Dark Brother
Book Seven of the Hayle Coven Destinies
Jean Marc Dumont's trial should have felt like a giant victory. Why then did I sprawl like such a grouch sitting on the hard, stone chair I'd been assigned, glaring around me with my arms crossed over my chest at anyone who even hinted at intruding on my bad mood?
Four days. Four freaking days since my return from the Dark Universe, since my mind and body and soul were torn apart by Creator's sibling, Her heart putting me back together again. Four days since Max's wings were sliced from his drach body, any attempt at regrowth with help from his people and the newly restored Stronghold failing. Four days since a giant chunk of the Universe fell through the crumbling veil and into the void.
And what had I done since returning with a bit of knowledge about the other side and a massive, hulking, metal clad soldier of the Order in tow? Nada. Ziperino. El Zilcho.
Because now freaking what?