He deserves it, doesn't he?
Someone screeching forced Lake into consciousness. His eyes throbbed when he opened them. He hadn’t drunk that much, had he?
Melody towered over him, scowling at him like he was a puppy that had peed on a new rug. “Get up.”
Lake rolled over, pain shooting across his back. Using alcohol to sleep always caused him to change. He’d pass out looking normal and wake up with wings. Carefully maneuvering himself so as not to bend the leathery appendages, he turned to his mother. “What?”
“Don’t give me lip.” Melody eyed him with disgust. “You’re just like your father. No sense of responsibility while I slave away.”
“You’re on disability.”
Melody raised her hand as if to strike, but didn’t. “Ungrateful freak! Who feeds you? Keeps a roof over your head? Gives you money so you can buy clothes?”
“Me,” Melody snapped. “If I had my way, I would have gotten rid of you a long time ago.”
“Too bad you didn’t throw me into a dumpster when I was born and save yourself the trouble of raising me,” Lake shot back. “But then you wouldn’t be getting those nice checks you use to buy more booze, would ya?”
Melody trembled with anger, but didn’t dispute him. How could she? It was the truth. She spun unsteadily on her heels, tripping as she stalked to the door. “Get rid of those things on your back and get ready for school.” The door slammed shut, causing a book to tumble off the dresser.
Running his talons through his curls, Lake focused on getting rid of those things on his back. Normal looking, he gathered semi-clean clothing and found his backpack. Slinging it over one shoulder, he trudged through the trailer. “Bye, Mom, see you after school.”
Melody grunted in reply. A drink was already in her hand. Lake bit back a comment that would have gotten him into more trouble, and headed out the door. A group was gathered at the trailer park entrance, waiting for the school bus. They glanced at him and then shuffled away.
Why did his father abandon him before he was born? Why leave him in this dump?
Maybe you’re not worth it, a voice whispered. He wanted nothing to do with his freak-of-nature son.
Lake scoffed. The girl nearest eyed suspiciously him and scooted closer to the others. He didn’t need some internal voice telling him he was unwanted. The looks he received from everyone told him that.
Freak. Loser. Dork. Worthless. The list of insults thrown at him was never ending and the words cut deep. He struggled to keep his head up, reminding himself of the truth people didn’t know. One day, while scouring the Internet for answers as to why he sprouted bat-like wings, he stumbled upon the answer. The information had been sparse, but he pieced it together.
He was a Nephilim—the son of an angel. Hardly a freak of nature. If anything, Lake was divine.
Born mortal along with his three brothers, Michael is an Archangel with a specific role–to hunt fallen angels and send them back to Hell. He is determined in his mission, never straying from his appointed path, until he meets Lake Divine, and discovers there may be more to his beliefs than blind duty.
But Lake is not who he seems. Offspring of a human and a fallen angel, a Nephilim, Lake must choose his own destiny–give in to the coldness and embrace the dark, or seek the light and rise above the sins of his father.
Two paths lay before them, but only one has the potential to destroy them both.
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