sanity and job, and stop the voice in her
head from stealing her life. She almost
misses the boredom of data analysis at
Ubiquity. Almost.
Excerpt
I materialized from the ether, already
anticipating the comfort of Lucifer's
office in hell and being enveloped in
the closest thing I recognized as feeling
like home. His door was open when I
got there, and I saw him at his desk so I
pushed in with a brief announcing
knock.
I exhaled in relief as his familiar aura
seeped into me. As one of the three
remaining originals, he had his own
little corner of hell that was all his and
no one else’s. Instead of being generic
day to day blahness, it radiated the fact
that he’d occupied it for millennia. As I
got far enough inside to see the rest of
the room, I froze, all coherent thought
evaporating.
It’s not… Maybe? Mikkel?
Lucifer wasn’t alone. The stranger
looked up, steel-blue eyes locking on
mine. A few days growth of black
stubble decorated his chin, and his
mud-caked boots rested on Lucifer’s
desk, the occasional flake dropping
down to mar the shine. It wouldn’t
scuff the oak finish—Lucifer liked his
polished-until-it-was-almost-a-mirror
wood finishes too much to let that
happen, but it still had to be irritating
the hell out of my mentor.
bizarre life, amused me. Who was he?
Angels in hell weren’t unheard of, but
they disliked our methods enough that
visits were rare. I stepped toward him.
With dark hair, light eyes, and an
obvious disdain for the most powerful
demon in existence, he was sexy, and
compelling, and—
It wasn’t always easy to tell the
difference between an angel and a
demon—since technically we were all
made from the same stuff, and just
accomplished our goals differently. But
a real angel. One served order instead
of looking for the loopholes that
allowed chaos, had a different aura. A
smooth glow instead of a kaleidoscope
of fractured light.
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And the arrogant man with his feet on
my boss’s desk was more distinctly
angel than anyone I’d ever met.
Something about the situation, on top
of the last twenty-four hours of my
If you’ll stop swooning, I can kill that
fucker. Right here and now. Draw your
sword.
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