Blackfeather – Chapter 1

Kate threw the pipe under the scaffolding and hurried down the path to her car. Her hands trembled, her knees were weak. Had anyone seen her, running through the graveyard, flustered and grubby, with a suspicious bundle? She had just stolen something from a church and she didn’t even know what it was.

As she fastened the seatbelt and started the car, she remembered her promise to Reverend Pilling. She swore and raced back to the rear of the church, locked the vestry door and hid the key beneath one of the three plant pots arranged in a triangle near the wall. If anyone had seen her, they hadn’t bothered to investigate what she was up to. Back in the driving seat, she took a deep breath.

Just an hour ago she’d been standing at the lych-gate, looking fondly up at the church where she’d been christened, preparing herself for an afternoon away from the office, researching the family tree of a new client. Scaffolding covered the walls instead of ivy, and mesh screens had been fitted over the stained glass windows to protect them from falling masonry and vandals. By the look of things, repairs to the roof had begun just in time.

She blew away the flurry of snowflakes that danced round her head with a puff of hot breath and pushed a wind-whipped strand of hair back under her woollen hat with a gloved hand, then shouldered her bag, unlatched the gate and made her way up the path to the porch. The iron hinges squeaked as she pushed open the heavy wooden door. It was the perfect accompaniment to the whistle of December wind that played through the bare branches of the trees and it sent goose bumps up Kate’s arms in spite of the layers of warm clothing she’d piled on.

Inside the entrance stood a Christmas tree, its branches as yet untrimmed and at intervals down the nave were leafy green wreaths and swags of ivy, laid out ready for someone to fasten them in place. The decorations brought back happy memories of candlelit Christmas Eve carol services, and being carried back to the car in her father’s arms afterwards, too sleepy to walk.

The rainbow of light from the tall medieval stained glass windows was reflected on the arched stone wall opposite and Jacobean box pews, lined up in rows down the nave, mirrored the dark oak beams in the ceiling. At the entrance to each pew was a small posy of flowers, placed in a conical holder. A couple of sparrows and a plump wood pigeon had found their way in through a hole in the roof and while the pigeon perched on the curve of a wall monument, trying to sleep, his feathers puffed up for warmth, the sparrows chirruped and chased each other from beam to beam.

Kate watched them for a few minutes until an elderly man wearing the ubiquitous grey suit, black shirt and dog collar of an Anglican vicar, emerged through a door in the north wall, half hidden by a second row of arches. When he saw Kate, a wide smile formed on his face. She grinned back as he strode towards her, carrying his cane rather than admit his need for its support by leaning on it, and vigorously shook her hand.

“Goodness me, Kathryn, you have grown up,” he said with a chuckle. “You were just this high the last time I saw you.”

He held up his hand to chest level, then tapped the cane on the stone floor three times, a habit he’d developed soon after acquiring it.

“It’s been ten years,” she said.

“It can’t be!”

Kate nodded.

“Well, tempus fugit, as they say. You must be surprised that I’m still here. Though I think it won’t be long before I’m replaced by a woman. The Bishop is keen to increase the congregation and move with the times. There’s a vicar in the city centre you know who gives sermons dressed as a clown”.

He turned away, then muttered, “Idiot!” under his breath. She heard him, nonetheless and pressed her lips together to stifle a giggle. The Reverend tapped his cane again.

“Well, I expect you want to get on with your research?” he said, adjusting his glasses and turning to look over his shoulder at her with eyebrows raised.

She nodded once more and he led the way down the narrow aisle, between the pews and through the wooden door into the vestry. To their left was Reverend Pilling’s office, but they entered the room opposite, a room filled with shelves of leather bound books, where the church archives were kept.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay, Kathryn. One of my parishioners has suffered a bereavement and I need to get the funeral arrangements underway. I’ll go out the front and lock the main door, but I’d be grateful if you’d lock up round the back and leave the key under the pot when you’ve finished.” He handed her a large, old-fashioned brass key. “I must be off.”

He punctuated his words by tapping the cane a further three times and disappeared back the way they’d come.

