by Loralie Hall
Ronnie has the job any entry-level angel or demon would sell their soul for—she's a retrieval analyst for the largest search engine in the world. Ubiquity is a joint initiative between heaven and hell. Because what better way to track all of humanity's secrets, both good and bad, than direct access to their web browsing habits.
She might appreciate the position a little more if a) she could remember anything about her life before she started working at Ubiquity, b) the damn voice in her head would just shut up already, and c) her boss wasn't a complete dickhead.
As she searches for solutions to the first two issues, and hopes the third will work itself out in performance reviews, she uncovers more petty backstabbing than an episode of Real Housewives, and a conspiracy as old as Lucifer's descent from heaven. On top of all that, if she forgets the cover sheet on her TPS report one more time, she's absolutely going on final written warning.
Now Ronnie’s struggling to keep her sanity and job, while stopping the voice in her head from stealing her life. She almost misses the boredom of data analysis at Ubiquity. Almost.
Lucifer wasn’t alone. The stranger glanced up, steel-blue eyes locking with mine. A few days growth of black stubble decorated his chin, and his mud-caked boots rested on Lucifer’s desk, the occasional flake dropping down to mar the shine. It wouldn’t scuff the oak finish—Lucifer liked his polished-until-it-was-almost-a-mirror wood too much to let that happen, but it still had to be irritating the hell out of my mentor.
It wasn’t always easy to tell the difference between an angel and a demon—since technically we were all made from the same stuff, and just accomplished our goals differently. But a real angel, one who served order instead of looking for the loopholes which allowed chaos, had a different aura—a smooth glow instead of a kaleidoscope of fractured light.
And the arrogant man with his feet on my boss’s desk was more distinctly angel than anyone I’d ever met. Something about the situation, on top of the last twenty-four hours of my bizarre life, amused me. Who was he? Angels in hell weren’t unheard of, but they disliked our methods enough that visits were rare. I stepped toward him. With his dark hair, light eyes, and an obvious disdain for the most powerful demon in existence, he was sexy, and compelling, and—
If you’ll stop swooning, I can kill that bastard. Right here and now. Draw your sword
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Loralie Hall is a full time corporate geek and a fuller time writer. Her spouse is her muse and their cats are very much their children. When they’re not spending way too much time gaming, they’re making the world more good by vanquishing one fictional evil at a time.
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