He doesn't know where he is. He thinks this is his normal life. I don't have time to ruminate about how depressing it is that my brother can't tell the different between normalcy and eternal damnation.

Cynthia Hand

Stichwörter: cynthia-hand



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oh, sixty years, give or take."
"Sixty years." There i go, Clara the parrot. I belong on a pirate's shoulder.

Cynthia Hand

Stichwörter: hallowed unearthly clara-gardner



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And I'm thankful, in that moment, full to the brim with gratitude that Christian is with me. He's here. My partner. My best friend.

Cynthia Hand

Stichwörter: clara-gardner christian-prescott



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I meant it, what I said in hell. You're my glory sword, you know that? My truth.

Cynthia Hand

Stichwörter: clara-gardner christian-prescott



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He thought maybe the purest form of love is letting me go.

Cynthia Hand

Stichwörter: clara



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How do you go on living like normal when you know that something bad’s going to happen?

Cynthia Hand


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Sanity is overrated.

Cynthia Hand


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Who is this?” he asks. “I’ve seen him hanging around you like some lovesick puppy. Is he one of the Nephilim?

Cynthia Hand

Stichwörter: samjeeza



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How's happiness class going, by the way?"
"Okay, so far."
"Are you feeling happy?" he asks with the hint of a smirk.
I shrug. "The professor says that happiness is wanting what you have."
Christian makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. "I see. Happiness is wanting what you have. Well, there you go. So what's the problem, then?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why is the class only okay?"
"Oh." I bit my lip, then confess. "Every time I meditate, I start glowing.

Cynthia Hand

Stichwörter: angels glory page45



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Fog rolls between the blackened trees.
Reminds me of hell, actually.
I pull away from Tucker, shivering.
God, I need therapy, I think.
Right. As if I can picture telling my story to a shrink, stretched out on a sofa talking about how I'm part angel, how all angel-bloods have this purpose we're put on earth to fulfill, how on the day of my purpose I happened to bump into a fallen angel. Who literally took me to hell for about five minutes. Who tried to kill my mother. And how I fought him with a type of holy light. Then I had to fly off to save a boy from a forest fire, only I didn't save him. I saved my boyfriend instead, but it turns out that the original boy didn't need saving, anyway, because he's part angel, too.
Yeah, somehow I have a feeling that my first visit to a therapist would end up with me in a straitjacket getting comfy in my new padded cell.

Cynthia Hand


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