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    Saving Sam
    Saving Sam
    Saving Sam
    Ebook64 pages53 minutes

    Saving Sam

    By Nikka Michaels

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Ezekiel has been a Watcher angel for thousands of years, and now he wants a promotion to Guardian status. When he shows up for a meeting at Purgatory, Inc. Zeke gets the shock of his lifetime when his boss and Higher Power commands him to bring back Azazel, Death’s assistant.

    Throw in the devil, a possible apocalypse, and a partner in archangel Sam and Zeke might get more than just his Guardian angel wings.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEvernight Publishing
    Release dateJan 11, 2015
    ISBN9781772331912
    Saving Sam

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      Book preview

      Saving Sam - Nikka Michaels

      Published by Evernight Publishing ® at Smashwords

      www.evernightpublishing.com

      Copyright© 2015 Nikka Michaels

      ISBN: 978-1-77233-191-2

      Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

      Editor: Tricia Kristufek

      ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

      WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

      This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      DEDICATION

      For Eileen, thank you for the honor of building an infinite amount of new worlds with you every day.

      SAVING SAM

      Purgatory, Inc.

      Nikka Michaels

      Copyright © 2015

      Chapter One

      Good morning. Welcome to Purgatory, Inc., the perky brunette receptionist chirped as her gaze roamed over my carefully chosen outfit.

      Good morning, I’m—

      The phone rang, and she held up one carefully manicured finger in a wait gesture.

      I tried not to shift impatiently, but my wings drooped, the tips brushing the floor. What if I’d dressed wrong? After all, what exactly was the proper outfit for a meeting with the holiest of holies? It’s not like I met the Creator every day.

      The receptionist pushed a button on her phone, swiveled around, and pasted a generic smile on her face. The tips of her fangs showed, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d walked into the wrong office. Most of the angels or beings I’d encountered didn’t have fangs. Or claws. Or a tail like the one I saw flicking the air behind the woman as she talked. Yes?

      I’m here to see God.

      She shot me a wry look over her half glasses. Aren’t we all?

      I blinked. Was she joking? Was I supposed to laugh? I wished I’d paid attention during the short orientation session.

      Name?

      Ezekiel. I’m a—

      Watcher? Yes, He’s had His eye on you.

      I gulped.

      Don’t worry. He sees everything, but not everything, if you get the drift.

      Um.

      It’s a joke, Watcher. Don’t get your wings in a twist. Here’s some paperwork for you to fill out. If you’d like, take a seat. She handed me a clipboard and a pen, and gestured to a row of chairs arranged against the room’s wall.

      Paperwork?

      It’s been a while since you’ve been into the office. Time to update your personnel file.

      As I sat with the stack of forms, I sighed. Back in the day, there’d never been any paperwork. Purgatory, Inc. existed on a separate plane from Heaven, Hell, and the mortal realm. The physical manifestation of the seat of bureaucracy from which all the celestial beings ruled was structured like a modern human corporation—complete with paperwork, it seemed.

      For the last millennia, I’d been a Watcher, an invisible, formless angel who observed mortals and kept tabs on the balance of good and evil. Other supernatural beings could sense my presence, but most didn’t deign themselves low enough to talk to a simple Watcher, so I was pretty rusty at basic social niceties and interaction.

      Since my creation, I’d kept my wings clean, stayed out of trouble, and been the perfect heavenly being. That had to be worth a promotion, right?

      Ezekiel?

      I looked up from my clipboard and froze. Standing in front of me, radiating divine power, was an older man with long white hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore board shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops, and reading glasses hung from a chain draped around his neck. With a smile on his friendly face, he didn’t look like the higher power hundreds of religions called Heavenly Father, but more like a kindly hippie grandfather.

      I pushed to my feet and promptly tripped over the length of my wings. In my most mortifying moment, God caught my arm and saved me from a face-plant onto the ugly industrial

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