The Second Sign
By Elizabeth Arroyo
Synopsis:
Bred to believe in the war between angels and demons, Gabby has come to the conclusion that love is responsible for war, jealousy, and all the other deadly sins she can think of. So when she’s exiled to the middle of nowhere for getting kicked out of her fifth school for fighting, she doesn’t expect to meet Jake. Much less fall in love. But Jake is quickly drawn to the eerie beauty of her violet eyes while Gabby is unsettled by their undeniable connection.
When a demon guardian comes to collect her soul, she refuses to give it up. She’s not a demon. She can’t be. Her father and twin brother are angels. The demon gives Gabby twenty-four hours to decide her allegiance, and then starts killing her short list of friends, leaving a message behind: She is the Second Sign. As Gabby and Jake begin to unravel the mystery behind the Second Sign, she learns Jake may be the key to saving her soul. But it means a sacrifice has to be made that will change their lives forever.
Author Bio:
Born and raised in Chicago, Illinois, the youngest of five, Elizabeth spent most of her younger years as an avid reader with a wild imagination which led her to write her first manuscript at the age of fourteen.
Her fascination with the paranormal was influenced by the vivid ghost and demon stories of her father, scaring the crap out of her. It also led her to ask the "what if" question that propelled her down the path of the fantastical.
But, life got in the way. Elizabeth completed a Bachelors degree in Psychology with a minor in Criminal Justice at Northeastern Illinois University and works in the community strengthening families.
But her love of stories held, and in 2008 she found herself back into her storytelling roots and began writing again. Since then she's published a short story in SQ Magazine, countless musings on her blog - Chandara Writes (her muse), and completed three manuscripts.
In 2012, Elizabeth signed with Sapphire Star Publishing to release her debut novel, THE SECOND SIGN, a Dark YA Paranormal Romance, slated for an early 2013 release. Elizabeth still resides in Chicago’s south west side with her family, a household of kids, and the bliss of chaos. The good kind. She continues to work in the community. You can follow her journey on her Blog chandarawrites.blogspot.com
Author Links:
My Review
I really enjoyed this book, it was an interesting take on good vs. evil, and free will and all that. Free will is a major factor throughout this book. Even though you would think that angels and demons have a genetic disposition to be good or bad they still have free will. Unlike many other books with angels and demons, some of them do not have free will. These do and that is how fallen angels are declared. But Gabby is not a fallen angel as it may look by the cover, no. She is something entirely unique and unknown. I wont be telling you what, you need to find out on your own, by reading this great book.
I love books with angels and demons, and other creatures. I always find myself pulled into the book, and can’t stop reading. This also happened with this book. I also really like the cover, even if it’s a bit mis-leading , as I was thinking at first she was a fallen angel, by the cover alone.
The book really got intriguing when Gabby was sent to the cabin with her brother, and where she meets daredevil Jake. There is also more to Jake than she knows. I was instantly hooked.
I found the forbidden love in this fascinating, as it is different than most, it can actually start a war.
I found the few graphic murder scenes pretty dark and horrifying, but it does show us how awful the demons in this book are. It’s pretty dark, but I didn't mind it. I am a paranormal fan.
I think the writing was top notch. I highly recommend this book. 5 out of 5 stars for me.
I was provided a copy of this book by the author for my honest review.
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Excerpt
Chapter One
The Intruder
The floorboards creaked under the Intruder as he walked up the aisle of the small church. Moving shadows crept along the walls, brought to life by the flickering candles that rimmed the nave. Looming carved pieces, depicting the last moments of the prophet vital to this particular religion’s history, hung between stained glass windows. The deity's name didn't matter, known as many different names in the world. What mattered was that people believed.
Belief was power.
The Intruder sauntered toward the altar, a hint of incense in the air. A stone baptismal fountain laid on the floor to his left, large enough to bathe a child or drown one depending on your intent. His eyes settled on the iconic figure crucified and displayed for all to see. He found a moment’s peace gazing up at the idolized portrayal of death. Crucifixion was a martyr's death, instilling fear in those that witnessed it. Fear begets conformity in all creatures. The Intruder looked down at his own palms, tracing his own scars with his thumb. There were many ways to kill a man. But only one way to kill a soul.
Genuflecting, he crossed himself as was the customary fashion, and then slid into a pew and leaned forward, his head bowed in reverence. He no longer prayed, had forgotten how over the many centuries. Memories were blurred in his mind, unable to remember his true name. The reference of time held no meaning for him. Nothing mattered but peace of mind.
He lifted his head and gazed upon a statue of one of the Fallen. The Fallen's arm was raised high over his head as if to shield himself from an expected blow. A serpent coiled around his leg up his waist, its tail curled around his wrist holding him down to the base, his mouth open in a silent eternal scream.
The Intruder knew one day he would meet the same fate. But not yet. He had work to finish still. Peace was all he wanted.
