Hellsbane Hereafter by Paige Cuccaro

Author:Paige Cuccaro [Cuccaro, Paige]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Paranormal, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy, Paranormal & Urban, Series, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Jeaniene Frost, J.R. Ward, urban fantasy, Select, entangled, paranormal romance, paige cuccaro, Hellsbane, Otherworld, forbidden romance, angels and demons
ISBN: 9781505594355
Google: 1ZcdrgEACAAJ
Amazon: B00GETG0AA
Publisher: Entangled: Select Otherworld
Published: 2014-12-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

I don’t know how long I sat deep in the ancient monastery of Petra. The fire under Jukar’s caldron had gone out, turning the vast room into the empty cave it once was: black, devoid of even the faintest light. I didn’t care.

The ache of angelic spirit burning through my veins had left my body numb. The fact that Jukar was able to alter my DNA, that I had been born with the ability to become this lethal mix of angel and human, left my thoughts in a twisted mess. I was exhausted, mentally and physically, weary down to my bones, down to my soul.

I closed my eyes, desperate to shut out the memories of what had happened and how many angels had paid the price.

When I opened my eyes again, I knew I’d passed out, but I didn’t feel the slightest bit rested. I pushed to my feet in the utter blackness, wanting to talk to Michael and instantly sensing his location. I called my power to transport me to the National Aviary in Pittsburgh’s North Side.

I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face, but the moment my powers coalesced inside me, a flutter of wings stirred the silence. Before my brain could recognize the sound, I stood at the entrance to the wetlands exhibit.

I stumbled forward, catching myself with both hands on the metal and glass door. It felt like I’d moved faster than normal, my momentum more than I’d anticipated. That couldn’t be. I was already faster than any illorum, nearly as fast as the Fallen. Dear God, what kind of a freak was I now?

“Excuse me, lady.”

I jumped, twisting around to see a pint-sized, curly-haired kid staring up at me. My attention skipped back to his older brother and then to their dad behind them, waiting to go through the door to the wetlands room. Had they seen me arrive? I stepped back and slapped the button for the automatic door. “Sorry.”

The guy smiled, hustling his kids in front of him with one hand, the other gripped around a video camera at his side, filming nothing at the moment. “Thanks.”

I followed a few steps back, the door swishing closed behind me. The boys rushed ahead, their father lifting the camera to track their progress. If they’d seen anything unusual they didn’t show it. I hung back just inside the door, scanning the tropical room: the high, glass ceiling, the windowed walls behind the trees, the long, muddy pond.

“Birdies, Daddy. Lookie, the birdies.” The littlest of the munchkins squealed, racing along the brick walkway toward the center of the room where low bleachers sat between two tall cages. A three-foot wire fence made the barrier between visitors and feathered residents, though the residents were free to cross as they pleased. I glanced ahead of the kid and noticed the birds perched in a row along the top wire.

There must’ve been twenty of them right in front of the bleachers. More birds weighed down the nearby branches and waddled along the brick floor.

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