Broken Wings (An Angel Eyes Novel) by Dittemore Shannon

Author:Dittemore, Shannon [Dittemore, Shannon]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2013-02-18T23:00:00+00:00

22

Pearla

Pearla crouches atop a roof on Main Street. Below her, in the recessed entryway, is her mark.

Damien.

She’s been following him for hours, waiting for him to do something, anything worth reporting to Michael. He’s taken his human form now. Tall, olive skin, dark eyes. He leans against the wall, staring at the empty street.

It took her some days to locate him. His new eyes spotted her at once and she had to lie low for a time, but today she’s managed to stay hidden, discreet. Still, he’s done little to merit report.

His first stop was a farmhouse skirting the highway. He circled once and dropped through the roof. She watched as he strolled the house, his black wings brushing everything with fear. Down the hall he went and into a bedroom.

She knew right away that a Shield had made his home here. She could tell that by the onyx chest in the dwelling place. That Damien would enter a Shield’s residence showed a reckless disregard, and Pearla wondered then just how much stock he was putting in those new eyes.

At first Damien ignored the chest. He walked the house, sniffing each room, leaking fear onto the furniture. But before departing, he re-entered the Shield’s room and glared at the chest. He hacked at it with his talons, beat it with his wings. He attempted to pick it up, but the chest would not move.

Finally he crouched before it, and with taloned fingers he lifted the lid.

Pearla clung to the roof, out of sight, amazed that the Throne Room would give up its secrets to one of the Fallen. She watched as he lifted a dagger from its depths. Watched as he opened his mouth and howled with delight. And then watched as his face turned hard. He tried to take the dagger, tried to slide it next to the curved sword at his waist, but the moment he sheathed it, the dagger vanished. Damien cursed as, with a heavy clunk, it rematerialized in the chest below. He tried again to retrieve the dagger. And once more the weapon would not be removed. In a fit of rage he left the house, flying past her, his mouth screaming hate.

Pearla doesn’t understand the demon’s actions, doesn’t understand the significance of the dagger, but it’s the one piece of information she has to report, so she tucks it away for her rendezvous with the Commander.

Soft footsteps pull her attention back to her mark. A woman approaches, crossing the street and stepping into the entryway next to Damien.

His human voice is low, threatening. “You came highly recommended.”

Fear presses through the woman’s satin shirt, but her voice is steady when she speaks. “So you said.”

Damien steps closer. “I’m reminding you because I’ve yet to see progress, and my fingers are just itching to send that e-mail.”

“Oh, stop. I’ll get it. Things take time.” She turns to go.

“You’re stalling,” he growls, yanking her back into the doorway.

The fear multiplies, but Pearla’s impressed by the woman’s ability to sound unmoved.

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