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.
I couldn’t do this. She was falling apart in my head and threatening to take me with her. She wanted to believe Michael was telling the truth, but the thought of Gabriel making up such a lie was devastating. Her conflict knocked about in my skull like an avalanche, and I couldn’t find my mental footing long enough to come up for air. I wasn’t going to lose it here. Not again. She wasn’t taking control.
Every inch of me struggled to leave, and I wasn’t going to let her drive me away.
Please. We need to go now. I can’t deal with this.
So I wasn’t unstable, the voice in my head was. Great. I was staying. But I didn’t have any more questions for Michael either. My stomach chose that moment to grumble softly, reminding me I’d been up for a while and hadn’t eaten yet. “Do you want to go get breakfast?” I blurted out.
His eyebrows rose almost to his hairline.
I didn’t know what to do with that response, or lack thereof. “Unless you have places to be.”
“No, not at all. Not for a couple of hours anyway.” His expression relaxed. “You’d think living as long as I have, I’d have learned to keep up with shifting social trends. But I’m still getting used to things like women asking men out.”
He thought… My cheeks flamed at the realization. “I wasn’t … I didn’t mean like a date.” Oh geez, that sounded rude. “Not that I wouldn’t. But, I know angels don’t … not with demons.”
“I just meant—”
He covered my hand with his. “Breakfast sounds great. We don’t have to define it as anything else.”
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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