by Chris Bannor
The night rumbled its greeting as the body streaked through the atmosphere. Lightning flashed across the sky, and thunder heralded its downward descent. Few who saw it would know what it was, but to the trained eye, a fallen angel was unmistakable.
Hell would not welcome such a creature, so newly lost it still reeked of the holy.
He’d fallen years ago, over something he no longer believed. He got on his motorcycle and took to the road, headed for the other. He was no longer an angel, but he would do what he could.
Even the fallen needed brothers.
Chris Bannor is a speculative fiction writer who lives in Southern California. Chris learned her love of genre stories from her mother at an early age and has never veered far from that path. You can follow Chris on Facebook: @chrisbannorauthor