Since it’s been a long while since I’ve been on track with anything (something I’m addressing now daily), I am diving back full swing into building my platform and wanted to share this with all of you guys.
Here’s is the rough draft prologue to the second book in The Genesis Trilogy, East of Eden. My editor hasn’t even seen this yet! Hope you guys like the tease!
At first, I thought dying wouldn’t be so bad. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. After all, I had given my life to make sure that Camael and Adam would live.
A decision that would haunt me forever. Haunt us both.
Enoch had given the Celestial realm the opportunity to build their own course—strike their own path. Six months had passed since then, since Adam had left the fold in ways that none of us could have ever imagined.
Enoch had given us back our mortality. The right to die. The right to live. The right to be free.
But my never-ending distrust of anyone around me kept me from trusting this truth. I had seen Hell with my own two eyes, learned magic from well-known demons, and traveled to the realm of the angels as one of them.
I was Eve.
The first woman according to Genesis, but in all honesty, I was far from such a thing. The female gender had existed long before me and would exist long after me, more so now that I was back to being mortal like the rest of humanity.
I was merely the first female human being.
The powers that be, The Seraphim, had chosen Adam and me to watch over Vilon and the Garden of Eden. We were supposed to be Mother Earth and Father Sky, the protectors of Assiyah. Its guardians.
What I didn’t realize at the time was how I would be tricked and played, bent and molded to accommodate the whims of gods and men.
Gods so they claimed. Angels really. Mortal now.
Just like me.
I could see Camael staring at me from across the way. We had come back to this same spot every week at midnight and stood in silence. Perhaps coming to terms with Fate. Perhaps coming to terms with the death of Raphael and Adam.
Why, you fool?! Why?
Camael’s pain still burned my ears and tore into my heart, each time making my soul bleed for him. I knew what it had cost him to protect me, to protect us both. In doing so, he had betrayed Heaven one last, final time by killing a fellow angel.
As he flipped Adam’s corpse off him, all that remained of his humility had gone with him.
I have never murdered anyone in my life.
Until now. Until he was forced to exact revenge.
Until Adam had attacked me.
I still didn’t have all of my memories back, but one by one they were returning.
After the battle, neither Matt nor Mammon had returned, the latter of the two striking Camael harder than anything else. One of his best friends and second in command, Mammon had never surfaced, and no amount of scrying had delivered his corpse.
I kept trying to convince Camael that Mammon may have still been alive. After all, he was the weapons-master of Hell and an Archdemon no less. If anyone could survive, it would have been him.
Unlike the Celestials, they never had wings. They were warriors through and through. They had never seen Heaven. They didn’t want to.
But now everything changed.
One innocuous instant and the afterlife was fair game for all. But with each door our actions had opened, more questions followed.
Whatever advantage I thought we had gained proved otherwise the more I thought about it. Prior to the deal I had contrived with Enoch, only Lamafuere could kill an angel. Now anything could. Gunshots. Hypothermia. Anaphylactic shock. The list went on and on.
My angel was human indeed, and it terrified me.
In the months we had spent together in Gehenna and Sheol, I had learned what I needed to keep Camael out of my head unless I wanted him there.
Or at least he had learned to differentiate when I minded him there, and when I welcomed the company. Because what I would soon realize was that we were going to need more than each other’s company if we were going to win the new war cresting the horizon.
We were going to need a plan.
A plan, and an army.
Too bad we were stock out of both.