Sin Path: Volume One: Banished - Softcover

J. Howard, .

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1490777350 ISBN 13: 9781490777351

Publisher: Trafford, 2016

Synopsis

Where do those who have no one to turn, turn? 
Being thrown into a world that you hate... 
How can one save a world that rejects the savior? 
Sometimes it is not the angels that save us, 
it is the demons. 

With humanity on the brink of extinction and hope a faint memory, a being from Hell searches for the key that will unlock the salvation of the entire universe, or so he thinks. 

With a cavalcade of villains all vying for control, his task may not be as simple as he thought. Along with his companions, he must learn how to cope with the human world and navigate a web of lies, deception, and sin.

About this title

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Sin Path

Volume One: Banished

By J. Howard

Trafford Publishing

Copyright © 2016 J. Howard
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-7735-1

Contents

Chapter 1 Bad Luck Is a Black Cat, 1, 
Chapter 2 Welcome to Hell, 11, 
Chapter 3 To the Under-rim, 23, 
Chapter 4 Esca, Captain of the Guard and Keeper of the Keys in the Under-rim, 40, 
Chapter 5 When It's Time, It's Time, 59, 
Chapter 6 Canines and Cocktails, 76, 
Chapter 7 A Little Understanding, 89, 
Chapter 8 Help Wanted, 101, 
Chapter 9 Not All Angels Are from Heaven, 121, 
Chapter 10 Visions Above the Pasture, 143, 
Chapter 11 Sniffing like a Dog, 155, 
Chapter 12 My Guardian Demon, 188, 
Chapter 13 Three to Eleven, 213, 
Chapter 14 Dealing in Death, 246, 

CHAPTER 1

Bad Luck Is a Black Cat

The lights were low. It was an ordinary bedtime for the young brood of the Connelly family. A mother and father paced up the worn wooded stairs. There were two sleepy, red-eyed children who fought to stay awake. Each sleepy babe wanted to sleep, but as children do, they tried their best to keep their tired eyes open. The mother carried the younger, a boy. He had an older sister. She weighed a little bit more than her tiny brother. The father held her close until finally, both parents came to the landing at the top of the steps.

"They're so tired. It looks like this afternoon at Grandma's house wore them out," the father spoke as he opened a door on the left side of the hall. "They didn't even put up a fight, at least not compared to how things usually happen." He laughed. His wife smiled at him. She stroked his back. The pair embraced each other while each carried a child. This family loved one another dearly. They shared a deep bond. The family was strong and kind. They were the rarity these days. Not too far from this quaint, wholesome home, a family lived that was quite the opposite.

"It's about time. What took you so long?" a crude man questioned his wife. She stomped into the bedroom, wearing a meager expression. "Well, are they asleep?" The woman gave no answer. She stared bitterly at him. "Come on now. Cat got your tongue?" he said jokingly. She didn't find his rudeness in the slightest bit amusing.

"Damn, you can be an asshole. The stupid brats finally quit. So go ahead, do whatever you have to do with the crops. Sometimes I wish you were just gone. I really do. Now maybe I can get a few moments' peace. Damn kids and damn you too." She plopped herself onto the bed and turned her shoulder.

"Love you too." He made a kissing sound with his lips as he strolled out of the room. The man ran down the hall and to the bottom of the steps. He came into the kitchen and reached into a high cabinet. A pail was there. The pail had been filled with various scraps and discards; there were apple cores and the crust of bread and a few other things that were too moldy to identify. He clutched the bucket in one hand, and in his other, he carried a loaded shotgun. He headed straight for the barn across from his home. "None of you try anything, ya hear?" He let drop the bucket of slop. In his breast pocket, a key rested. He drew it out and plunged it into an enormous lock. The chains loosened. He slid the heavy wooden door open. A dozen women cowered along the edges of the barn.

