Azriel smiled. “I am still the Angel of Death, am I not? I understand perfectly well she will die. Then she will go to your domain due to the stain on her soul, and I will follow her there. I’d follow her to the very edges of eternity itself. But before that day, she will live this fleeting human life and show me over and over how wonderful these creations that we call humanity really are. She will have children, whom I will protect with all the fierceness inside me, and then I will watch over them, and their children, and their children’s children. She has given me so much.”
I nodded once, because what could I say to that? I noticed Memphis looming in the corner, looking every bit like a potted plant or something. The Fallen could loom in the shadows like no one I’d ever met. I didn’t ask Mephistopheles the same question because I already knew his answer. We’d spent time immeasurable cast away from the gates of Heaven. We would seek solace wherever we could, no matter how fleeting it was.
Hope yawned and stretched across Azriel’s lap, making the small bump of her midsection noticeable. I tested the tiny soul with my power, although it was barely more than a golf ball in size. A girl. The next generation in a line of women that changed the world. I hoped this little one would have a more normal, easier life than her mother. Something without corrupt angels and near-death experiences. I looked again at Azriel, quirking an eyebrow to ask if he’d done the same thing, tested the soul of the baby. He nodded but pressed a finger against his lips. They must have been leaving the baby’s gender a surprise for Blue and Hope.
The front door slammed, heralding the rest of my family of misfits. Blue and Gusion appeared in the doorway to the sitting room almost immediately, as if drawn like magnets to Hope. She woke up and smiled sleepily at them, and the looks on their faces were so sweet, I almost wanted to vomit.
Oz appeared at the door soon after. “Valery said, ‘Get the kids to wash off whatever blood and gore they are covered in, and then come to the dining room. Dinner is served.’ End quote.”
That was how I found myself sitting around the dinner table at one in the morning with a family – my family – that managed to balloon from one consort and two grumpy Fallen Angels to twenty people who I would tentatively call loved ones.
Sometimes, I couldn’t help but wonder that maybe there was some greater plan to the whole thing. Not just Ace being separated from her soul and placed in Arcadia’s body, or the twins bringing down Uriel and meeting their own loved ones in the process. I wondered if the whole thing, right from the Fall, was not the Father punishing me for questioning, but revealing to me the answer in the only real way possible. Maybe I had to learn that the threads of Fate weren’t up to the Father, or me, or the angels. The universe would provide or destroy, screw or save, as it felt necessary to maintain the balance.
But there was still fun to be had. “So Hope, will you change your name to Halloran now, due to your nuptials several weeks ago?” Someone’s cutlery clattered onto the fine china.
“Ah, my love, I think the real question is will she name the child after me?” Ace stage-whispered to me loudly.
Hope shot us dirty looks, as she fielded the sudden cacophony of questions. I looked at my consort, and she smiled back. Maybe there wasn’t a grand plan or any hard lessons at all. Maybe there was just a love story. A story of a man who loved a woman. A man who split the Heavens in half for her, and tore the world into pieces to get her back. You know what? The Universe could suck my dick. I had my balance.
It was her.
About the Author
Grace McGinty is eclectic. She has worked as a chocolatier, a librarian, a forensic accountant and finally a writer. Like her professional career, the genres she writes are also eclectic. She writes romance, reverse harem romance, fantasy, contemporary young adult and new adult books.
She lives in rural Australia with her crazy family, an entire menagerie of pets, and will one day be crushed by her giant piles of books that litter every room.
The Fallen marks the end of Arcadia, Estrella and Hope’s stories, but Serendipity will get her own story very soon.
Head over to www.gracemcginty.com and join my mailing list for sneak previews into what I am working on and to stay up-to-date with new releases and giveaways!
Acknowledgments
So that’s that. The freakin’ end.
I honestly can’t thank you, the reader, enough for your support. This whole ride has been amazing and terrifying and spectacular and anxiety-producing. I’ve learned a lot, watched the Reverse Harem sub-genre grow so fast that it blows my mind, and made some great friends and spectacular supporters.
But it is the readers that have been with me every step of the way that I owe so very, very much. The ones that encouraged me when I was just dipping my toe into this crazy community, the ones who read every single part I released and only cussed me out a little for all the cliffhangers. The ones who left such beautiful reviews that gave me the confidence to grow as an author. You know who you are, and I think you are all amazing. THANK YOU from the very bottom of my black little heart.
Stay in touch, you guys. I’ve got some BIG things coming out over the next few months. If you want to stay on top of my crazy release schedule, you can join my reader group on Facebook (Grace’s Bookish Angels), or follow me on Instagram (@gracemcgintyauthor).
As always, there are these other options too, because I love talking to readers and I want you to be able find me if you just want to chat, or write me hate mail.
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/GraceMcGintyAuthor/
Instagram: @gracemcgintyauthor
Website: https://gracemcgintyauthor.com
Twitter: @McgintyGrace
Email: [email protected]
Turn the page for a Sneak Peek of Newly Undead in Dark River
(Dark River Days: Book One)
About the Author
Grace McGinty is eclectic. She has worked as a chocolatier, a librarian, a forensic accountant and finally a writer. Like her professional career, the genres she writes are also eclectic. She writes romance, reverse harem romance, fantasy, contemporary young adult and new adult books.