He inhaled deeply. A door creaked and footsteps approached. The echoes pounded in his ears.
“May I help you?” a man's voice asked.
The Intruder scowled. Peace was never afforded to the wicked. “I've come for the rite of confession,” he said, his voice thick.
The man smiled, momentarily smoothing out the deep lines of his face. His white thinning hair almost glowed against his black cleric shirt. His Roman collar opened at the throat meant he was almost done for the evening. Almost.
“Good. The young seem to have forgotten the meaning of the word,“ the man responded. His soft gray eyes sparkled in the dim light. “Come, let us sit closer to the altar. The pews have gotten too hard for an old man.“ The priest led him to two cushioned chairs near the altar. “Sit, sit.“
The Intruder sat.
The priest waited for him to begin.
“Sorry, Father, for I have sinned. It's been quite a while since my last confession,“ he began. The words flowed easily. He had done this countless times before he passed into something else, before the chaos claimed his life. “I'm afraid I’ve done unspeakable things.” He spoke the words slowly, monotonous.
The Intruder leaned forward, clasping his hands together, his thumb circling the scar along his palm. It would always be a reminder of who he was and what he had become.
“I've been summoned to start a war.“ He paused, lifted his head to eye the priest. “Many will die and one will be reborn.” Something awoke inside him, a feral anger that lingered on the edge of his mind.
The Intruder held the priest’s gaze and retreated into his more visceral senses, unable to refute the evil that lurked inside him. The priest’s heart pounded rhythmically in his chest pushing and pulling his lifeblood. Dry grass and earth wafted into the Intruder’s nostrils and the acrid stench of incense forced him to suppress the urge to gag.
The priest’s face paled. His wrinkled hands trembled in the waning light.
The Intruder stood up and made his way to the baptismal fountain, knelt at the base and dipped his finger in the holy water. The tepid water sent ripples of heated pleasure and pain through him. Touching the tip of his finger to his forehead, he crossed himself again. The water changed to a murky yellow, and a smirk broke his lips.
“Please, Father, save me.“ His words drifted up into the vaulted ceiling toward the fresco depicting the angel Gabriel, his blade drawn, tip toward the mass of demons approaching.
The priest approached him, rested a trembling hand on the Intruder’s shoulder, and breathed a silent prayer. Pain flared behind the Intruder’s eyes and he snapped up, pulling the priest over his shoulder and slamming him into the fountain. The priest’s head and torso submerged completely into the acid. His legs dangled over the rim. The Intruder held the priest down by his chest while the man jerked and writhed, spilling acid around him. It took a matter of seconds for the human flesh to sizzle and melt, for his eyes to liquefy and the water to turn a hazy shade of pink. The priest reflexively inhaled the deadly substance, and his body broke out into violent convulsions.
The priest gave one final twitch and then fell still.
The Intruder stepped away, wiping his hands on his jeans, and returned to the pew. He knelt, leaned forward, and bowed his head. The acid on his clothes returned to water. It hissed as it turned to steam and dissipated as a result of the heat that enveloped him. He averted his gaze from the dead priest and turned it to the prophet petrified above the altar. He wiped his brow with a steady hand.
“Why do you always wish to meet in such an archaic place?” The voice drifted to him from his left. An apparition floated toward him, lithely moving with the thick shadows. The pew creaked in protest as the shadow took form and sat next to him.
“I search for peace,” he said.
She laughed beside him. A beautiful, seductive laugh that calmed him. “The wicked—”
“Yes, I know. The wicked shall have no peace,” he finished for her, more agitated with her interruption than the truth of those words. “Why are you here?”
She scowled, but he didn't give a damn. “Overly dramatic, don't you think?” Her black eyes went to the dead priest.
“He tried to save my soul, so I gave him peace.”
“Yes, he does look very peaceful.” She broke her gaze from the disfigured corpse and returned it to the Intruder. “You know the plan. Do not deviate, no matter what.”
“You chose me for this, remember?” He disliked Naite and trusted her even less.
“Yes, because of your history...with her,” Naite reminded him. It was a warning, a reminder of how he had failed terribly, and how he could not afford to fail again.
“Do not fret my young governess. I will not fail this time.”
Naite shot him a warning glare. Her deep set eyes were as black as her core.
Naite had never been human. A shadow lurking amongst shadows, she’d never felt the wind on her face, never smelled the soft scents of the earth after a spring rain, never felt the warmth of a fire, or tasted the decadent sweetness of chocolate. Naite would never understand the human condition. It was what made her deficient. He would never trust a full breed.
Naite returned to her amorphous state and sifted toward the nave. “And clean this mess up. We don’t want to announce our presence just yet.”
The Intruder bowed. He wanted to tell her to go to Hell, but she already lived there. He waited until she disappeared, and then went back to work staunching the fire within him.
