Being a fallen angel used to be easy. A quiet life with the people she loves is all Sara ever asked for. Unfortunately, the apocalypse didn't get the message.
The apocalypse finds its way back to her doorstep when a letter arrives. Is it a friendly warning, a dire threat, or a simple reminder that she can't run away from what's to come? Sara refuses to take heed and pays dearly for her avoidance. With her family in danger and the preservation of free will hanging in the balance, she finds herself with no other choice. Sara must follow the path forged for her, a path that may take away everything she holds dear and leave her in pieces at the end. She's caught between Heaven and Hell, and the last person she'd ever have considered trusting might just be her greatest ally.
Before I even knew what I was doing, the cup was flying from my hand, the coffee trailing from it onto the floor and down my wrist; the cup shattering on the floor at Lucifer's feet. The spirits oozed in from the corners of the room, cheering on my tirade. The rage was an avalanche, escalating into something unstoppable and deadly. Soon everything on the counter was at my mercy, swept to the floor one at a time. The coffee maker was my first victim, followed immediately by a convection oven, a block of knives, a rack of coffee cups, a vase of cut flowers. I could hear myself raging, but I didn't know if there were words or if I was just screaming.
Dragged into the disaster I'd begun, I too, shattered into pieces on the floor, shards of glass cutting into my hands and forearms and biting through the fabric of my jeans into my knees and shins. The pain was clean though, the rage immolating any concern for my own well-being or safety. I was trembling, and the kitchen was silent, Lucifer standing still in the doorway. My heart beat an out of control staccato in my chest, the desperate fluttering wings of a trapped and wounded bird against my ribcage.
“This was you?” I asked, looking up at Lucifer who hadn't stopped staring down at me, his face unreadable.
“No,” he said in a hushed tone, glancing around the room before continuing. “It was all you. Only you. I wouldn't have been able to bring that much rage without quite a bit of effort, especially on another angel. It was quite a masterful performance.”
“Fuck you,” I hissed, still teetering at that precipice of rage; this time if I went over it would be a jump not a fall. He shrugged and smiled at first, but after a moment he frowned, glancing down at the floor for the first time and then my hands. What might have been amusement turned into concern and Lucifer came and knelt before me.
“You're bleeding,” he pointed out. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” I lied. It did hurt, but I wanted it to hurt more. I pressed one hand harder into the floor, crushing the glass deeper into my palms.
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Astrid V. Tallaksen grew up with a heart for stories of creatures and places outside of this world. Her love of reading quickly became a love of writing. She spent several years creating content and helping writers to improve their craft on the online world of Althanas, a creative writing workshop in the guise of a roleplaying forum. A self-avowed nerd, Astrid loves science fiction, comic books, and eighties fantasy movies in the vein of The Princess Bride and Labyrinth. Her geekiness extends to annual volunteer work at the massive sci-fi convention known as Dragon*con every year in Atlanta, Georgia. In the odd times that she's not immersed in geekdom or writing, Astrid loves to sing karaoke, crochet, and spend time with her family and pets.
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