All these women were young, some too young to be put under so much abuse. Many of them were weak and thin. That single bucket of slop was used to feed all of them. Scraps that weren't even good enough for a single pig were expected to sufficiently nourish twelve women. Each of these women came from a different place and was abducted only to be used as a crop. They were a form of currency. The violation and abuse weren't the worst of it. The uncertainty and isolation plagued each of their minds. The women all came from different backgrounds, most spoke languages that no other could recognize. While they all shared in a similar circumstance, it was their cultural differences that kept them separate. Many of them only saw the light of day to be tortured. Otherwise, they spent the day locked and shackled. There was nothing left in them. The cruel antics of a "farmer" broke them. He treated them like cattle, and that is what they became.

"Eat up. You girls need your strength." He watched them stumble to the bucket with a wicked smile. "Some of ya have a big day coming up. And I need you to perform. 'Cause we all know what happens if you ... don't." His lips curled. He sent his arm flying. The poor, unsuspecting girl closest to him was struck in the back of the head. She fell to the barn floor, wincing in pain. "So let's not disappoint me. You girls have a great night." The barn door was locked up, and the girls were left to freeze in the night. The man returned to his cozy bed with no regard to his actions. He slept peacefully and hardly gave a thought to the innocent women in his barn. A conscience wasn't something this man possessed. Indifference became his way of life. As long as he was making a profit, he had no concern for morals. He abandoned any of those things long ago.

It was the early hours of the morning, and by this time, the Connelly family was fast asleep. The sun hadn't yet risen, but its brilliant rays could be seen emanating off the horizon. The birds sang. Their loud cries echoed through the small farming community. It was still too cold for the growing season to begin. In fact, the community hadn't done very much farming for the past few years. The people still lay fast asleep, tucked snugly under the sheets and down comforters. On a normal day, the town wouldn't wake until late into the morning.

Many individuals in this town had forgotten the ways of old and found new ways to make profit. The town abandoned agriculture. It took up new markets, sinful markets. The barns were no longer used to house cattle but used to house people. In this small town, the only thing being sold were young women. A once triumphant farming community in Missouri was now a location for illegal and immoral prostitution. This way of life had gone on too long. Innocent girls had been used as currency without punishment. The reign of sin was coming to an end.

An older man slept with his wife in their plush bed. The house they lived in looked normal enough. Pictures of their children hung on display throughout the hallways of the two-story home. To look at the home, one would never know it was a house of evil. It had all the nice little knickknacks homes have, a decor that wouldn't fit the devilish owner. Brightly colored fabrics and cloth covered the furniture. Large windows filled the home's wooden walls. Such a beautiful home surely couldn't be the house of a villainous husband and wife, a husband and wife who sold women to others.

A tall man walked down the black street in front of the sinful couple's home. His skin was a light-grayish color, the pigment of a faded stone. Not a single hair could be seen upon his head. A long scar ran from the back of his neck to the tip of his chin. The eyes of the man were a cold black. He wore a mean scowl on his face. He was thick with muscle but proportionate from head to toe. The clothes he wore weren't normal everyday articles. Long bands of white and blue cloth draped over his shoulders. His waist was laden with a heavy black fur in which the material ended just above his knees. There were two blades that hung off his back. Each was three feet in length and in the shape of a crescent moon. The red edging on each sword seemed to shine as if it were the moon's rays.

The dark figure took long strides down the quiet road. Not a noise was made from his footsteps. A small cloud of dust blew by him. The subtle wind began to blow fiercer. With every step, the wind became stronger and stronger. All of a sudden, every light on the street had turned off. The town seemed to shut down entirely. The wind had sucked the life from the tiny municipality. Time had stopped; not a soul was in motion. The citizens had been suspended in time in order for the mysterious man to complete his task.

The mysterious man was named Remloc. In reality, he was no man at all but a demon god. Remloc was a stern being and not very pleasant to be around. He would seldom laugh, except on the rare occasion to bestow fear upon someone. His tough exterior was no comparison to his impenetrable interior. He knew no fear, no sadness, no happiness. Remloc was a dedicated individual. His role as the earth realm's "Death," but in this case for the souls of the wicked, was what consumed his life. Without his title, he would have nothing. There was virtually no family to speak of. Friends came in short supply. His work was the blood that coursed through his demon veins.

