Thirteen-year-old Armond Costa heals in three days, no matter what abuse his uncle and aunt inflict upon him. On his fourteenth birthday, he sprouts wings and discovers his aunt and uncle had lied to him. He’s the lost Golden Demon’s Healer. His father, King of the Golden Demons, insists he return with him and save his people from being persecuted by their mortal enemies, the Dark Demons. Now, Armond must choose between the Ellis brothers and seventeen-year-old Rusty Owens — the only family he’s ever known — or condemn the Golden Demons to extinction.
Morgana wailed, low and scratchy. “What am I going to do?”
A tall man, scratching his wild brown hair, kept saying, “I didn’t see her. She jumped right in front of my truck.”
A red pickup was parked on the side of the street.
“She’s my only family.” Morgana wept. “Misty.” Sitting up and flinging her head back, she sobbed. Her long stringy black hair hung in her face like bars. “No!”
Kyle darted out the door. He skidded to a stop. “Shit!”
I dragged my leg to where a group of people gathered around the dog. Blood dripped from the dog’s mouth, and her eyes stared off into nothing.
Fluttering sensations grew in my chest. Tingles slid down my arms, and my fingers itched to touch Misty. Before I knew it, I fell to my knees next to Morgana.
“Costa, what are you doing?” Kyle said.
I edged my trembling fingers along the dog’s soft black fur. Faint thumps of the dog heart hit my palm. The pulsating in my chest grew harder and harder. The dog’s heart pounded stronger. Power rushed over me, and I flung my head back. What was happening? My teeth chattered, tremors rattled my body. White light blurred my vision. My God, was the light coming from me?
“Get away from her!” Morgana sobbed. “What are you doing?”
Loud buzzing rang in my ear, blocking out all sounds. The blinding light burned brighter and brighter as if I was trapped in the middle of a shooting star. Blood pumped hard in my chest, and sweat drenched me. Where was everybody? “Kyle?”
Someone grabbed my shoulder and pulled me off Misty. The light vanished, and I blacked out.
Something wet caressed my cheek.
“Misty,” a choked female voice said. “Leave him alone.”
“Costa, are you okay?”
The haziness gripping my brain faded. I opened my eyes to stare into Misty’s curious face. Wagging her tail, she proceeded to lick me repeatedly, her new favorite ice cream. I wasn’t outside anymore, but stretched out on the Ellises’ soft sofa.
Morgana clapped her hands twice. “Misty, come.”
Misty turned, and her brown and white tail slapped me in the face.
“Misty!” Morgana patted her thigh and laughed.
I struggled to sit up. Weariness rolled over me. My right arm ached as if a swarm of bees had stung it over and over and over again, but it looked absolutely normal. No blemishes. No bruises. Nothing. “What happened?”
“Armond, what did you do?” Morgana asked. Tears brimmed in her red-rimmed eyes. She hugged the massive ball of fur. Misty’s tail swatted a magazine off the coffee table. “Misty, sit.”
Panting, the Shepherd sat.
Kyle studied me coldly. “Costa, do you even know what happened?”
Sunken feelings spread over me. He used the same repulsive tone he had when my wings sprouted out.
“No,” I said.
I stared down at the Ellises’ sculpted carpet, now covered with long brown and silver dog hair.
“You saved Misty’s life,” Morgana said. “I don’t know what you did, but when you touched her, something happened.”
About The Author
J.L. Bowen writes both contemporary and paranormal young adult books, and she lives at the foot of the Rocky Mountains in Denver, Colorado. She loves to take her cocker spaniel, Raven, walks on the trails behind her house or up at her family cabin in Frisco, CO. She is a member of the Colorado Romance Writers of America, Young Adult Romance Writers of America, and Romance Writers of America. She has won awards for her CRW newsletter articles. She loves to go on ghost tours and her favorite ghost tour was the Jack the Ripper Tour in London.
J.L. Bowen can be contacted through her website:
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