Kate sighed with contentment. She loved the solitude of working alone in old buildings and began making herself comfortable, placing her notebook on the table in the centre of the room and laying her outdoor clothes over the back of a wooden chair. She took her time, walking a circuit of the room and running her fingers over the red, leather spines of the books. The dates were stamped on each one in gold lettering and when she found the one she needed, she pulled it from its place and laid it on the lectern on the table. Then she sat down and opened the notebook at a fresh page, wrote the surname of the family she was researching in capitals at the top and opened the register.

Her client had appointed Sharpe’s, Genealogists and Probate Researchers to finish his family tree when he could get no further on his own and had got himself in a muddle with the various records he had so far accumulated. Peter Sharpe had assigned the project to her.

She lost track of time as she worked, poring over the names and dates in the archives until the real world faded away. Anything beyond the book in front of her and the room in which she sat ceased to exist. She was copying the details with meticulous care and double checking the records already provided by the client when she was startled by a loud, reverberating crack and thundering echo from inside the church. She paused, listening for any other sounds before calling out.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

There was no answer, but it was unlikely that anyone would have heard her from the thick walled room. It couldn’t have been a door banging shut. Reverend Pilling had locked the main door and this had sounded like a large, heavy object falling on stone. Something from the roof, maybe.

It was quiet now, too quiet, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate properly until she’d investigated the cause of the noise. Kate put down her pencil and left the sanctuary of the archives, passed through the vestry and emerged into the hushed church. The sound of her boots scuffing on the paved floor echoed round the building. There was no one there and nothing out of place that could offer an explanation for what she’d heard, but as she skirted the Norman font and turned toward the chancel, she found the culprit.

A huge piece of masonry, probably loosened by the roofing contractors, had fallen from high up in the east wall. It had crashed to the floor, miraculously missing the choir stalls and altar table, and landed smack in the centre of the chancel. The only damage was a broken flagstone.

Kate edged towards the slab, glancing nervously upwards with each step. A triangular piece of paving stuck up from the floor at an angle and she nudged it with the toe of her boot. It twisted and fell inwards, revealing a cavity below.

People were often buried beneath church floors, in fact there were other grave slabs nearby, but Kate couldn’t see any carvings on this one, not even worn ones. She crouched down and swept the palm of her hand across the stone’s smooth surface, confirming the absence of an inscription.

She felt along the jagged, broken edge of the flagstone with her fingertips then gave an experimental tug. It didn’t budge, so she pushed her hand into the hole, up to her wrist. Something tickled her and she pulled it out again. The tickle continued, travelling up her arm along with the spider, and she jumped to her feet, shrieking and shaking her arm, brushing furiously at it to dislodge the tiny creature. She hated spiders. When she was sure it had been flung far away from her, she took a deep breath. Her heart pounded and she looked back at the hole with trepidation.

Leave it, she thought. Whatever’s in there isn’t worth it.

She walked away, got as far as the font, stopped and blew out her breath in a long, slow sigh. She was far too curious to let it go.

I don’t believe I’m doing this, she thought, pushing the sleeves of her jumper up to her elbows, and steeling herself to try again.

It took several deep breaths and a number of false starts before she plucked up enough courage to thrust her hand all the way into the hole. It was deeper than she’d expected, but about a foot below the surface she felt something cold and solid and flinched away from it. When it didn’t move she touched it again. Beneath a thick layer of dust she could make out a surface covered with small bumps. Her trembling fingertips traced along the edge of the object, found a corner and continued on until she’d returned to her starting point. The object had depth to it too and with her arm as far into the hole as it would go, she felt all over it, building up a mental image, like a blind person touching the face of someone they’d never met before. It felt like a box.

She brushed the dirt off her hand and pushed herself up, sitting back on her heels to survey the floor around her. The piece of mortar she squeezed between thumb and forefinger crumbled to dust. All the other stones were cemented in place, but this one had been packed round the edges with dirt. It had compacted over the centuries, giving the illusion it was fixed in place like all the others, but if this had been a burial, why had it been left loose?

Go on, dig it out.

The thought was in her head so it must have been her own, but it didn’t feel like something she would say.

She looked around, chewing at a fingernail on the hand that hadn’t been in the hole, while she weighed up her options and wondered how long Reverend Pilling would be gone. She dreaded to think what he was going to say when he saw the damage to his church. Was she really going to do this?

