawing even with the creature but didn’t expect to see anything through the trees. The wooded countryside looked undisturbed. Smoke calculated the direction and thought the city of Austin might be in trouble. Yeah, his teammates would want to know about this ASAP.

Chapter two

Shades of Bruce Lee

The continuous clash of steel rang in the morning air. Despite the advantage of my living blade, I was reduced to parrying frantically as the silver-haired vixen’s sword came at me with blinding speed. Her blade unerringly found vital spots I left unprotected. Sweat streaming down my face, arm tiring, I did the only thing I could—I cheated.

Slowing time, I took two steps left, then dropped back into normal time and turned my blade to whack it flat against her backside. Impossibly, her sword was already there, deflecting mine, and I felt a stinging pain on my right butt-check. Yowling, I jumped back, disengaging from that one-sided fight. Eirian lowered her guard and gave me a scintillatingly nasty smile. Sheesh, I thought, she’s not even perspiring.

Harmon, you defend when you ought to attack. Defense should be your last resort, not your first. Always leverage your opponent’s attacks to create openings.

I grimaced. Makes sense, but you never stop attacking.

Exactly, Eirian replied smugly. You defend, I attack. You attack me. I intercept your attack and turn it back into my own attack. The daughter of an angel, Eirian was blessed with a long life. Her tall, lean beauty was from another age, dark blue eyes highlighting an angularly swept face, softened by baby doll lips. I didn’t quite know when she was born, but I did know she’d been a master swordswoman for well over half a millennium.

The six months I’d spent under her tutelage was barely enough to dent the surface of her repertoire. I was learning as fast as possible, but for now, distraction seemed a better strategy. As she waited, relaxed and ready, her blessed blade Dyrnwyn at low guard, I said, You know that sounds like Bruce Lee’s teachings, don’t you?

She lowered her sword. Bruce Lee? Who is that?

I raised an eyebrow. This was going to be fun. "Mr. Lee developed a fighting style called Jeet Kune Do, which means: The Way of the Intercepting Fist. It’s remarkably similar to what you’re describing. According to many people, he was the best fighter on the planet. He also made some pretty cool movies. He even wrote a book called the Tao of Jeet Kune Do."

Eirian looked disgusted. An actor? That makes no sense.

I grinned. That’s the modern world for you, and actually, it’s was, not is. Bruce Lee died about fifteen years ago, at the height of his power and fame.

Eirian snorted. Assassinated, surely.

Some people think so.

Do you have his book?

"I believe I do. Happy to loan it to you if you want to make a detour