She lives in rural Australia with her crazy family, an entire menagerie of pets, and will one day be crushed by her giant piles of books that litter every room.
The Fallen marks the end of Arcadia, Estrella and Hope’s stories, but Serendipity will get her own story very soon.
Head over to www.gracemcginty.com and join my mailing list for sneak previews into what I am working on and to stay up-to-date with new releases and giveaways!
Keep reading for a sneak preview at my new Reverse Harem Series, Dark River Days.
Newly Undead In Dark River
Dark River Days: Book 1
Chapter One
I woke to a rat scuttling across my chest, its tiny nose twitching as it paused to stare at me before scurrying off. Damn, I was hungry.
The fact that my initial reaction to a rat was hunger and not disgust was the first sign that something was very, very wrong. The second clue was that I was lying in a drain pipe in the middle of the night. Although it was hard to concentrate on anything but the hunger clawing at my stomach, I could hear the nocturnal animals shuffling around in the silence, smell the stale water that now soaked my clothes.
I tried to sit up and banged my head on the slimy concrete. Groaning, I rolled over and crawled my way out into the open. My body felt like I'd climbed Everest. Twice. I couldn’t see my backpack anywhere. Panic began to fill my chest. Everything was in that pack. But it was pitch black, the moon not even visible behind the clouds. I became acutely aware that I was standing in the middle of the wilderness, at night, alone. I was a serial killer’s wet dream right now.
I stared down the road, looking for the oncoming lights of a car or truck or something. Maybe I could hitch a ride into the nearest town. It was probably hitchhiking that put me in this predicament to start with. My mom was going to be pissed that I’d
been so irresponsible.
I felt dazed like I'd been tranquilized, but I patted down my clothing with sluggish movements. Nothing was torn, and all my clothes were still on. I didn't feel violated in any way. My brain was cloudy, and I tried to sift through the fog to remember why I was lying in a ditch, outside of…
I looked up at the road sign. Welcome to Dark River. Where the hell was Dark River?
Hunger tore at my belly again, a burning ache so painful I moaned into the darkness like a wounded animal. First, I needed to eat something. Maybe then I'd be able to work out what the hell was going on.
I stumbled down the side of the road, and I could see the muted glow of the town lights once I was over the small rise.
Electricity surged up through my chest, and the edges of my vision dimmed. The last thing I felt when my body buckled was the rough gravel scraping my cheek.
I snapped back to consciousness all at once, like when you dream you’re falling. My head felt too full, and panic was beginning to mingle with the overwhelming hunger.
I was now in town, beneath the striped awning of Bert and Beatrice's Old Fashioned Diner. How the fuck did I get here? Everything was completely blank as if someone had plucked the memory from my brain like a bad apple. A clock tower sat in the middle of town, proclaiming it to be almost midnight.
I pushed through the glass door, and a little bell tinkled above my head. The place was filled to the brim, which was unusual seeing how it was basically the middle of the night.
Every set of eyes turned to look at me, and the old guy behind the counter dropped the soda glass he was drying, the smashing sound shooting pain into my skull. I must have really looked like hell. An elderly woman bustled out of the swinging doors, which probably led to the kitchen.
“What's goin' on out...” she trailed off when she saw me standing in the doorway. She nudged the old man out of the way.
“Lass, are you feelin' alright? Bertie, get the girl a drink. The house special,” she said slowly, her accent a thick Scottish brogue. “Tilda, call the Sheriff, please. Get him down here, quick smart.” She was rounding the counter now. “Here, Lass, take a seat.”
I took the stool she indicated obediently. She had a no-nonsense, matronly tone that soothed my panicked nerves.
“I lost my money and my passport.” My voice sounded so weak that I hardly recognized it as my own.
The elderly lady just patted my shoulder.
“Not to worry, Sweet. It's on the house.”
I could hear the sound of Tilda murmuring quietly into the phone down the other end of the diner.
“Yes Sheriff, just stumbled in the door. Looking like death, if you know what I mean.”
The old man, Bertie I guess, slid a cardboard milkshake cup in front of me, complete with red and white straw. It smelled so good that I fell on it like a half-starved animal. When I'd sucked down the last drop, I looked up, embarrassed.
“Sorry. I was really hungry.” Bertie just took away my empty cup and put a fresh one in front of me.
“Don't worry about it, Darlin’. Have another one.” I was struggling to concentrate on her words. I found it hard to concentrate on anything but the milkshake in front of me.
The bell over the door tinkled, and everyone’s eyes shifted in that direction again, even mine. A tall man in a chocolate brown uniform walked into the place, and everyone started talking at once. The cacophony after the complete absence of noise was hell on my eardrums. I pushed my palms over my ears to try and muffle some of the sounds.
“Quiet!” The guy was obviously the Sheriff, judging by the way that everyone’s flapping jaws snapped shut with almost perfect synchronization. Silence again. The man strode over, his every movement elegant, to where I was sitting and gaping in his direction.
