Here is the unedited excerpt from my upcoming novel The Prophetess: 
I walk outside my office and stand against the wall in the hallway. Talia was speaking to the angel scum, telling him about my dislike for his kind. I make a mental note to fire her ass tomorrow. I quickly and quietly make my way back to the office. Since Ezekiel, I believe that was his name, was busy, I was going to make my escape.

 I begin shoving all my shit in my bag. I do a once over to make sure I have everything and prepare myself to leave until I hear my phone buzzing. Crap. I try to dig my phone out my bag but can’t. I throw it on the ground, and get on my knees, looking through it. Fuck. Where was it? I did not have the time to do this right now. Talia would run out of stuff to say to the angel any second now, and he would probably barge his way back here. 

I flip my purse over, emptying its contents on the floor and find no phone, but an old crumpled condom wrapper. When I needed that two years ago, I couldn’t find it. Oh, the irony. I kick it across the room. I frantically start to search the room for my phone and find it on my desk. Yes! I grab it, check the caller ID, one missed call from mom. I’ll speak to her after I make my escape. I quickly scoop the contents on the floor in my bag. 

I swing the bag over my shoulder, cut the light off, close the door, and tiptoe out the back entrance. 

I’m celebrating as I notice my car down the street, a couple more steps, and I’ll be gone. I refrain myself from doing a victory dance. 

“I had a feeling you would do this,” Crap I was so close. I continue walking. “I know you can hear me, woman.” Woman? Was he serious, I knew he knows my name. God, sent him to me. 

“My name is Isabelle, fucktard.” I continue walking but stop when I feel an iron like grip on my arm. “I will pepper spray you.”

“You can but it won’t do you any good,” He keeps his hold on my arm and walks in front of me. I look to the left, to the right, at the ant on the floor, everywhere but at him. “Listen I’ve been waiting to speak with you all day, you will hear me out.” You would think he would release his hold on me, but he doesn’t. “Can you look at me when I’m speaking to you?” 

“Sorry, my eyes do not look at fucktards who leave bruises on women’s arm,” He makes a noise then release me. I back up giving us some space and lean against the wall. I look up at him, not really looking at him but through him. “Listen I know why you’re here-”

“How?” 

“I’m the prophet. I know you want me to stop the uprising of the demon named Moloch, and I am working on that. So go back to Heaven and tell God, that it’s fucking handle.”

“We are suppose to work together,” I smack my lips.

“No, wrong prophet Angel. Go ahead and-”

“You. Do. Not. Understand.,” He says. “We are supposed to work together if we-”

“If it isn’t the prophet,” I turn my attention behind me and see a vampire. Great because my night didn’t suck enough. I watch him as he staggers toward me. Of course, he couldn’t be sober at the moment, that would have been too easy. “You remember me.” He slurs. “U told me I’d had to pay double for you to help find my girl,” I remember him, and it was nothing personal to him. Although the vampires I dealt with in the past were very volatile, so I made sure to charge double than what I usually did.

“I’m sorry but I don’t know what you’re speaking about,” I tell him.

“I-”

“Listen vampire,” Ezekiel says. “I was here first and I waited all day to speak to her, so you will wait.” He turns to glare at him. “Quietly.”

“Is she your bitch?” He asks Ezekiel.

“Excuse me?!” I question. What type of misogynistic question was that?

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