Mother of the Fallen: Universe of the Trinity

By J.R. Manga

"HELL HAS NO FURY LIKE A MOTHER SCRONED"

 

Detective Garcia is plunged into a world of betrayal and darkness. Ritualistic murders are plaguing the city, and she is unknowingly linked to these phenomena. Demons are real, and they threaten the life of her son. What would a mother do to protect her child, what steps would she take to keep them safe? Natalia will have to answer these questions like any other parent, but the answers will take her down a path of blood and torment, a path she may never be able to come back from. This path may lead Natalia Garcia into the pit of Hell itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: VHS READER
• Release date: Oct 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223684251

Book preview

Mother of the Fallen

CONTENTS

Universe of the Trinity

Sensitivity Notice

Dedication

The Prophecy

Prologue

Part I

An Alternate World

Note

A Kings End

Natalia’s Diary

At your stations please

A Knight’s Secret Diary

Father Badass

Note

Dark Magi

Informer

Night Terror of the 7th

Journal

The Devil’s Trinity

Thanks for Calling

Man Hunter

Mission Failure

Diary Entry

The Confession of Rosalia Garcia

Dante’s Guide

A Kings Fall

Local Paper

The Holy Order

The Bishop’s Notes

Looking Down The Barrel

W Note

Deadman’s Wonderland

CityLife Digital News

The House of Magic

Silent Cell

The Letter

The Theory

Sisterhood

We got a runner!

Transformation Tuesday

I am but a Shepard

The Interlude

(Davonte’s Diary)

Second Entry

Third Entry

Fourth Entry

Fifth Entry

Part II

The New Knights

The Holy Knight Textbook

The Clergyman Hotline

The Text

Jack Bauer

Almost Midnight

The Aftermath

Father Martinez’s Diary

The Garcia Ritual

Note

A Mother’s Wrath

The Apostle Paul

The Inferno

Devil’s May Cry

Epilogue

The End

Thank You Note

A special thanks to these talented individuals!

Works by the author

1. Magenta Skies: ROTB

2. Magenta Skies

3. Midnight City

4. The Blood God

5. Copyright

UNIVERSE OF THE TRINITY

Novels, short stories, and audio dramas that are part of one connecting arc, each spanning across the stars, transcending space & time itself.

The subject matter and themes used in this book may be sensitive to some

Reader discretion is advised

For Milly

There’s no limit to a woman’s strength and there is no limit to how much I love you.

The gates of Hell will open to the mortal realm if the hero of demonic birth is not yet born. The journey of this hero will start with many yet end with one. Not even God could account for his divine creation. If conditions are met, this hero of man will end Lucifer’s reign, though not with the aid of Heaven’s Angels, for I have foreseen the destructive path he would dare to tread. His path will be intertwined with an Overfiend, the deadly constructor, the king of the Abyss. Drogo’s heir.

The Devil’s Bible – BCE

PROLOGUE

Natalia hated her return home from school, especially lately, especially with Momma Rosalia being the way she was. She heard the strange sounds at night, the voices that didn’t sound like her momma or papa. Her sweet momma that made chilaquiles almost every morning before she went to school, her beautiful mother that always had that polaroid smile whenever she saw her. There was a time she detested school, but now she loves it, it’s the only peace she has anymore. Returning home means her momma becoming irritable by the slightest things. She doesn’t even look her in the eyes anymore. Her stare seems devoid of emotion, as if something deep within is missing, like the light that brings life to a person had departed from her body entirely. But Natalia caught sight of something in her mother’s absent glare, and though her youthful age could never decode the emotion, she was fearful of it, uncomfortable, producing a somewhat defensive response when in the presence of her own mother. Which became less often. Any excuse to be away from her she’d happily take. Her father made the dinners now, kept in the fridge and left for her to heat up. Her mother no longer keeps a fond expression for the things she loves, no longer plants or maintains her little patch of roses in the garden. This perfect woman now needs her bed as soon as she wakes; forgetting the basic care of her own child, which meant her daughter staying with friends or neighbours. That was when the rumours began. She used to wear flowery pink dresses that made her look like a Renaissance painting in the sunlit kitchen - on those sweltering summer days. How she moved from stove to sink in a flawless motion, almost graceful. Now, from dusk till dawn, she wears stain-white dressing gowns, and walks as though a great pain has befallen her. She looks sad, depressed, angry. Her unwashed hair and clothes emit a musty, unpleasant smell; something akin to damp and despair. Her papa says she is ill, she will be okay, but he’s always working. He doesn’t understand. Maybe owning a bar and seeing depressed patrons all day had made him insensitive to these unpleasant truths. But he will learn sooner than expected that his wife does not accommodate any illness. She is depressed, and not for reasons of normal circumstance. Something weighs her down, and many suspect that the cause of her recent decline is sourced in a dimension that houses wicked things.

