By Lavie Tidhar
After Archangels materialise over the bloodbaths of WWII, they soak up place of abode in lots of the world's significant towns. yet what could take place if, greater than zone of a century later, anything someway controlled to kill those best beings? Killarney is familiar with and, as an agent operating for the Bureau, a British corporation that is so mystery it does not formally exist, she unearths herself embroiled within the outcomes as, one after the other, the Archangels die. Assigned to track a lacking cryptographer concept to have details at the murders, she travels from England, via France, heading for the frozen wastes of the USSR. yet there is an unknown 3rd occasion rationale on preventing her, and there is God, who additionally has an time table. no longer understanding who's buddy and who's foe, and with just a short glimpse of a swastika on angel wings as sturdy details, Killarney struggles to stay alive lengthy adequate to glean enough details to place jointly the items of the puzzle and entire what's, with no them, an most unlikely challenge.
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Extra info for An Occupation of Angels
We need to get you out of the country,” he said, switching to English, but he didn’t take his eyes off the road and that was a good sign; the only thing that could get me out of Warsaw alive right now was a fast car on a one-way journey to the border. When you waste someone like Raphael, there are no doors, there are no holes through which you can escape, and they will hunt you. And don’t even think about flying. ” He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know, but there was one thing he didn’t understand, and it’s this: I work alone.
It was a safe house, at least for now. When I got downstairs, the restaurant was closed. Seago sat alone at a corner table, smoking. The stub of one cigarette was already in the ashtray. ” He didn’t wait for an answer but poured the dark liquid into a small china cup and another helping into his own. I sat opposite him, stretching out my legs. When I drank, the coffee rushed through my system, the organism gearing up, charged and ready to fight again. It felt good. “Look, Killarney,” Seago said, “I want you to know I didn’t have anything to do with not briefing you beforehand.
Angels were bad but the Fourth Directorate were worse, and I knew where this was heading even before he said it, and I cursed him inside, thinking, This is where it really gets hard. They were sending me to Moscow. Chapter Seven Snow covered the empty streets like a crystalline layer of dust. I drove through the streets of Moscow and wondered how much longer I could stay alive. Name, Marija Zita, thirty-five, hair a dark brown and cut short. Serb, with the kind of accent one associates with eating razorblades.