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Back World After Save as PDF
Chapters (81)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication Page
  4. CONTENTS
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  81. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“There’s no such thing as dirty fighting in self-defense.”

He huffs. “I don’t know whether to make fun of him or to respect you.”

“Come on, that one’s easy.”

He grins at me. There’s something in his eyes that makes my insides melt a little, like something deep inside us is communicating without me being fully aware of it.

I’m the first to look away.

I slip the blade into the elastic band of my thigh-high stockings. If they’re tight enough to keep the nylons up when I fight, then they should do a decent job of holding my knife. I’m glad these things are good for something.

I look up and see Raffe watching me. I feel a wave of awkwardness.

Raffe grabs me around the waist and lifts me into his arms like in an old-time movie. His arms cradle my back and knees.

I reflexively wrap my arms around his neck. For a moment, I’m confused, and the silliest thoughts flood through my head.

“Don’t let me go,” he says.

He runs with me toward the bluff. Two steps into it, his wings burst out from their wing coverings. Madeline’s sparkly white feathers explode behind us as giant bat wings spread out.

Freedom in the shape of demon’s wings. I want to laugh and cry at the same time.

I’m in Raffe’s arms, flying.

59

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WE’RE IN THE AIR.

I cling tighter, and he shifts me so that I’m holding on like a kid with my legs wrapped around his middle. He’s warm even as the ocean wind blasts against my back. We pick up altitude to a frightening height, but his arms around me are secure and I can’t help but feel reassured.

That feeling doesn’t last long. Between Raffe’s wings, I get glimpses of what’s behind us.

Tipsy or not, the angels have no trouble lifting off into the air. The sight of demon wings must have incited them because there are more of them chasing us than we saw on the beach. They fly up through wisps of fog lit by pinpoints of firelight as we glide over the black waves.

Angels are supposed to be beautiful creatures of light but the ones chasing us look more like a cloud of demons spewing forth from the mist. Raffe must be thinking something similar because he tightens his grip around my waist as if to say, “not this one.”

He banks into a turn, flying farther away from the shore to where the mist turns into a blanket. He glides lower toward the water where the fog is thicker and the waves are louder.

We’re so low, the sea sprays over me as it surges. Water swells, turning into whitewater and rolling below us. It feels like mile after mile of black and raging surf.