The locals would give Natalia quick glances as she left the house. Her school wasn’t far, so she usually walked with friends. But the quick glances soon became long, discomforting leers. Lately, her so-called friends were nowhere to be seen on their school runs; they were missing when she tried looking for them. Rumours circulated amongst her classmates, and then, even her teachers. The word ‘possession’ was whispered many times. Local doctors in this Mexican town of one-and-a-half-thousand were logical yet superstitious. At the request of the newly aware husband, a doctor examined his wife, but could not find what was wrong with this healthy twenty-eight-year-old woman. The little girl listened to her papa’s plea; telling the doctor that he sees his wife staring into the mirror every morning, that she is there for hours just staring, as if what she sees is not her own reflection. She spends an unusual amount of time in the cellar, she has lost even more weight through loss of appetite, her constant mood swings have become violent at times, she would even break things over minor disagreements. Not to mention, the mysterious deaths around town. Her papa never even noticed that his bar was becoming less populated as the weeks went by. It took a customer he only knew in passing to tell him what was happening in his own home. This customer had an alcohol problem, and yet never entered the bar before then. He was the lonely sort, the one that changes after being in the army. Antonio knew him like you would know most people in a small town. Through gossip. Which was (the ex-military man married a wild-looking gringo.) The customer’s wife must have given him a serious ultimatum. Me or the booze. Maybe it was fate or a strange coincidence this man was drinking that day, because his wife died of a stroke. She was a fit and healthy woman, just like Antonio’s wife, the alcoholic blurted out. ‘So how could she die from a damn stroke!?’ The customer’s eyes were a watery brown and bloodshot from the sleepless nights, and his reformed liver-killing habit. He wore a black and white trucker hat, checkered red shirt, and held a thick black moustache. He drank his beer, and the froth would remain on his facial hair, until he went to the bathroom, which he did frequently. His daughter went to the same school as Natalia, so it wasn’t long before the hearsay reached his ears as well. ‘Talk of your wife being the cause of this,’ he said with a wavy slur. ‘There’s been another death in town a few months back. What do you say to that, ese?’ he asked, narrowing his lids accusatorily. A puzzled expression painted Antonio’s face, and he was suddenly open to the possibility of something other than illness or depression afflicting his beautiful wife. The town folk were a religious and superstitious people, and Antonio was no exception to this rule. Antonio Garcia, the mildly overweight bar owner that everyone loved. He had dense, coal-coloured hair, with one strand kept down in remembrance of his youth. He was tall in stature, and his perfect, sun-tanned skin even made the women of the town jealous. The Mexican James Dean they used to call him. It was in his own bar that he met Natalia’s mother, Rosalia. He thought she was a model or a goddess. He had not recalled that they attended the same school. How could he? She was the weird geeky kid, but transformed into a stunning woman when he saw her again years later. She was kind, spiritual, and represented everything good in a person. That was the real reason he ignored the signs, the real reason he did not want to face what was happening to his beloved wife. Easy to think time would heal a wound, whatever it may be. The customer was still glaring at Antonio, awaiting a worthy reply. ‘You know how stupid you sound?’ he said, cleaning a glass with a raggedy cloth. ‘My wife is ill, nothing more. She goes to church most Sundays. But I admit, we have been lax in speaking to our dear Lord and Father recently. So, do me a favour, say hi for me, will ya, ese?’

