House Of Beating Wings Novels & Stories

“What? Mom… wait… what are you talking about?” “I can hear your wings. Are you fucking with your wings out? Tsk tsk, don't break my walls!” “Mom, I'm on my way! Go upstairs and get Mera away from my mate!” “What? You're not home?” I dashed into the wind, heading in her direction. “I said get Mera away from him now! She'll kill him!” Each powerful beat of my wings brought me closer and closer to home. Mera's betrayal sliced my heart. Every damn time I kept falling for it! She never stopped until she got a piece of what was mine.

As long as she focused and listened to my thoughts, she would get the exact score. Then she would crush me in public and secure the Foster inheritance. She slowly closed her eyes and gathered her attention. In the dead silence that followed, Sophie began to hum again, completely out of control. "Darling, hold my hand... "Jet 2 holiday... save 50 pounds per person..." For one instant, the entire venue froze. The crowd before the Harborfront screens froze too. Then the live-stream detonated. [Help! She's doing it again! Classic jet 2 holiday returns!]

I said simply. Ofelia didn’t say anything. She just followed me in, her back straight, her silence unreadable. The house looked the same. Leather furniture. Gold-framed artwork. The weird crystal decanter no one ever used but was always polished. A tree stood in the corner of the formal living room, tasteful and absurdly symmetrical. I set the carriers down near the edge of the rug. Spitfire immediately began her perimeter check. Mochi blinked once, stretched, and promptly rolled onto his back like he owned the house.

Her touch was warm, grounding, but when it was gone the silence rushed back in. I took out a book from the shelf,I tried to read it, but the words blurred. I tried to sleep, but my ears caught every creak of the old house. So I lay awake, pistol under my pillow, and my eyes on the ceiling. Outside, the night pressed close, heavy and watchful. And somewhere in the east wing, Beatrice moved like a piece sliding across a chessboard, setting everything into place.

“Oh, gods…” Her breath was scorching hot. Every exhale washed over me like the air from a furnace. One careless movement from me and I would get burned, even one accidental bite and I would be dead. “Please don’t sneeze,” I whispered. The beast blinked one golden eye then, with another powerful roar her enormous wings spread. “Wings?” They unfurled like giant sails, black as midnight and edged with crimson veins. One powerful flap and the beast launched itself into the air. The crowd gasped.

I knew before we even walked in the door that we just pulled up to the new home of Healing Wings. The large chocolate-brown house off Earle Street had white trim and columns. The front door was solid-leaded glass with an intricate floral design, and the hardwoods were cozy and inviting, reflecting the sun from every angle. There were tons of windows allowing light to flood the space, and the high ceilings added to the ambiance, as did the neutral paint colors. Inside, the rooms were sectioned off to become offices, but the foyer was open, leaving space for a receptionist. There was a small kitchen in the back and multiple offices upstairs, and there was an additional building in the backyard

Isn't it enough that my mom killed herself because of my father and now, that arsehole is trying to take me back once again just like before by trying to kill the love of my life as if this is all just a game of hunting for him? I abruptly stood up and it took them by surprise. "Sheesh, Man. Do you really have to do that?!" Heine complained while holding his chest. The other guys shook their heads because of what I did but I ignored all their reactions and stormed out of the dining room and walked passed through the living room where the two kids were playing with Becky to go to our study room. I shut the door closed and walked towards the executive table where I had put my picture with mom.

The audience erupted in thunderous applause, and several world-renowned dancers gave us rave reviews. Marissa wheeled me to center stage. Since the incident, this was my first time stepping onto a stage again as a choreography consultant. I bowed my head alongside the other dancers, grateful for the audience's support. This time, the flashing cameras and the eyes of strangers didn't scare me. I felt like I had found a new purpose. … Three years later, I choreographed a dance called "The Fallen Butterfly." I performed it entirely from my wheelchair and became the first dancer of my kind.

“His name is Edmond Michael,” Janeka said, mimicking her mother. “The most powerful warlock. He who destroys and takes life as though it were his creation.” “We’re here.” Freya said interrupting the girls who were busy giggling at the impersonation. They had just moved into Weston Hills, a whole new environment and a fresh start. As Hayley pulled her bags out of the trunk she looked over at the house. A middle-class convenient structure with a lush green lawn and daisy bushes that hugged the white picket fence around it which opened up to the stone path leading straight to the front door, it was the limit to Freya’s savings from her part-time job, not much but Hayley had a feeling she was go