My Avenging Angel Read Online Free PDF Page A

need for the familiar as a form of protection. But against Michael or her own fanciful inclinations? A psychologist would have a field day with her issues.
    Michael was exactly were she had left him when she exited the closet, staring intently out the bedroom window. She waited for him to say something, turn toward her, acknowledge her presence—anything, and when he didn’t, she snapped.
    “You wanted to talk, so talk.”
    Michael glanced over his shoulder, a slight smile on his lips. “Where are your spirits?”
    Tory shrugged, surprised not only by his question but by the fact she hadn’t heard a peep from either Sam or Thomas since her spell bringing Michael to her had gone haywire. “They’re around here somewhere.”
    Michael nodded, glancing back out the window a moment before finally turning to face her. “And how long have you been able to see the dead?”
    Tory lifted her shoulders again carelessly. “I hear them more than I actually see them. And they have been around for as long as I can remember. Since I was a child.”
    “Who was the witch, your mother or your father?”
    His question raised memories Tory would just as soon forget. The truth of who and where she came from was something she had spent years wishing she could change. It was knowledge she still had not come to terms with, but unfortunately she knew she had to reveal because she suspected it had everything to do with why she was now being hunted.
    “I don’t remember much about my parents. I think they both died when I was five. My mother was a drunk but totally human. My father, or at least the man my mother had claimed was my father, was…” Her voice faltered, too embarrassed to ever give voice to the disgusting truth. Wrapping her arms around her torso, she sank onto the edge of the bed.
    “Was what?” Michael asked quietly.
    “Ari said he was a warlock,” Tory confided and flinched, waiting for his reaction. She knew as an angel Michael couldn’t help but be disgusted. Witches were white spell casters, men and women who devoted their lives to doing good. Warlocks were the complete opposite. Filled with greed, they aided demons in their evil work for profit and gain, intentionally giving up their souls in the process. They were everything angels despised.
    “Was he under the command of Asmodeus?”
    Surprised by the lack of revulsion in Michael’s voice, Tory jerked her gaze up, shocked to find him kneeling at her feet. He lifted a hand, his fingers reaching out to gently stroke her jaw before cupping the back of her neck.
    “I truly do not know. My father had little use for me or my mom, only coming around when he needed something, probably sex, I really do not remember. But even at four or five, I knew there was something wrong with him, so my guess would be yes, he was under Asmodeus’s command. He felt evil.”
    “Can you still? Sense this evil in individuals, I mean?”
    “And goodness,” she said with a nod. “It has gotten stronger in the last couple of months. It was why Ari insisted I call forth an angel. She believed this extrasensory perception will soon be mutual, and that this demon will finally be able to find me.”
    Michael’s facial features seemed to freeze in place and he snarled, “How long has he been hunting you?”
    Tory, surprised by the rage dancing in his eyes and the flexing muscle in his jaw, shrugged. “I never knew until recently he even existed. The three stooges managed to hide all knowledge of him from me as effectively as they had hid me from him.”
    “What of spell casting? I can feel the power in you. Have you not thought to use a spell?”
    Tory rolled her eyes. Did he think she was stupid? Then she recalled the times he had said as much. Asshole . “Yes, I’ve tried every spell I have been able to get my hands on. None of them have worked, but it’s not exactly like I’ve had anyone to teach me this shit. There’s only been Ari, Sam and Thomas.”
    “Yes. A hunter, a