His job was what brought him here during the early morning, for inside the house were two very wicked souls. Their lives were about to expire. Remloc would soon take their souls. They would be carried to Hell to rot with all the other evil and sinful spirits of the world. The blades that hung on his back were magical blades. If used properly, the weapons would inflict no wounds but had the ability to murder. It was the mystical swords that captured the souls. The souls of millions upon millions of people were slain with Remloc's blades, and yet not a single drop of blood had even touched them. These two possessions were coveted by him most of all. Their beauty and power was second to none in the demon's eyes. Each blade acted as another appendage. They became an extension of his body. He used the sabers with grace and skill. He became the master of each. Remloc had never failed in the capture of a soul. This morning's visit would be just another notch on his belt.

The sun's rising had been halted. Remloc had to finish his task soon; only a short time remained for him. He took his final step toward the house. He glanced over the wooden frame and proceeded. Dust was kicked into the air as he raised his foot onto each step. There were two large feet that stopped at the top of the porch steps. The house was locked up tight. Remloc could see the nearby barn. The sight of it was enough to bring him to sickness. He was aware of the egregious misdeeds that took place there. He desired to do more than just take their souls. He wished to bring his own justice upon them. The demon wanted them to suffer in his hands. He knew that he never would get such an opportunity. His job wasn't to enact punishment, only to capture souls in order to take them to be judged as wicked or saintly. Remloc couldn't recall the last time he took a soul that wasn't wicked.

The presence of the barn enraged him. He hated humans, most of all, but especially the humans who were excessive sinners. He couldn't understand the evil things that they did. He couldn't find a reason for their behavior. Humans were lazy and crude. While Remloc hated humans, he felt sympathy for those who had to suffer at the hands of wicked souls. Remloc hated the humans for that purpose. They were given everything but wasted it all. Those people, those wicked people, succumbed so easily to the act of sin. Selfishness motivated humanity. Civilization started its fall from grace long ago. Any redeemable qualities had fizzled out many centuries earlier; yet somehow their way of life continued on. It seemed that nothing could stop the disease that plagued the earth — humans.

Remloc collected himself and turned his attention back to what he had come to do. His large hand gripped the brass door handle. His first turn was a failure. The front door was locked. Remloc looked downward. His eyes focused on the handle. A tremor worked its way down Remloc's forearm. The doorknob began to vibrate, and with a twist, the door came open. The wooden door fell open slowly. The rising sun's light came in through the entryway. His massive leg moved its way into the residence. It landed and set in place on the hard laminate surface. The rest of his body followed. He halted for a brief moment. The demon's animallike eyes surveyed his environment. He never jumped before he looked. Remloc made sure there would be no surprises waiting for him inside.

His pause had ended. He ventured further into the residence. Remloc took great care as he moved through the small home. Each creak in the floor sounded like the cries of thousands of beaten and used women. The shadows seemed to move about the floor, taunting Remloc. Each shadow called to him, begging to be saved. "Save us! Save us!" they cried. The demon ignored the suffering and anguish. He reached the tall wooden staircase. It was narrow, and the steps ascended at different heights. His eyes moved up and down them. A strong flow of evil emanated off all the items in the house. Remloc knew that the adults in this house were wicked to the core. He disliked these kind of people most of all. They built a facade to fool the world. During the day, the outside world had no conception of the evil that dwelled within. The house came off the same way any other would. The town around them knew nothing of the true operation of the farm. A few misguided customers kept the sales up. Their devious ways supplied a town's worth of evil in only a few souls. The secret was hidden so well that not even their own children knew of their parents' terrible deeds. Hypocrites and liars rested only one floor above the demon.