The customer knitted his brows, then began laughing hysterically. But Antonio had felt that something was amiss. He could not put this off forever. He called the doctor that same afternoon. During an examination at the local practice in town, Dr. Martinez could not diagnose anything wrong with Rosalia Garcia. Her blood was normal, nothing showed on her scans. Urine, vision, and hearing were all fine. No indication of an infection, no sign of a genetic disorder, no cancers, or viruses; yet Rosalia was hot to the touch, and her body was shutting down for no medical reason at all. It was baffling. They even travelled to Mexico City to see a specialist, who evidently had no clue what was happening to her either. They wanted to keep her in the hospital for observations, but Antonio refused. He knew in his heart of hearts there was nothing natural about her condition. All they could do now was turn to God. Dr. Martinez rang the priest himself. An easy call, as they were brothers.

The Garcia family returned home. Antonio put his wife to bed, and laid a cold wet towel upon her sizzling forehead. He filled a bucket of ice-cold water and placed it beside her. It was a Mexican summer, yet the house was freezing. Before eight-year-old Natalia went to bed, she kissed her momma goodnight, but felt something was different about her. Whatever sinister sense she was picking up from her bed-bound parent had scared her profoundly, but she put on a brave face for her father. She only kissed her because her papa asked her to. He also asked that she pray for her momma. Especially this night. Everything was on the first floor in the Garcia household. Lime green painted walls, oak furniture throughout, family pictures everywhere you looked. It was a beautiful home, a home of love and devotion to the Lord. So why would this happen here, to these wonderful people. Father Martinez ruminated this as he walked through the hallway, passing Natalia’s bedroom. Her door was closed, but she was still awake. Natalia sat up and pressed her little ear to the wall. Her parents’ bedroom was on the other side. The priest and doctor, whom she recognized before her father let them in, entered their bedroom. Natalia heard her mother wailing relentlessly not fifteen minutes before they arrived, but her voice had changed to a man’s. It was bass-deep and terrifying. With a clear mind Natalia realized it was not a man’s voice at all. No man could sound like that. Never in a million years. She heard shouting from the priest. Her mother’s bed rattled and smashed against the floor, like it was dropped from a considerable height. She heard the doctor, the priest, and her father yell something in unison. The more they yelled, the louder the banging and wailing became. Sounds of an animal roaring sent shivers down Natalia’s spine. It was dark and the lights kept flickering, casting weird moving shadows on the ceilings. Then the smell came, the worst smell ever, like off meat. She covered her nose as the decrepit scent lingered in the air, seeping through the thin surfaces of the house. She looked out her window and saw her neighbour’s porch lights turning on, but people were already gathering. The neighbours were bawling something outside, but it was hard to make out. Natalia had to close her eyes and really concentrate on what the neighbours were chanting. The word ‘Demonio,’ entered her ears clearly. She knew what a Demonio was, as the priest spoke of such things in church. Why were they chanting this? Were they speaking of her mother? The house shook even more furiously, knocking Natalia to the other side of the bed. Her door swung open at that point, like someone kicked it in, and their family portraits didn’t just drop from the walls, it was as if an invisible force was throwing them. An even louder bang reverberated in the bedroom. What on earth was that!? thought Natalia, as she tried desperately to balance herself. Multiple knocks at the front door made the doctor come rushing out. He had a cut on his right cheek, and a tear in the right arm of his white medical jacket, like vicious claw marks. He ran past Natalia’s room, letting in the two policia. One female and one male. The female officer entered Natalia’s pink flowered bedroom, startling her. The officer said her mother will be okay, and took her to the car. She gave Natalia a fruit soda from the glove compartment. It was still cold. The nice lady-officer told her to watch the car, she’s a big girl, and Natalia is in charge while she goes back inside. The officer saluted her before leaving. Natalia liked this action from the policewoman, and returned the gesture with a big smile, almost forgetting what was transpiring.