With the decision made, she retreated to the archive room and rummaged through her bag for something to help remove the dirt from around the stone. The old nail file she found would have to do. The box was too big to come out through the hole, but if she could loosen the flagstone she might be able to lift it.

What if I get caught? she asked herself.

 We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Her inner monologue was really playing devil’s advocate today.  It didn’t even sound like her any more.

Go on then, it prompted

It took her fifteen minutes to scrape the dirt away. She stood at the unbroken end; bent over with both hands in the hole and pulled it towards her with all her strength. She managed to raise it an inch or two before the weight of the stone pulled it down again.

Unwilling to admit defeat, Kate scanned the church for something to use as a lever and was surprised by how dark it had become. The late afternoon light had faded to dusk, the church had turned gloomy and the silence settled like a heavy, wool blanket. Even the birds had gone.

The air felt electric, like the moments before a storm when you were just waiting for it to break, and the prickling sensation at the base of her neck made her feel as though she was being watched from the shadows. She shook her shoulders, trying to dispel the idea.

There was nothing she could use inside the church, and she knew better than to even think of using the medieval silver candlesticks adorning the altar, so she slipped outside to search beneath the scaffolding among the discarded rubble. The snow had started to stick and was already filling up the gaps between the stacks of roof slates leant against the wall. She turned up a length of steel pipe and after testing its weight decided it would do the job.

With one end in the hole and using the fallen stone as a fulcrum, she pushed down on the pipe. The flagstone raised enough for Kate to thrust in her spare hand and pull out the large casket that had been hidden there. She released the pressure and the flagstone thudded back into its original resting place. She held the box up to what remained of the light and examined it. Something shifted inside and she screwed up her eyes in an effort to peer through the keyhole on the front.

A rustling from the choir stalls made her jump again. With heart in throat she wasted no time in sweeping the dirt into the hole, back filling the crevices and tidying up as best she could before someone came in and discovered her. When she was satisfied the scene looked as undisturbed as she could make it, she rubbed the loose soil from her hands and wiped them down the front of her jeans, leaving dirty, grey streaks.

What now? she thought as she sat on a nearby pew with the box on her knee. She pulled at the lid, but it wouldn’t open.

Take it home.

Oh no, that was a step too far. She was no thief and whatever was inside was probably an old church relic or a saint’s bones, placed there when the church was built. It was one thing to remove it from the crypt so it didn’t suffer further damage but to steal it..? She shook her head. She would leave the box on Reverend Pilling’s desk with a note explaining everything and phone tomorrow to ask him about it.

With the note written and the box placed squarely on the Reverend’s desk, she took one last look at it and stepped away.

Don’t you want to know what’s inside?

She straightened, tossed her hair back over her shoulder, and firmly pulled the door of the office shut.

Satisfied she had done the right thing, she went back to work. She sat down at the desk in the archives room and picked up her pencil.

What if someone comes in and takes it before the vicar gets back?

       Why would anyone do that?  she thought in reply.

It would be much safer in here with you.

That was true, she could watch over it until she had to leave, at least. Reverend Pilling might be back by then and she could give it to him personally.

That’s right, it will only take a minute to get it.

She got up and moved towards the door and suddenly found herself rooted to the spot.

You don’t have to do this, Kate.

“What?” she said aloud.

Where had that come from? Was someone else here with her? She was sure she had heard someone speak.

“Who’s there?” she called. “Reverend Pilling, is that you?”

There was no reply. She turned the brass knob of the door, but it wouldn’t open. It couldn’t be locked. Unless someone was on the other side.

She heard whispering and stiffened as she tried to hear what was being said, but all she caught were snatches of a few words and phrases between what sounded like two people arguing.

shouldn’t be doing this… can’t interfere…

       …she should know… what if she wants to…

There was a pause and the door was released and Kate stumbled back a step.

Take the box before someone who shouldn’t does.

The thought was so forceful and induced such an overwhelming sense of fear for the safety of the box that Kate hastily packed up her work and a few minutes later was back in the vicar’s office.

“I’m sorry,” she said to the air. “I don’t know why, but I need to know what’s inside. I’ll bring it back. Promise.”


And that’s how she found herself fleeing the scene of a crime.

