Dark Angel by Kim Richardson

Author:Kim Richardson [Richardson, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-08T12:05:55+00:00

CONTENTS

BOOKS BY KIM RICHARDSON

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 1 6

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

DARK STRIKE

SPELLS & ASHES

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

BOOKS BY KIM RICHARDSON

SHADOW AND LIGHT

Dark Hunt

Dark Bo und

Dar k Rise

Dark Gift

Dark Curse

Dark Angel

THE DARK FILES

Spells & Ashes (Coming soon)

TEEN AND YOUNG ADULT

SOUL GUARDIANS

Marked

Elemental

Horizon

Netherworld

Seirs

Mortal

Reapers

Seals

THE HORIZON CHRONICLES

The Soul Thief

The Helm of Darkness

The City of Flame and Shadow

The Lord of Darkness

MYSTICS SERIES

The Seventh Sense

The Alpha Nation

The Nexus

DIVIDED REALMS

Steel Maiden

Witch Queen

Blood Magic

1

Trying to get in touch with an angel wasn’t as easy as I’d first thought it would be.

No, I’m not talking about summoning one in a circle because I would have if I had a name. But without the name of an angel, I couldn’t just summon up a random name on a whim, hoping I’d land an angel. I might conjure up a dead thing, or worse, a demon. Gabriel, Raphael, Luriel, Raguel were all archangel names known to me, but after what happened with the archangel Vedriel, I decided I was going to go down the corporate celestial ladder and summon just a regular angel.

And to do that, I had to go through the proper channels—the angel-born ones. It was a painstakingly long and torturous method of asking and then waiting. I’m not the most patient person in the world, but I could do with the waiting, for a little while.

However, the asking had me mulling it over in my head for about three weeks.

I hated asking for anything. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I just didn’t have it in me. I wasn’t wired that way. Even when I was broke, I always managed to find ways to get work and find some money. Maybe I was too proud, but the idea of asking the angel-borns for anything at all had my skin crawling and bile rising up in the back of my throat.

It was one of the reasons I’d never asked the angel-borns for soul blades or other weapons. I just couldn’t bring myself to ask. Asking made me look inferior, weak. I wasn’t.

There was also the nauseating factor that I would owe them. If they did me a favor, I would be indebted to them, probably for the rest of my life. I would owe them big. Fantastic.

I had promised Tyrius I would give the angel-borns a shot before I reverted to my own ways of getting things done—by force, lots of pain, and a few deaths—which would probably end up being disastrous. The usual in my life.

Granted, even though asking the angel-borns for help had me feeling sick, I was running out of options and time. Lucian would be back. And if he got word of Layla, I had even less time.

I sat next to Father Thomas in matching wooden chairs carved with intricate designs and archangel sigils before a long table, decorated in winding silver and gold patterns. The massive table could seat at least twenty people comfortably, but just the two of us sat here now.

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