Powerful, beautiful, and covered in scars…
Brielle, born of a mortal-immortal union between a human mother and the devil Himself, is prophesied to be the one capable of turning the tide in the brewing apocalypse.
As Brielle’s thirtieth birthday draws near, she strikes a deal with the devil and sets out on a journey of self discovery. In an attempt to comprehend what it means to be fully human, Brielle finds herself at the door of her therapist, Adam. Blurring relationship lines and questioning everything, she quickly learns that humanity, vulnerability, and love are things she isn’t prepared to handle. Distancing herself, she finds shelter in her father’s arms once more.
Two worlds are about to collide…
When the archangel Michael suddenly takes a deep interest in Brielle, Lucifer begins to understand that his greatest opponent is curious about more than just her choice. Michael’s fall will be Lucifer’s rise and only Brielle holds the key to making it happen.
With a human, an angel, and a demon all tearing at her heart, Brielle realizes it’s time to decide if her loyalties lie with Michael in Heaven or her father in Hell.
“Can you read everyone’s mind or just hers?”
“Everyone.” She winced in annoyance. She was filled with so much resentment. But whom did the resentment belong to? A particular individual, a group of people, or mankind as a whole? Had she created this supernatural power as a way to feel superior to whoever vexed her? I followed her eyes to what held their gaze. Down below was a couple holding hands. Laughing and in love.
“What are they thinking?” I asked pointing to the happy couple.
She answered as easily as if I had asked her to describe what they were wearing. “She’s in a delusional state he will leave his wife for her.”
I nodded, not revealing any emotion that would show I was not the least bit impressed by her insight. I doubted the two were involved in anything scandalous.
“He…he is hoping to fuck her one last time before he has to end this affair for good.” She stared at them, and then her lips curled up into a sadistic smile. “It would seem she’s quite kinky.”
“All right, Brielle.” I put my notepad face down on my desk, rolled up my shirt sleeves, pulled my paisley tie straight, and crossed my arms. Enough games. “What am I thinking?”
She continued to watch the couple disappear down the city street. “You’re thinking you don’t believe me.”
“Perhaps that’s a bit obvious.” True, but still obvious. Did she just smile again? Hard to tell. She had moved her face away so quick as she walked away. And sat in my chair.
I walked over to my desk and leaned against it, angered how once again she made herself a bit too comfortable, angered that she made me feel angered.
She crossed her legs and bounced the top leg up and down in a restless manner. All the while tapping her painted burgundy fingernails on the armrests. My gaze burned into the back of her head as I sat at my desk. “All right, let’s try again. This time I’ll be more specific. What color am I thinking of?”
“Red…Blue… Red…Gray….Green…Black…Red.” She spun around in the chair, her eyes blazing as she caught me in my treachery. “How am I to give you an answer if you continue to play games with me? Pick one!”
“My god. How on earth did you do that?” Before she was able to answer, I recalled my impure thoughts from before. So unprofessional, so beneath me. It was shameful that she knew I had thought of her in that way. What was I thinking? It was impossible for her to know exactly what my thoughts were. This was absurd. But her response threw me back into my original doubt.
“You think you’re the first man to have an erotic thought about me? Don’t flatter yourself.”
I was still in awe. “How is it possible?”
“It was a gift. A gift from my father. It was bestowed upon me at birth.”
I thought about what she said yesterday. About being human. What are you?
And then as if on cue, she answered. “I’ll give you the weekend to think about it,” she said, her voice calm. For the first time, I watched as her anger began to melt away. There remained true hope shining in her eyes. She walked over to the coat rack and returned her shawl to her bare shoulders, covering her scars, before gliding back over to me once more. She spoke slow, as though I were a child and she wanted to be certain I would understand. She reached over and took my tie in her hands, fixing the knot and straightening it as she spoke. Her touch seemed so familiar, and yet alarming all at once. I wanted to swallow, but I couldn’t move.
“I’ll return on Monday, same time.” She let go of my tie, allowing it to slide through her fingers as she stepped back and walked past me, making sure her shawl brushed against my forearm. It tickled, and I rubbed my exposed skin without thinking. My gaze remained on her as she exited the office the same way she came, cloaked in mystery. It was a trick, a magician’s trick. Everyone knew what a skeptic I was. I considered the possibility I was being set up. This was all a rouse to rattle me somehow. Still, my thoughts, how did she know?
About the author
Kat Daemon grew up in New York where her imagination always seemed to get the best of her. When she’s not hanging with demons, she’s usually armed with a strong cup of coffee and dreaming up her next tormented character. She is the author of the The Darkness Saga and The Blood Clan Chronicles.
You can find out more about Kat and her books at www.katdaemon.com