In the time it had taken her to free the box, the road had been obliterated by a layer of snow. Kate restarted the engine of her cherry red VW Beetle and with a quick look over her shoulder pulled away from the church. The back end of the car swung out into the road, but she managed to regain control and accelerated out of the village onto a narrow, unlit country lane.

The branches of the trees on either side of the road reached so far over they met in the middle and interlaced like an arch of swords formed by a military honour guard. The tunnel they formed made it so dark Kate could hardly see where she was going. She hunched over the wheel, her eyes squinting through the blizzard of snowflakes that battered against the windscreen, obscuring her view even further.

She had thrown everything into the back except the box, which lay on the front passenger seat. She tried to focus her attention on driving, rubbing her hand over the inside of the windscreen to clear the mist her breath made on the glass, but the box, thrown about by the movement of the car, jerked forward and teetered on the edge of the seat. She pushed it back, looked up and gasped in shock, jamming her foot onto the brakes.

The man had appeared out of nowhere, and as Kate’s car sped towards him, he looked straight at her and smiled.


Buy Blackfeather & Immortal


In The Beginning…

When I first got the idea for Blackfeather, over twelve years ago, it was going to be a stand alone novel about an angel exiled from Heaven for his part in causing the death of the girl he was supposed to be guarding. Through her subsequent lifetimes he would fall in love with her and she with him and at the end, when the quest had been completed he would return to Heaven. The happy ending would come when the angel, now seemingly an ordinary mortal man with no recollection of his angelic heritage, walked into her place of work as the new employee and they began their relationship anew.

It was all a bit too neat and tidy, a bit twee and quite unsatisfactory. I got to thinking was he really mortal now, why didn’t he remember, what if there was a reason he couldn’t remember and for some reason he was made to? And so the possibility of a sequel was formed.

By the time Blackfeather was written the ending had changed quite considerably. That vague possibility of a sequel had formed into an entirely new plot with new characters, both good and evil and a few in between and so readers were left at the end of Blackfeather with the satisfaction of a quest completed and a whole new adventure about to begin.

Those of you who follow my Facebook page will have spotted the new cover photo (shown below) and I hope will be feeling a bit excited. It’s taken a long time in coming, my last post was an apology for the delay in publishing Immortal, but you’ll be happy to know we are almost there.

It is true that Blackfeather started out as one story that changed over the course of its writing and the same is true for Immortal. The original premise I started with is now unrecognisable. Only I will ever know what the original drafts looked like, but I can say that it is a much better book than it would have been twelve years ago and I hope when you get to read it that you think so too.


coming soon immortal


Nel Ashley is the author of Blackfeather – a Fallen Angel Paranormal Romance  and Immortal, the second book in the Blackfeather Series. She is currently working on her third novel, Persephone Reborn, a vampire romance influenced by Greek mythology.

You can also connect with Nel on Facebook and Twitter

The Real Life House Behind A Tragic Past Life

In “X Marks The Spot” I promised to show you what Evelyn and Sebastian looked like, so here they are.



Below are several photos of Evelyn and Sebastian’s house as it looks today. Sadly it has been badly neglected, but that was one of the reasons I chose it for Blackfeather. It’s location was ideal and this is exactly how Ash and Kate find it when they arrive and are caught in the attic by Evelyn’s great, great, great nephew. You can view the Markham Family tree here.

evelyns 2 evelyns house1 evelyns3 evelyns4 evelyns5

All photos of the house are taken by and copyright to Guinever Saunders Artist

It’s such a shame that it’s being left to rot and when we were up there last there were squatters in it. If only I had the money….

As a special treat, here is a picture of Evelyn’s beloved dog, Bertie


X Marks The Spot

Whilst writing Blackfeather I used several real life locations as settings within the book including the place where I live – Liverpool. This is where Kate lived in her past life as Evelyn Markham.

If you’ve read the book you’ll know this is a tragic tale which ends in a double suicide in the year 1873. This was the Victorian period and part of Liverpool was undergoing a wonderful transformation.

A beautiful park was being built a short distance from the city centre and  brand new villas for the well to do families of the era were springing up around the edges of the park.