From the bottom of the steps, he could see the children's rooms. The thought of the children of this house growing up to be just like their parents was something that made Remloc want to complete his task even more. Remloc took one step, and the stair creaked loudly. It was a sound that only Remloc could hear. He ignored the noise and kept heading up the stairway. One step after another and he had reached the top. A long hallway seemed to stretch on into eternity. There were four doors lining the walls of the hallway. The first door Remloc came to was the little boy's room. He was only two years of age and barely reached two feet tall. Bruises covered much of the boy's back and arms. His father beat him for the slightest things like crying or dropping his cup. He was grabbed, smacked, and beat. The young child endured so many savage beatings at the hands of a man who had no business being a father. The idea of parenting escaped him. He didn't know how to be a father and did the only thing he knew how to do: be cruel. The law that kids will be kids wasn't one that he abided by.

Remloc stopped at his door and peeked inside. The young boy was fast asleep. A worn teddy bear rested underneath his little arms. The room was bare. A chest of drawers and a small woven rug were the only things in view besides the tiny cot that he knew as his bed. The poor child slept in this room night in and night out, but he never thought that he went without. For some strange reason, he loved his room and his only toy. Remloc pulled his head back out of the doorway and closed the door.

He wasted no time. The next door he passed was a grungy and dirty-looking bathroom. In the light of day, the filth and grime of the house could easily be seen. The house wasn't well kept; many of the rooms and items in the house were neglected. Housekeeping was the last thing on the minds of the parents of this particular household. Their evil and wickedness was without limits. They were selfish and cared nothing for the well-being of their children. It was more important to make a sale than it was to keep up with housework or provide a proper meal for their children. If they would waste time being parents, then how could they afford another useless trinket or a new television?

There was only one more door in the hall before he came to his final destination. This door was on the opposite side of the hallway. Inside this door was a rather pure little girl. She was eleven and, so far, unaffected by the neglect and abuse. The girl would do the best she could to keep the house up and care for her brother. She was just a little girl, however, so there wasn't much that she could do. Her means were slim, and she had no connection to the outside world. The little girl did so much and sacrificed so much just for her little brother. For eleven years, she witnessed terrible things. She was placed right in the middle of her brother and her father on many occasions. It was far too much for such a young girl to take on, and yet she had to. The little girl blamed herself for everything that happened to her brother. She wished she could do more. Her life wasn't fair, her brother's life wasn't fair, and the lives of the women in that barn were certainly not fair either.

Remloc walked past the door on the right and down to the end of the hallway. Tufts of dust piled in the corners at the hall's end. This was the door. Behind it was the lair of two villainous and sick individuals. The room he was about to enter housed evil of the worst kind. The two souls that lay asleep inside were surely worthy of the fires of Hell.

Remloc's eyes moved up and down the sinister-looking door. It was black as night in his eyes. The souls of many dead women reached out for him, trapped within the fibers of the wooden door. His large palm cupped the brass handle. A wave of evil energy penetrated through him. He could feel the evil coming from inside the room and through the door. It was something he had felt time and time again, but the potency of the evil was unlike any other he had yet to feel. Remloc pulled the handle down and let the door swing open on its own. The swinging door moved slowly to reveal the sleeping bodies of two humans.

Ned Bridgeford and his wife, Kelly, lay in their luxurious bed. It was clear that all the profit they had made was put into their own selfish needs. It was wasted on pointless purchases of unnecessary things. The children went without so that they could have whatever they pleased. It was the opposite of how life should be. Ned and Kelly were monsters. Ned was the architect behind their enterprise, but his wife didn't mind spending their ill-gotten gains on whatever selfish device her dark heart desired. They found it difficult to spend even the smallest amount on their son and daughter. They were lucky to have each other. These were two people who loved each other for their selfish ways and evil personalities. They were absolutely perfect for each other. They would have the satisfaction of not being separated during the afterlife. The two of them would suffer for an eternity together.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Sin Path by J. Howard. Copyright © 2016 J. Howard. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: Trafford
• Publication date: 2016
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1490777350
• ISBN 13: 9781490777351
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 270