They hunt angels on the highway.
Amanda’s
road trip across the USA is a reward for graduating from college—and an
opportunity to record her traveler podcast. On her drive, she gets the
adventure she’s seeking after nearly being knocked off the highway.
There she has a chance encounter with a shadowy man wearing shades.
Danger
follows. A devil named Lilith directs her motorcycle gang to crash into
Amanda’s car. The stranger in shades saves her. He calls her an angel,
destined for ascension to heaven. That doesn’t sound so bad, until he
explains that it means she’s going to die on this trip if she stays on
the road.
Well, Amanda won’t disappoint her podcast fans. And as
she drives in search of adventure, the devils won’t stop pursuing her.
Not before they steer her into even more danger. There’s more trouble in
store for her, all set as a trap to bring the man she’s falling in love
with closer to damnation.
Content warning: This novel contains sexual scenes, adult situations, and profanity.
John felt the
rumble of his engine and the slow drift of his car, almost hypnotic, as he sped
across the desert. Multicolored light rushed past the edges of his windshield,
splashing like colored raindrops and sparks. A mountain rose on the horizon. It
left him behind as fast as it had appeared. Every inch his steering wheel
turned was a sharp turn. He tracked the road following the lines lit by his
headlights, cars passing over the deserted highway every few seconds, though
they were miles apart. When he had first driven the car years ago, he had
gripped the wheel tightly with the realization that an impact with anyone on
the highway at this speed would be fatal—not for him but for anyone he collided
with. Now, seasoned and worn, having wandered for years, he passed cars as if
they were hills and valleys.
He pressed
harder on the gas. The hills and horizon bent before his eyes. At this speed,
every mile was a turn. This fast, the car itself aided him in impossible turns
beyond his senses. He’d be invisible to the human eye now, visible only to,
perhaps, spirits and specters of the dead stuck in this cesspool of a world,
like him.
He felt
desolation. Blessed loneliness. So he headed for his sanctuary.
Less than ten
minutes from Arizona, he found himself in another desert. In Denver the
temperature had been in the eighties during the day. Here in the Mojave Desert
in the middle of the night, it was a nice seventy outside.
He slowed down
as he approached his favorite spot. The drops of light stopped bouncing off the
glass. The colors faded. Then he was in darkness in a canyon. But even if the
sun were out, it’d be completely barren.
He turned on a
dirt road only he knew about. In another moment, he was there.
Before him was
a vast field of sand and salt. He shut off his headlights, and it was pitch
black except the bright stars above. He got out of the car, and his black boots
crackled along dry, caked dirt. Then he put his hands in his pockets and walked
away from his car.
That’s when the
images came. Usually he turned from them. Not after seeing Amanda. The images
always came to him more clearly when he was in the dark. He never slept because
of them. Now he longed for them while awake. Now he could sift through them to
try to make sense of the new mark. Amanda. To see if she really was who he
thought she was. Perhaps he had only imagined the resemblance?
In a short
time, a picture came to his mind as vivid as the stars.
He was on the
beach in Southern California. It was afternoon. But just as now, he had his
thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, was wearing shades, and was staring out at
the sea.
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