Now that she’s found him
again, all Mia Crawford wants is some downtime with her fallen angel boyfriend,
Michael. But the call of duty keeps him away—from school and from her—with more
demons to smite than ever.
When Michael is mortally wounded by a cursed
sword, Mia must perform an ancient blood ritual to save him. But the spell
exacts a price. Haunted by visions of war, torture, and despair, Mia discovers
the world is in more danger than she ever imagined. Behind the scenes, an evil
adversary pulls all the strings.
After redemption, there’s Hell to pay.
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Light
from the near-full moon shimmers off the leaves of sycamore trees, and the
scent of pomegranate hangs in the air. Though my footfalls are silent on the
hard-packed earth, Hell is never far away. Nor is that blood-stained rack that
was my prison for millennia. The memory of my master’s claws still stings my
throat; the poison of his hate burns below the skin. Perhaps it always will.
The only reality I’ve come to know is that my pain satisfies him.
Anka
sleeps on a grass mat, her lithe, young form curled into a fetal position on
the roof of her family’s mud brick house. Strands of her long, black hair are
stuck to her cheekbones from the heat. The girl is old enough to be married but
will be taken to the temple of Seth in the morning instead. Rumors of her
prophetic dreams have secured her place as an oracle. Such a gift interests my
master too, and as influential as Seth is among the Egyptian people, he’s a
false god, my master’s
rival. A demon warlord just like him.
Her
father snores deeply, but the stifling air makes her mother fitful. The woman
twists and turns. Does she anticipate me? I stand over the girl and contemplate
how to take her without waking them. Their terror alone would sound a call to
all the scavengers along the Nile, and my master wants her soul intact. More
power that way. In servitude or sacrifice, souls are the fuel that builds
empires.
My
hand hovers over her nose and mouth, and her soft breath tickles my skin. I
could suffocate her while she dreams, a silent, seemingly natural death. Or I
could carve out her heart, a symbolic gesture. He’d take pleasure in that. If
I’m fast enough, she won’t have time to cry out or wake the others. I run my
fingers over the middle of her chest and extend my claws.
A Canadian-born author, Lisa Voisin spent her childhood daydreaming and
making up stories, but it was her love of reading and writing in her teens that
drew her to Young Adult fiction.
Lisa also leads a writing group for teens in North Vancouver, works as
a technical writer, and teaches meditation. Her debut YA novel, The Watcher,
won the Chanticleer award for best paranormal fiction.
A self-proclaimed coffee lover, she can usually be found writing in a
local café. When she's not writing, you'll find her hiking in the mountains to
counteract the side effects of drinking too much caffeine!
Though she’s lived in several cities across Canada, she currently lives
in Vancouver, B.C. with her fiancé and their two cats.
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