The man was hot. Like, spontaneous combustion, three-alarm, call in the National Guard, hot. He had sandy brown hair and deep green eyes. The uniform hugged his muscular body. He was so attractive it made my teeth hurt. Literally.
“Ma'am, my name is Sheriff Walker Walton, do you need some help?” His deep voice was gentle, almost as if he didn't want to startle me.
“I don't know how I got here,” I whispered. It was all a blank.
I'd been backpacking my way through Canada with my friends, but they had gone home last week, while I continued to travel up through Alberta by myself. I'd missed my bus to Yukon, so I'd decided to hitchhike my way through the last stretch to the border of British Columbia. After all, what's life without a little adventure? I'd been picked up by a family with teenage sons, but they'd let me off near Grande Prairie. I walked down the highway a bit more, and then poof, everything else is blank.
“Do you remember your name?” the Sheriff asked in the same soft voice.
“Mika McKellan. From Boston.”
“That's good, Mika. I'd like you to come down to the station with me, so we can get this all sorted out. The town doctor will meet us there, just to check you over.”
I nodded absently, and followed Sheriff Walton out of the diner, clutching my take away cup to my chest like a lifebuoy. He walked me over to the squad car, and let me sit in the passenger seat, instead of the back.
We drove in silence around the block, and I took the town in. It was actually quite beautiful. Not the cemetery stillness of most small towns after dark. Fairy lights were strung around the town square, and people milled about. The lights were on in all the shops, and small clumps of people were talking to each other on well-lit sidewalks.
“Is there a festival going on or something?” I asked Sheriff Walton.
“Or something,” he replied, letting silence fill the cab.
Within a minute, we had pulled up in front of a skinny brick building. There were shiny bars on the windows, and a police sign hanging over the front lawn.
Sheriff Walton moved around the front of the car and opened the passenger door. I heaved myself out of the seat. Moving wasn't as painful as it was when I first woke up, but I still felt sluggish.
A plain woman with sparkling eyes met us at the front door. She looked me over and then sent a pointed expression to Sheriff Walton.
“Mika, this is Doctor Alice Sommer. I'm gonna get the Doc to check you for any signs of, uh, injury.”
He held open the door of the station for me, and I gave him a polite smile.
“Let's go into the conference room. We need to have a chat after the Doc has looked you over. I'll be out here doing some paperwork.”
He opened the door to an interrogation room. No windows, just a metal table with two chairs. Conference room, my ass.
“Thanks, Walker. I'll give you a shout when we're done,” the doctor said softly.
The door closed with a click. The doctor sat a leather doctor’s bag on the metal table. “Have a seat, Miss McKellan.”
“Mika.”
“Okay, Mika it is. But you have to call me Alice. Now, let me have a look at you.” She shone one of those penlights in my eyes, and I let out a little squeal.
“Ouch.”
“Hmm, light sensitivity. You have a little bruising on your throat too.” She got out a measuring instrument and measured the width of the bruise. “Anything else feel off to you?”
“Except for the starving feeling, my muscles aching, the weird blank spots and the passing out?” My sarcasm was obnoxious, but I couldn’t seem to help it. “Other than all that, I'm as healthy as a horse.”
The doctor clicked her tongue and wrote down the measurements. “Walker, can you get the cooler from the backseat of my car and come in here please?” She barely raised her voice, but the Sheriff must have heard because the front door of the station slammed.
“Don't worry, Mika. Your symptoms should lessen in a few days.”
“Lessen?”
But the Sheriff was striding in the room, cooler in hand. Damn, he was fast.
“It's confirmed, Walker, though let's face it, it was obvious to everyone as soon as she walked through the door of the
diner. You can smell it just as well as I can.”
The Sheriff ran a hand down his face and sighed. “I know, but I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to think someone we know could have done this.”
What the hell were they talking about? I sniffed my armpit stealthily. I didn't think I smelled that bad, considering I'd been sleeping in a ditch. My nose twitched. A tangy metallic smell was coming from the cooler. A smell that was so familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was.
“You know, I'm still in the room. Do you think someone could take me out to the ditch and see if I can find my wallet and my backpack? Everything I have is in that pack.”
“Ditch?”
“The one I woke up in. Under the welcome sign.”
The Sheriff's eyebrows knitted together, and I could basically see the cogs turning. “Sure. We'll go take a look out there first thing tomorrow night.”
“Why can't we go in the morning?”
Alice laid a hand on my arm and rested her butt on the table. She was looking down at me sympathetically. In my experience, that was never a good sign.
“Mika, we have something to tell you. This is going to sound outrageous and frightening, but I want you to know that we are here for you.”
My heart started to race, something in the back of my mind screamed that nothing was going to be the same again.
“Did my pet goldfish die? Are you two getting a divorce?” I deflected awkward situations with sarcasm. My therapist and I were working through it back home.
It was the Sheriff that answered. “No. Well, maybe, I don't know. I've never seen your pet goldfish, but I understand they die quite frequently.” Walker ran his hand through his hair, and my hands itched to follow suit. “Look, Mika, I know this is going to sound strange, but it's our opinion that last night, you well, uh, you died.”
Hell's Redemption- The Complete Series Boxset Page 93
