Good Angel (Good Angel Duology Book 1)
Page 30
Iofiel’s blood was in her ears, her skin, her veins, lips. She wasn’t sure if the angels below knew what had happened yet, and time seemed so, so slow— she fell on top of him as he foamed at the mouth, the skin around where she’d cut him peeling open like an onion.
“Have mercy,” he choked out, as she made another small blade, staring at his delicate neck.
“Mercy is for humans,” Iofiel said, as she killed Archangel Michael. She slit his throat, and touched his neck, watching with sickness as his blood reacted to her skin— it boiled and bubbled, the skin flaking and peeling off in chunks.
Her hands were dyed red, and she wasn’t one hundred percent clear what she was thinking, how she’d gotten so much blood on her actually, what was going to happen next, but—
Archangel Michael was dying, had died, was dead; in his blood Iofiel could still feel him, could still feel every ounce of his magic slowly leaving, no longer bound. His old spells around Heaven, the tricks that made his skin blue and his freckles glitter.
She wiped her face, and then regretted it, because she could smell his iron Grace now, and she could—
Iofiel dropped off the edge of the tower, and thought of the dark.
Her wings were open as she fell, wide and purple and tinged in blood. Angels watched her, too, some moving, some trying to stop her, but she kept falling—
And the dark welcomed her like the embrace of too-cold winter night, and she twirled and spun, rag-dolling through the atmosphere, not caring about hitting the ground below until she saw something on the horizon.
Her hands were red, red, and she’d maybe ruined the world, and there on the hill was a bright light, not quite of God, which sung out:
Blue, blue, blue.
END PART ONE
TO BE CONTINUED IN ‘BAD END’
About The Author
HOBBIES:
Touring old churches
Lurking in your favorite cafés
Angels
Making things out of paper
Long walks in the pitch black of night
The company of crustaceans
TITLES:
Friend of dogs
Lost cause
Cult fiend
Crow Caller
SAID TO:
Write.1
A. M. can be found on twitter (@AMBlaushild), tumblr (@Hellisntreal), and sometimes, right over your shoulder.
A. M. was last spotted alive.
1: [CITATION NEEDED]
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book is dedicated to Clem, as by blood oath I’m obliged to, but she’s a loser who still hasn’t read it (I always love you anyways). In truth, Good Angel would not have been written without the support of Fernanda, Rose, Ally, and anyone else who read it during the early stages.
Ally especially was essential to me finishing the first draft during the throes of some Pretty Lame depression. Usually I write for myself, but for a few months, I was writing because I knew Ally was waiting for it: thank you.
The cover was done by Tessa Thompson, who was/is consistently fantastic and may be found on tumblr under the name ‘Quibbs’.
Editing was done with the assistance of Lynn O’Connacht, who again was consistently and persistently fantastic. She also taught me a very specific fear of hair ruffling and cute emoticons, and I will never forgive her for the flight/fight reflex the ^_^;; face now instills in me.