You call it pulp. We call it kicking ass.
Serafim
After the fall of the Rapture government, Imurica settled back into its old secular ways. The only traces of Rapture left are the serafim, the last great wonders of Revelation’s genetic engineering. Made to be the soldiers of God, the winged creations have a new job: urban law enforcement. They make the perfect police; precise, imperturbable, and always watching. Incorruptible.
Until now. There is conspiracy afoot in the highest ranks, profit and power performing their ancient functions. Its tentacles are everywhere, and its aims are hardly even to be guessed at.
Zillah Montresor is a blackwing. An aberration, capable of emotions her fellow serafim cannot comprehend. Barred from promotion, kept in the front lines of the war on the streets, and reminded of her inferiority at every turn, she is still devoted to her work. Now the higher-ups are dangling an upgrade to the Raphael Division profiler squad, if she pulls off one more capture.
Her mission? Hunt down Gideon Hopewell, fellow serafim, Zil’s former lover, and member of a shadowy resistance—though what exactly the resistance wants, he cannot say. The conspiracy wants him dead, the resistance needs him alive—and Gideon wants to seduce Zillah into joining him. By any means necessary.
Unfortunately, Zil’s never dealt well with authority. Or bribery. Or manipulation. If she finds out she’s being used, both sides will have hell to pay. For even if she is a blackwing, Zil’s still a woman.
And Heaven knows, there is no wrath like a woman’s.
