Two years have passed since Trina Covern met Gaz and Michael, the loves of her life. Trina is happier than she ever imagined, yet wonders if her mother Francine was ever happy. When she is entrusted with a diary and a handwritten book that describes her mother’s relationship with twin nationals Metatron and Sadalphon, will she find an answer to her question?
With Trina and Michael’s wedding looming in the future, will the pages of her mother’s words help Trina to find her blood father, or will she forever wonder who he is?
Gaz is heartsick when his sister Leeann discovers that she is dying of bone cancer. Will her body fight the disease or will her human genes allow the cancer to thrive?
So many questions to be answered amidst the desires of a mother and daughter, both absorbed by the pride and passion of their men.
Gaz grumbled as he rolled to the side and picked up Trina’s phone. The name displayed was Raphael, and he glared at it, hitting the password and tapping the icon. “Hello?” he said in a deeply menacing voice.
The voice on the other end sounded unusually timid for the man he expected to reply.
“Is Trina there, or do I have the wrong number?”
“She’s here. What do you want with her?”
“I need to talk to her. She’s my sister.”
He knew Trina had a younger brother, but she had never mentioned his name. “Hold on a minute.”
He rolled over and shook her lightly. “You need to wake up, Trina. It’s your brother.”
Snuggling back into his chest, she moaned. “Put it on speaker, please.”
He did, and she lifted her hand lazily to take it. He placed the phone on her shoulder instead and grasped her fingers to hold them.
“Good morning, Raph. Where did you get my number?”
“Ramiel gave it to me. You need to come home.”
“I am home.”
“You need to come here. Where you used to live.”
“Why?”
“Because Mommy is dead and I need help. You are listed in her will. Please?”
Tugging her hand from Gaz’s, Trina snatched the phone from her shoulder and sat up. “What do you mean, she’s dead? How? When?”
“Yesterday sometime. She overdosed.”
Trina’s skin blanched to stark white as her bottom lip sagged and tears filled her eyes. He peeled the phone from her fingers, setting it on his pillow so he could put his arm around her. Michael rolled over and gave her a tissue, then wiped her cheeks with a second one. “We will be there later today. Is there a place to park our RV?”
“Yes, you can put it in the driveway, as long as it’s not too big.”
“I guess that’s all in your interpretation of big. Is there a funeral service?”
“Yes. Saturday at noon. She is being cremated, and her urn is going in the family plot.”
“We’ll be there later,” Gaz replied
“What happened?” whispered Trina.
“I don’t know exactly. I haven’t been around much. She was hanging around with a national named Malik, and I think he got her into drugs. They are running an autopsy now to find out exactly what killed her. I found a bag of white powder on her nightstand, so it was probably coke. I’m thinking it may have been intentional.”
“Why?”
“She called me about a week ago. She sounded weird and was talking about all this shit in her past and the things she had done.” He sighed. “I should have come over here to check on her, but I was too busy with work and my new son. I’m on my lunch break, so I should get back. I’ll stop by the house later and meet up with you. If I’m not there yet, there’s still a key in the old hiding place. Bye, Trina.”
The phone clicked off and Gaz tapped it closed, then set it on the nightstand. He kissed the back of her head. She had said years before she once wished her mother dead from a pain-filled overdose so, he could only imagine what she was thinking. “Talk to me.”
Trina rolled to her back, her eyes bloodshot from crying. “What is there to say? Should I have tried to rectify things with her? Maybe. Could she have gotten my number from Ramiel and called me like my brother just did? Yes. Is it my fault she started doing drugs and it killed her? No. Long ago I wished her dead. That wrath has left my heart, but it didn’t leave love in its place. I’m honestly surprised she even mentioned me in her will. Of course if I know her, she probably made the will when my brother was born, and my father made her put both our names.”
“Possibly.” Her mother had always been a touchy subject. Considering what she had told him, she might not be welcome at the funeral. Had her mother fallen from grace with the family? They were about to find out.
“Why would anyone name their child after the angel of hell?” asked Michael.
“What?”
“Malik is the angel of hell.”
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