Natalia must have fallen asleep, because she was awakened by one of the grownups knocking on the policia car window. He indicated that the commotion had stopped and the ambulancia had arrived. The male paramedics in their dark green overalls entered the house with only one medical bed. Why would they need that? Natalia’s heart was beating out of her pink pyjamas. Her favourite headband was attached to her left wrist. She remembered her father giving it to her, how he told her it was special, that only princesses could wear it. She tied up her long blonde hair and lifted herself up to look in the rear-view mirror. She quickly checked herself, as she did not want her momma or papa to know she was sleeping. She rubbed the sleep from her big brown eyes and wiped the drool from her light brown cheek. She tried opening the car door when she saw the stretcher approaching, but the door was locked. She slammed her tiny hands against the glass, crying out for her parents. Her neighbours stood around the car, touching the glass to offer comfort. Her mother was in the gurney, carried-out by the doctor and paramedic. Her mother’s eyes were closed, but she saw movement from her immobile parent. So why are the others still in the house? This was the moment that shaped Natalia forever. Being in a police car, assessing situations, drawing logical conclusions, as a good detective should. Seeing things quickly, understanding the bigger picture. Natalia knew something wasn’t right. Someone was hurt, badly, that’s why they’re taking so long. She had to look at the possibilities. There was only one space for the ambulance, they didn’t send two vehicles. So why was the other paramedic still in the house? Natalia shouted, then bellowed. She hit the car window in a panicked beat. She saw people. Another bed was approaching. Is that my parent’s mattress!? This time carried by the other paramedic and male police-officer. The body was covered in a black sheet that remained silent on the front deck. Natalia cried a river that flowed onto her lap. Even though she thought it was a sin, she hoped it was someone else under the rippling sheet. Anyone but my papa! Only the slight breeze gave it any motion. An illusion to trick a child into believing that life still existed, that death was a momentary thing that could be reversed somehow. Natalia’s heart sank when the priest stepped out of her parent’s bedroom, along with the female officer. They both came up to the car door. The officer opened it and picked Natalia up. She laid her grieving head onto the policewoman’s broad shoulder, which surprised both the officer and Father Martinez. This was a sign, a sign she knew what had happened, no matter how vague. ‘You’re a brave little one, aren’t you? You be with your momma now; we’ll take care of your papa, okay?’ said the nice lady-officer. Natalia nodded as she gaped at the haunting visage of a stiff corpse - now muted by death. Her father’s dusty brown boots could not be covered. Natalia was shaking, like a fierce chill had entered her little frame, freezing her bones. She stopped momentarily, tearfully gaping at her father before walking to the ambulancia. She frowned. Did his boots just move!?

Natalia stepped into the ambulancia, hugged her mother, then sat beside her. Her mother did not look the same. Her face was battered and bruised; the darkest of rings were set under her eyes. Her sunflower hair seemed shorter than usual, falling from a delicate touch. Fresh cuts ravaged her once immaculate face. This face would disturb most eight-year-olds, but Natalia only cared that her mother was safe. She understood that something, a force…no, a demon, had attacked her momma. Her brave and heroic papa must have saved her, saved them all. Natalia laid her head on her mother’s swollen arm. The tears wouldn’t stop. She felt a familiar touch on her head. ‘Where am I? Are we in an ambulancia?’ asked Rosalia with a voice that quivered in pain. Her eyes dotted around in shock. Natalia just nodded and kissed her mother’s hand.

‘It will be okay, momma. I will take care of you.’

The deepest grief swept through the Garcia family of two. There was no closure, as the authorities kept Antonio’s body for several months before releasing it. The story told to them - and to the people of the town, was that Antonio Garcia died of natural causes, a heart attack, after seeing his adoring wife in so much distress. Natalia and her mother believed this to be true, until Rosalia discovered the truth for herself. The memories of the house were too much to bear. The constant glares from the people in town had made them feel uncomfortable in the place that raised them. A look of disgust, but also, a deep fear that would end any conversation Rosalia would try and have. Teachers and classmates kept their distance from Natalia. Her mother could not keep the bar afloat as no customer would enter its doors. In desperation, Rosalia turned to the priest that came to their home, and with much hesitation, he told her the truth of that night. That her body was held by a powerful demon. It was so powerful that it must have chosen her for something. And when he performed the exorcism, the demon had left her body to possess her husband. The entity inside of him had spoken, stating that Natalia was part of a prophecy. She was theirs, it said, and they wanted her in Hell. The priest, seated in his chambers, stared aimlessly into his hands and felt the shame erupt in his chest. ‘I’m really sorry, Mrs Garcia,’ he looked away, then regarded Rosalia again with an expression of sadness. ‘Antonio broke his own neck. I believe he did this to save your daughter’s life.’

Soon after that, Rosalia sold the bar and their family home. They moved to another town for a short while, staying with distant relatives. But a fresh start in America was the plan.

