Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days, Book 1) by Susan Ee

By Susan Ee

It’s been six weeks considering angels of the apocalypse descended to demolish the trendy international. road gangs rule the day whereas worry and superstition rule the evening. whilst warrior angels fly away with a helpless little woman, her seventeen-year-old sister Penryn will do something to get her again. whatever, together with creating a care for Raffe, an injured enemy angel. touring via a gloomy and twisted Northern California, they trip towards the angels’ stronghold in San Francisco, the place Penryn will possibility every little thing to rescue her sister and Raffe will positioned himself on the mercy of his maximum enemies for the opportunity to be made complete back.

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Extra info for Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days, Book 1)

Sample text

Whether he really wanted it, or dared refuse it, was another matter. And she knew, by some womanly osmosis, exactly what was needed at that celebration, from the size of marquee to the quantity of summer pudding, and just how much it was reasonable to expect her father to pay. “Here it comes,” she whispered as she squeezed his hand, warning him off another sudden intimacy. The waiters were arriving with their plates of beef, his piled twice the height of hers. They also brought sherry trifle and cheddar cheese and mint chocolates, which they arranged on a sideboard.

Was another. Serious-minded people complained he was burying the nation in an avalanche of TVs, cars, supermarkets and other junk. He let the people have what they wanted. Bread and circuses. A new nation, and now he wanted us to join Europe, and who could say for sure that he was wrong? Steadied at last. Edward’s thoughts dissolved, and he became once more his tongue, the very tip of it, at the same moment that Florence decided she could take no more. She felt pinioned and smothered, she was suffocating, she was nauseous.

How could she have dared risk losing him? There was no one she could have talked to. Ruth, her sister, was too young, and her mother, perfectly wonderful in her way, was too intellectual, too brittle, an old-fashioned bluestocking. Whenever she confronted an intimate problem, she tended to adopt the public manner of the lecture hall, and use longer and longer words, and make references to books she thought everyone should have read. Only when the matter was safely bundled up in this way might she sometimes relax into kindliness, though that was rare, and even then you had no idea what advice you were receiving.

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