Hallowed: An Unearthly Novel
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For months part-angel Clara Gardner trained to face the fire from her visions, but she wasn't prepared for the choice she had to make that day. Now, torn between her love for Tucker and her complicated feelings about the roles she and Christian seem destined to play in a world that is both dangerous and beautiful, Clara struggles with a shocking revelation: Someone she loves will die in a matter of months. With her future uncertain, the only thing Clara knows for sure is that the fire was just the beginning.
out of me. “Seriously?” “Yeah, and I believed her, too.” “So you’re not going to have sex before you’re married? What if you don’t get married until you’re thirty?” He sighs. “I don’t know. I just love you. I don’t want to mess anything up.” This doesn’t make sense to me, but I nod. “So we’ll be good.” “Right.” “Because you’re scared.” “Hey!” “Okay,” I say with a sigh. “Even though that’s not much fun.” He startles me by flipping me over, pressing me gently back into the blanket at the
slips by Tucker. Plus I am not being very subtle in my spazzing out about this boyfriend-destined-to-die thing. This morning, for example. We were sitting in the commons during breakfast break and there was this loud, sudden pop from the other side of the lunchroom, and I couldn’t help it. I moved fast, too fast, so fast that Mom would have freaked if she’d seen, putting myself between that noise and Tucker. Then I stood there, waiting, hands clenched at my sides, until I heard a few boys
corner of Christian’s mouth turns up. “I guess we could pick really dumb people to be with.” “Kay’s not dumb,” I say. She might be a royal queen bee you-know-what, she might play dumb in class sometimes, but she’s no dummy. “No, Kay’s not dumb,” he agrees. “And eventually she would have made it impossible not to tell her. She was going to get hurt.” I think of the night Tucker found out, his hounding questions, the crazy assumptions he made. He wouldn’t relent until I revealed myself. “I get
returns to dust, and the spirit passes to another plane. Then the spirit becomes solid.” “What about me?” I ask. “What’s my spirit like? Can you see it?” “Beautiful.” He smiles. “You have a gorgeous spirit. Like your mother’s.” It’s fully dark now. A few feet away a lone cricket starts to chirp. We should go, I think. It’s still more than an hour’s drive to home. But I don’t get up. “Will Mom . . . go to heaven?” He nods, and something in his face brightens. He’s happy, I realize, about her
person I loved so much. I held it for a long time, unsure of what to do with it, and then I finally let it go. I let it float away. It hurt. But right now she’s with me, her vanilla perfume rising off the fabric, and somehow it makes me feel stronger. This is officially torture, Christian says in my head. How many speeches are there? I consult my trusty program. Four. Mental groan. But we get to cheer for Angela, I remind him. Angel Club sticks together, right? Like I said. Torture. I