PART ONE

AN ALTERNATE WORLD

The rain never let up in this godforsaken place. Waterproof shoes, trench coats, and umbrellas were the normal attire for everyone here. The urban jungle was an understatement when it came to the city of Seattle, which has since become a breeding ground for misery and misfortune. This was where Natalia made detective. After years on the beat, she finally got her shot. No amazing case she stumbled upon, no getting the opportunity to solve a high-stakes murder. No. This was simply good old-fashioned hard work and reliability. When she was on the beat, detectives would often call on her for advice, as she would usually add some unforeseen insight into the case they were working on - or go above and beyond in her approach without undermining the lead on the case. It was always clear she wasn’t in it for the glory. This had earned her stripes amongst her superiors and comrades, making the decision for her to take the detective test easier than most. As it stands in the world of men and the uncultured, Natalia had to prove herself more than the average person. She heard the remarks. ‘I know we’re all cops here, but please arrest me - with your fine Mexican ass!’ What they didn’t know was that those comments acted as fuel for her inner flame of self-worth. She was determined to succeed, and Natalia quickly discovered that determination had only gotten her so far because being driven does not change how people perceive you. Or so she thought. This viewpoint was brief and usually came when she felt like giving up. But she didn’t give up. That was never an option for her, and she understood that determination was the driving force that kept her career going. It kept her sane when no one took her seriously. Natalia would never let their pig-minded comments stand; she would respond with some form of humour that left her target quite embarrassed or feeling foolish in their feeble attempts at belittling her. ‘Yes, I’m blonde, and yes, I’m Mexican. I will take your comment as a compliment. But you’re weird-looking with a bald spot, shouldn’t you be in radio?’ said Natalia in response to an officer. The same officer that made the derogatory remark twice that week, and it was only a Tuesday! It was quick responses like these that had Natalia Garcia pegged as good sport, not easily offended, giving it back in spades when the need arose. She assumed some of her female colleagues took offense to their male chauvinistic ways, and no one could really blame them. They would report to their lieutenants, request transfers, but at that point, Natalia had already seen the strong-minded female officers. The ones that went from beat cop to detective, the ones that snapped back, displaying a fierce strength reminiscent of her mother. She had seen how they all went for drinks and socialized together, like a family; how they would do anything to protect each other. It was these aspects of the force she strived for. Other than the military, there was no other bond as special with people of diverse backgrounds. Natalia was usually a shut-in: work, home, gym, and the occasional meet-up with friends. They would go for a coffee, or a night on the town. Although, eventually, she would naturally prioritize going for beers with her cop buddies. To her surprise one night at their go-to bar, the same officer that had a face for radio explained how they would often make comments to test the real from the fake. ‘Female or not, we need to see if you got the balls for this shit because the streets will do more! These fucking punks will tear us to pieces if we’re not strong in mind and spirit,’ he proclaimed. He said this with his fists in the air, looking quite stupid, but feeling exceedingly important. The other officers didn’t help, as they raised their glasses to him in agreement. He slurred his words on the last part because he was heavily intoxicated. She nicknamed him Radio Marco, and he bought the rounds all night, making sure Natalia had her drink first. Strange that she saw him differently after that. His offensive and inexcusable antics were his twisted form of tough love. If it weren’t so ridiculous, it would almost be admirable. He paid for her taxi home. On her way back to her apartment (still living with her mother at the time) she smiled. Natalia still remembers that night being the turning point in her career, with some of the officers she had once loathed becoming like family.

‘Detectives.’

‘Officer. What we got?’

‘What do you think? A homicide. But a weird one that I won’t forget anytime soon, let me tell ya. I almost chucked up my damn lunch when I saw it…nasty stuff,’ said the short officer shaking his head. He wore a transparent rain protector over his body and a police hat. The rain droplets were trickling down his plump face. The smell of a wet dog came to mind as Rob ambled closer to him. Natalia shuffled in herself, holding a newspaper above her head for cover. ‘We’re not interested in your lunch. How did you find the body? And hurry up about it. It’s cold out here, and I don’t want the flu,’ snapped Natalia, shivering from the chilly air.

