Exodus (Imp Series Book 8) Read Online Free PDF

with wings.
    Sometimes the Iblis weapon hit like a sleepy toddler with a cloth rattle, sometimes with the force of a megaton bomb. Now it seemed to wound. Red flew from angel bodies and wings as my opponents screamed in shock at the weapon and turned their swords on me.
    I ran, firing blindly behind me. From the shrieks of pain, I must have been hitting something or someone. I wasn’t about to turn around to see. There was no way I was risking myself in hand-to-hand combat with hundreds of angels. I’d run until they gave up chasing me around and decided to fight some other angel, then I’d sneak back in and blast a few more.
    By the time I made it to what had been the parking lot, I was fairly certain I’d outrun them. Just to make sure I ducked behind an overturned VW and looked back. Yep. No angels. Readying my shotgun, I trotted back out and into the melee, shooting as I went. Three angels fell, and I hoped they were the rebels. Just as I was wondering what kind of horrible report I’d need to fill out for a friendly fire incident, my arm was ripped from my shoulder.
    The shotgun clattered to the ground and vanished. I ducked, but not soon enough as a sword sliced across the top of my head. Blood gushed into my eyes, and I reached out blindly and grabbed hold of someone, feeling the edge of a blade score my back.
    It wasn’t easy fighting with blood in my eyes, but I’m sure it wasn’t easy trying to use a sword with an imp wrestling you to the ground either. I had no weapon, so I did the next best thing, I head-butted the angel. And I kept head-butting him as my arms wrapped around him like a vice and my legs tangled in his. I felt us fall and twisted to ensure I was the one who ended up on top. And once down, I kept bashing him with my head and fist until the blood cleared enough for me to see.
    I was on top of an unconscious angel—one who was covered in blood. I wasn’t sure if it was my blood or his, but he was definitely down for the count. Wiping the red haze from my eyes, I fixed my scalped head and recreated my arm, then snatched the angel’s sword. I might suck at sword fighting, but I needed a spare weapon—especially since my own liked to come and go at will.
    I’d barely risen to my feet when some fucker rammed a sword through me. It burned, and I felt the pain all the way through to my spirit self. Fuck, these things weren’t normal swords. Like mine and Gregory’s, they had the power to damage far more than just the physical. Which meant I was in trouble.
    Gritting my teeth against the pain spreading through my midsection I threw myself forward, twisting as I went down on top of the bloody, unconscious angel. My momentum pulled the sword from my opponent’s grasp and gave me the chance to pivot around, swinging my borrowed sword in a wide arc. It slid through the angel’s legs like butter. Learning my lesson, I didn’t stop to admire my handiwork, but rotated around like a crazy tornado, slicing any angels who happened to come close. Two rotations and my Iblis weapon appeared in my other hand, this time in its sword form.
    And now I had two. I danced off the bloody, unconscious angel, sword still protruding through my midsection as I spun my way around the debris, hacking away with the most inelegant sword play in this history of warfare.
    The angels had clearly been trained in this, and in spite of my crazy two-sword attacks, I began to sprout red slashes all over my body. Blood once again ran into my eyes, and one of my opponents punched the sword sticking out of my gut, sending a wave of agony through me. I wanted to stop and pull the fucking thing out. I wanted to fix my physical wounds. I wanted to down a bottle of vodka and take a long drunken nap. But I knew this was a fight for my life. For some reason, these angels blamed me for all the woes of Aaru, and they were determined to end me here, in the ruins of a Marriott conference center. The only things stopping them were my two