The park began life in 1867 when the Liverpool Corporation bought the land from the Earl of Sefton. They decided to hold a competition to see who could come up with the best design and it was a French architect, Edouard Andre and a local architect, Lewis Hornblower, who won with their French style design.

They included a cricket ground, sheep and deer parks and a boating lake in their plan and the park was opened, in all its Victorian splendour, in 1872.

The Fairy Glen in Sefton Park, Liverpool Image from

When Ash first meets Evelyn, in the Fairy Glen under the Iron Bridge in 1873, this had only just been added and it was a popular meeting place for the Victorians who promenaded in the park at that time. Some of the houses were still under construction and wouldn’t be finished until 1890, but others, like Evelyn and Sebastian’s house were already being snapped up to be lived in.
Their house is the very last one on the row after the cricket ground. and just below the semi-circle next to that row is where the iron bridge and fairy glen are situated. This is where Ash would stand to watch over Evelyn, close to her, but shielded from view by the trees that surround the grounds of the house.

The Iron Bridge

Today, many of the houses have been turned into flats or hotels, but you can still get a feel for the Victorian period as you walk around the area and the Palm House, which was added to the park in 1896 has been renovated and restored in recent years. I think Evelyn would have loved to spend time here looking at the exotic plants from all over the world, but of course she never saw it in her lifetime.

sefton palm house

Sefton Palm House

Below is a map of the park, the little red x marks the spot where Ash and Evelyn met and the arrow points to the house.

1867 design of Sefton Park with marks


In a future post I’ll show you what Sebastian and Evelyn looked like and some modern day photos of their house.

Nel Ashley is the author of Blackfeather – a Fallen Angel Paranormal Romance  and Immortal, the second book in the Blackfeather Series. She is currently working on her third novel, Persephone Reborn, a vampire romance influenced by Greek mythology.

You can also connect with Nel on Facebook and Twitter

The Angel of Mons

angel of mons painting 2On 23rd August 1914 both the English and German forces believed they had witnessed a miracle. Some saw St George and a legion of bowmen others said that angels had surrounded the English in a wall of protection. Whether it was divine or supernatural intervention or not, the fact remains that the heavily outnumbered British Expeditionary Forces were being forced to retreat under heavy fire. Something turned the tide.

A further tale has it that a group of soldiers belonging to the Coldstream Guards got lost in the Mormal Forest and became aware that they were close to being discovered until a tall, slim female figure appeared to them. She wore a white flowing gown and appeared to be glowing. The soldiers followed her across a field where she showed them a hidden road which allowed them to escape.

The Bowmen and Other Legends of the War by Arthur MachenArthur Machen, a Welsh author, published a short story entitled “The Bowmen” on 29th September 1914 and insisted that this was the inspiration for the story of the Angel of Mons, but would this story spread far enough to account for the tales told by English and overseas forces alike?

One of the other ideas to account for the tales is that fog and rain caused unusual cloud formations or poor visibility that gave rise to unusual sightings, but this can be discounted since the sun came out from around 10 am that day.

I have used this enduring piece of folklore in Blackfeather to place Ash at a a turbulent time in history where his path crosses not only with one of Kate’s previous lives, but also at a crucial moment for Kate’s Great Grandfather. By saving Arthur Parkes’ life Ash ensures Kate’s birth in the future – the discovery shocks him. Perhaps someone should have explained to him that time is a big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff 🙂

You can read a more in-depth investigation of The Angel of Mons by Alan S. Coulson MD, PhD. and Michael E. Hanlon here.  They even include pictures, maps and theories on the legend.

Nel Ashley is the author of Blackfeather – a Fallen Angel Paranormal Romance  and Immortal, the second book in the Blackfeather Series. She is currently working on her third novel, Persephone Reborn, a vampire romance influenced by Greek mythology.

You can also connect with Nel on Facebook and Twitter


What’s Your Super Power? – Angel Abilities Part 2

Teleportation, Soul Reading, Angel/Demon Sensing
Angels are outside the natural laws of time and space and so can travel through it at will in any direction, into the past or the future or from one place to another, instantly.
Fallen angels, Watchers and demons can only travel in space as their physical bodies prevent them moving through time. It is quite unnerving to watch someone disappear in front of your very eyes but even more so when they can reappear silently behind you as Kate can testify from these two short excerpts from Chapter 14 of Blackfeather.