‘The mom came home and found the body; she then reported her son missing. She was at work - and her younger sister was babysitting.’ The officer turned his head to the building. Natalia could see the woe in his eyes. He had seen the body himself, and it was obvious to the detectives that he never expected such a sight. The mental fortitude of a first responder can only be compared to the hardened shell of a tank. So for this officer to be affected in such a way did not bode well. ‘She’s a complete wreck, not that I blame her. Finding her sister that way…’ he broke off and regarded the detectives again. ‘She’s at the station now.’

‘Witnesses?’ asked Rob, his voice direct. Natalia knew the question held a concealed purpose. One, to gather information, and two, to focus the upset officer so that he would not ponder on the body he saw but channel his distress into catching the fucker that did this.

‘None. None in the building anyway. Her neighbour next door was out of town, which we checked.’ The officer was clutching a small black notepad in his right hand, cloaking it from the dismal weather with his left. He placed the pen in his mouth and lifted the pad, flipping the pages until he reached his desired entry. ‘The couple is still on holiday, and the other neighbour is a retired business owner. He’s deaf in one ear and blind in one eye. We’re checking the surrounding area now.’

‘Okay,’ said Natalia. A spec of rain caught her cheek. ‘Have forensics been yet?’ she asked.

‘No, they’re taking their sweet time as always. They’re swamped, apparently.’

Swamped? That’s never a good sign. A disturbing thought that was also shared by her partner.

The two detectives put on their rubber gloves and placed shoe covers over their footwear. They proceeded into the lobby of the apartment building. Third floor, door number fourteen. The lobby was dark even in daylight. The outside courtyard stood in front of the detectives with its door propped open. The tenants kept to themselves, not even stepping out to investigate. This amazed Natalia as she remembered the concerned nature of the people from her old town. This, however, did not surprise her partner, Robert E. Slade. He didn’t like or trust people, and he’d rather assume everyone was a murdering psychopath than be caught off guard. This attitude kept him in peak condition, he would say. Natalia tied up her lengthy hair, with her signature black headband. Her customary action before investigating a crime scene. They had reached the third floor. An old lady poked her head out of her apartment further down the corridor. Her tattered grey mop and tanned railroad skin were only half seen. She glared questionably at the detectives on the landing. So, only one person in this building gives a damn. Robert asked her kindly to stay inside. She responded with a blank stare. ‘Stupid old bat,’ he mumbled under his breath. The yellow police tape was across the dark wooden door. They opened it, crouching under the tape to enter. Natalia found this easy, kind of, but Robert struggled with his long legs and big frame.

‘Wow, Rob. You’d have thought an ex-military man would be a lot nimbler than that.’

‘Shut your trap, Nat. I’m the nimblest dude you’ve seen in your whole motherfucking life.’ They both chuckled, but their laughter ended abruptly when they fully entered the abode that was dimly lit, like a keen sense of evil had muted them. The kitchen was their first view, clean, untouched. Only a dull light made its way through the windows. The bedrooms were to the left, and Robert went in that direction. Natalia went to the right, into the living room and dining room area. The building held fewer apartments, but each one was quite spacious. Natalia noticed the nicely decorated setting. Cream wallpaper throughout the apartment that naturally gave it that feeling of cosiness, with light wooden flooring and furniture. Natalia didn’t see it. No body was visible, just the horrible odour of stale blood and something much worse circulating the space. She was a little confused. She was ready to call out to Rob, turning around so her voice would carry. But the source of the smell soon came, becoming more potent when her eyes had an association of the putrid, unpleasant stench. A young teenage girl hung upside down. She was naked. Her soft pallid skin had circular lacerations and patterns cut savagely into her stomach. Her eyes were bloodshot and bulged from her skull, her head swollen to a puffy state from gravity. A blood path led from her mouth to her forehead. Its aftermath stained the cabinet and ground. Wax candles were placed ceremoniously under her head, just the right size so they wouldn’t burn her scalp. She was fair-haired and stunning. So young, yet confident enough to keep her style short. Her big, piercing blue eyes were still open, their fixed stare focused on the detective and the small, desecrated cross behind Natalia. The cross was gold but coated in blood, which Natalia assumed was the victim’s. A brown mud-like substance also covered the religious item, and Natalia’s nose identified it as faeces. Seeing the fluids from the body, Natalia assessed quickly that the excrement most likely originated from the victim as well. It was like her mind had fully opened up to the