House Of Beating Wings Novels & Stories

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.

She was always on the go, only coming back to Levy Manor for the monthly dinners. "Is that Sorensen cripple coming along too? Just looking at her ruins my appetite." "Bertha didn't invite her. When's that useless cripple, who can't even have kids, going to kick the bucket?" "I still don't get why Elias insisted on marrying that filthy, lowborn trash. Was he trying to drag the Levy name through the mud even further?" Their jeers rang through Levy Manor, biting and harsh, dragging me back to that rainy night two years ago. It was the night someone shoved me to the cold floor of a cellar and hurt me.

“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

Seven’s own gigantic wings were also unfurled to their full, awe-inspiring breadth as he battled with another creature. His sharp wings tore through its rotten flesh with the same ease as a hot knife through butter, splattering thick arcs of black ichor across the blood-stained floor. Yet even as he sliced through his opponent with ferocious efficiency, a sharp cut pierced his wing from joint to tip. Blood welled from the grievous wound, each beat of his mighty pinions sending a fresh spray of droplets through the air. He was bleeding profusely from the deep wound and new drops sprayed into the air every time he moved them.

On the day I returned to the country, my husband, Dan Anderson, who promised to pick me up, sent someone over instead. She met me at the airport and said smugly, “I bet you’re Dan’s so-called girl best friend.” I anxiously instructed her, “Quick, send me to the mansion on Fortune Street.” That morning, my butler had suddenly told me that my grandfather was bedridden. Hence, I took the earlier flight back home. The woman did not move. Instead, she glared at me viciously. “You’re a despicable homewrecker. I’m going to kill you!” I did not see the first slap coming. In my daze, more slaps quickly followed. Fortunately, I had some basic self-defense skills. I quickly tossed her onto