I've got the best fashion sense in Heaven. Ask anyone. My style is bright colors and fun fabrics. I really admire the Lolita scene. Minus the parasols. Why block all that delicious sunlight? On a typical day relaxing Earthside, I'll wear a black and white striped A-line dress with neon tights and black patent leather Mary Janes. Fun and functional, ya know? Humans might label me an Elegant Gothic Lolita. I think it fits because I do wear a lot of black, but also like to keep it classy.
I'm also a huge fan of big name designers. Some like to wear unknowns, but not me. The key is to get something original by one of these guys. Vera Wang is the best. She always makes time to create two or three unique pieces for me each year. Don't tell anyone, but that woman is celestially inspired. And no, I am not her Muse. I wish!
Even us Elites have to wear a uniform on the job. I'm not a fan of the plain white tank and baggy pants we wear on official business. No color. No ruffles or fringe. No jewelry. Boring. I get around it by braiding shiny adornments in my hair. Raguel, the archangel who created me, gave me beautiful violet and white colors, but no shiny. Charouth got shiny. Am I jealous? A little, but she's my bestie. Besides, what I lack in glitter, I make up in flair.
Onomata appears in Angel's Awakening and Blood Awakening. She patiently awaits her turn to take center stage and tell her story.
Blurb for BLOOD AWAKENING:
Following the Incident on Fifty-Seventh Street, humans scattered, demons thrived and the City That Never Sleeps was in a coma.
When she asked him for help to find her missing blood donor, Kissera never guessed what Lucifer would demand in return. Amidst the violence of a Netherworld insurrection threatening to spill Earthside, a new love unfolds.
Kissera's got cold steel and iron determination on her side. How far will she need to go to retrieve what's rightfully hers? When you play with Lucifer, someone's bound to get hurt.
After a disgraceful two thousand year demotion, Charouth is a heartbeat away from regaining her status as one of Heaven's Elite angels. Her final mission: to retrieve five rare artifacts and prevent Satan's escape from Hell. A formidable task that becomes nearly impossible when Azazel, Satan’s top relic hunter and her ex-lover, joins the quest.
Bloody confrontations with the worst the Netherworld has to offer land her further away from redemption than ever, forced to choose between duty or desire. Two thousand years ago, their passion defied Heaven and Hell. Will love blossom again, or will ancient allegiances tear them apart forever?
Angel's Awakening is on sale at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes and Kobo.
Dawn kissed the sky as Charouth slunk back to the West Village townhouse. She quietly shut the front door then collapsed against it. Each time she saw Azazel her mind went spinning in fifty different directions. She put a finger to her lips. They still burned with the intensity of his kiss. She closed her eyes, savoring the memory.
“I hope you’re thinking about the new Vera Wang collection and a not certain demon.” Onomata bounced down the stairs and into the kitchen, pigtails flying.
Charouth straightened up, composed herself, and followed her friend.
“How’d the auction go?” Onomata asked while slicing up a pan of baklava cooling on the counter. No knife for her. She preferred the lazy angel way of channeling energy through a fingertip and slicing it that way. Charouth grinned. Such a showoff.
Charouth grabbed a piece and bit in. Sweet honey trickled down her throat. She licked her lips. Good. Not as good as Azazel’s kiss, though.
“Fine. I have a lead.”
“Goodie! Tell me.”
“This vampire runs an antiques place in Soho.”
Mata’s face twisted in disgust.
“She’s got an impressive collection of ancient texts.”
“What’s she got that we don’t?”
Charouth shrugged. “That’s what I’m going to find out.”
“How’d you get her to talk?”
“Complimented her shoes, of course.”
Onomata beamed. “I told you. Didn’t I tell you?”
“Yes, you were right.”
Charouth came up behind Onomata and slid her arms around her waist. She leaned her head against Onomata’s back, sinking into the softness of violet and white feathers. Onomata reached back to caress her head.
“What’s going on, sweetie?”
Charouth swung around to face her. “I don’t know if I can do this. Remiel asks too much. I’m not good with demons. That’s Graph’s thing.”
“He has faith in you. So do I. This is your chance to come back. He wouldn’t set you up to fail. He wants you back with us. You can do this.”
Bless her heart. Onomata was always her biggest cheerleader. That angel had enough optimism to fuel an entire legion.
“I’m not sure.”
Charouth shook her head. “It’s not as simple as I thought. Being Earthside is,” she paused and took a bite of baklava. “Strange. Too many distractions.”
The sweet and nutty goodness brought back memories of Azazel seductively licking honey off her body, tongue lapping at sun kissed skin. Her cheeks warmed.
“Whoa girl. Whatever you got goin’ on in your head? I want some.”
“It’s nothing. Being around all those demons has got me flustered. I’m gonna take a bath.”
Onomata tilted her head to the side, violet eyes filled with concern. “Whatever’s going on, you can tell me.”
“No, I can’t.” Charouth’s shoulders slumped, wings dragging on the floor. It killed her to keep secrets from Mata after all that they’d been through together at the Library working for Zagzagel or serving the archangels. How many millennia of having each other’s backs, yet she couldn’t tell her friend that she was falling for Azazel all over again. That she’d never gotten over him. Onomata would be furious, and she’d be right. “I’ll be fine,” she said ascending the stairs. “Probably need more sun. Energy’s running low.”
Onomata grunted her disapproval. She knew something was up. How could she not?
Akaria Gale lives in Brooklyn with her husband, children and a disgruntled cat. She is a native New Yorker, slow cooker enthusiast, hard cider advocate who occasionally finds time to write about the secret world right underneath our noses. One day she hopes to give winter the middle finger and become a beach bum.