Night Angel Series By Brent Weeks Novels & Stories

❞ this invitation. Angel doesn't like night parties because she doesn't like the darkness that hides danger, but right now she doesn't care about her own safety anymore because, even to live, she feels she doesn't deserve it. Her twin died because of her; her sister paid for her carelessness. It was as if she would carry this feeling forever—the feeling that she couldn't sleep or eat because she felt guilt. Should she blame herself? An accident is an accident; no one likes it, but why can't we avoid feeling guilty about it? But at this point, she is taking on everything; she's the one who made a mistake and the one who must pay the merciless world for her wounded heart.

“Now listen, girl. You have to realize that you have opened a whole lot of darkness, by falling in love with a fallen angel like Azrael.” “He isn’t a fallen angel, Grandmother Willow.” Ava turned towards her with a glare within her eyes. Something that the spirit was glad to see, other than the pain. “He is the Angel of Death, not a fallen angel. He was a given a job to collect souls for God.”

I scratched my nails against the stubble along my jaw even though I would rather punch someone, preferably whomever would betray her. Angel was a pure soul. She already truly embodied everything that a Luna should be. She cared deeply about everyone, wanting them to feel like they belonged, and doing everything that she could to ensure that they had someone to lean onto. Grant and I locked eyes. We nodded and squared our shoulders. Nobody would touch her. We would destroy them first.

He started, lowering his gaze on his lap for a few moments, “Usually, only the ones who had fallen from grace have black wings...” “But I...” He paused again for a moment, “Because of who I am, I was also blessed with neutrality...which means that I can freely walk in both Heaven and Hell as well, completely unaffected.” “Why?” I simply asked, suddenly drawing his attention back on me. He sighed, his deep blue orbs twinkling with an emotion I obviously failed to read as he stared deep into my eyes, “I am the Archangel of Death, Blake. This is my job. I have to guide the souls to their final destination, whether is to heavenly peace or eternal torment...” He quietly explained, making me sudde

he said shyly, lowering his head, as if not wanting to make eye contact with me when he spoke his name. I was just about ready to tell him it was nice to meet him, but then his name triggered a memory from my childhood of a fairytale story my father told me as a child, about a trio of brother angels that fell from the heavens from above. The first angel’s name was Ariel, with wings as white as snow, and eyes as blue as the sky, and was the bearer of good. The second angel’s name was Michael, who was the middle brother that wanted peace among good and evil but lost his fight to balance the two brothers out. The third angel’s name was no other than Gabriel, who had wings as dark as night, with

Instead, visions assaulted her mind like flashes of lightning. At first, the images were hazy, indistinct. A happy family scene unfolded: a little girl giggling between her parents, their faces obscured. The warmth and joy radiating from the trio enveloped her, but she couldn't quite see their faces. Suddenly, the scene shifted. Flames engulfed a house, consuming everything in their path. A triumphant face materialized – Marcus Blackwood's. His eyes gleamed with malice, and her heart sank. Next, a grave appeared, bearing the name Jane Ruth. The little girl's cries echoed through the darkness as she clung to her father's long coat.

I couldn't help but recall the night when I suffered an unbearable stomachache. When I opened the door and saw her, I knew right then—she was the angel in my heart. Even though it was strenuous to carry me on her back, she still forcefully took me to the clinic. From that moment, I eagerly awaited our next meeting. Later, when I saw her in a video Rachel posted online, I realized she was Rachel's roommate. This gave me the perfect excuse. I told Rachel I wanted to visit and conveniently mentioned I had no money.

Everyone’s eyes were on me, taking me in, judging me. “Uh. Hi. I’m Angel. I’m excited to be here.” I say, bowing my head a little before sitting back down. I could feel my cheeks burning with a blush as I did everything in my power not to meet the eyes I could feel watching me. Just as I had formed my opinions of them as they introduced themselves, I knew they were doing the same. Could they tell how nervous I was? Were they judging me for not being from alpha blood?

Every time I pause, even for a second, he makes a small, distressed sound until I resume. "I love you," I whisper against his temple. "So much it hurts." A faint smile touches his blood-stained lips. "Love you... more, Angel. Always." He drifts in and out of consciousness after that, never fully asleep but never fully awake either. Finn's words echo louder in my head now. Azren is getting worse by the hour. The blood coughing is new and terrifying. And tonight... tonight the Werewolf Corps wants him at that meeting. I can't let that happen.