Damn it! he thought, hitting the table with his fist. 
He hadn’t meant to scare her. He was only angry at himself. He sighed and picked up the journal. Whatever she thought of him, she had a right to know. 
His voice was softer when he returned, but still hard-edged and she shrank from him. He hated himself for the fear he saw in her eyes.
You’re right, you should know everything I’ve done.” 
He laid the book on the chair arm and vanished into thin air, leaving the paper chains swinging overhead.
* * * 
There was no reason for him to be so angry, nothing he did with Isabel made me hate him, she thought, as she emptied the pot into the sink. 
Something stirred the air.
There’s worse to come,” Ash said. 
She was relieved to hear his voice. He was leaning against the wall behind her.
Ashrafel, you scared me.”

Soul Reading
A human soul is reborn many times over, each incarnation bears a different face and may even be a different ethnicity or gender to the life before, but angelic beings can see beyond the outward appearance and read the soul that resides inside. In this way Ash can see who a person was in a previous life and would know if they have been connected to Kate before.
If Ash had performed this simple task on Brian he would have been able to ascertain if Brian was a threat to Kate. But Brian was drunk and Ash states:

It’s not a pleasant experience looking into the souls of drunken people.It’s something I try to avoid…”

Demon/Angel Sensing
All angels/Watchers can sense the presence of evil, be it human or demon. Demons, whilst sickened by the presence of good can’t detect or locate angels on their own and use this sensation to detect if an angel is nearby.
A Watcher could locate any other being anywhere on the planet and then teleport to its location. Demons can only do this with their own kind.
Whilst these beings have many more abilities this is the last post in the angel lore series for now.

Nel Ashley is the author of Blackfeather – a Fallen Angel Paranormal Romance  and Immortal, the second book in the Blackfeather Series. She is currently working on her third novel, Persephone Reborn, a vampire romance influenced by Greek mythology.

You can also connect with Nel on Facebook and Twitter

What’s Your Super Power?

Angel Abilities Part 1

Continuing the explanation of how supernatural beings and events work in the Blackfeather Series of books.

Manipulation, Mind Reading and Invisibility

The angelic beings in Blackfeather, be they fallen angels, watchers or demons, all possess a wide range of abilities and put them to use in various situations.


This subtle ability is used on humans and animals in order to achieve a certain outcome. For instance, you may suddenly find yourself thinking what a great idea it would be to visit a certain place, only to find when you arrive that an old friend you haven’t seen for years is also there.Kate is manipulated several times in the book and so are those around her. In the church, Ash’s brother cajoles her into digging up the box and suggests she takes it home. When she becomes resistant to this idea he becomes more forceful and compels her to take it. He is, of course, a Watcher and is acting in the best interests of his brother, but he might well be breaking angelic laws over this and have to face consequences later. Ash, as a fallen angel, possesses this power too and uses it to gently persuade Brian to leave the nightclub instead of fighting him and later he uses it on a wider scale to influence the crowds at the Festival of Angels. Under his guidance the crowd parts to allow himself and Kate, who has a fear of crowds and small places, through unhindered, and later he compels diners to leave a busy pub so that he and Kate can get a table and have dinner together. Demons would use this power for nefarious ends and to manipulate people into committing anything from petty theft to horrific crimes and acts of violence.

Of course, humans have free will and so could easily resist this manipulation if they so wished. Angelic beings can merely suggest a course of action, it would be no use for a demon to suggest murder, for instance, to someone totally opposed to this action.


Angelic beings can read minds and converse telepathically with each other and with non-angelic beings. Kate hears Ash’s voice before she even meets him and is unnerved by his intrusion into her private thoughts. He tries to respect her privacy, but as her guardian angel he has a much closer bond with her and finds it difficult to close off entirely.This short extract from Blacfeather is a moment from early on in Kate and Ash’s relationship, shortly after she finds out what he really is:

It unnerved her, the way he knew she was there, even with his back to her and his earphones in. She wasn’t going to argue with him and watched as he dished up a generous helping of baked beans. He was humming a tune she knew well now and it sounded good. Good enough for a choir.

Choir of angels, said a voice in her head.

He placed the plate in front of her and poured real coffee from her mother’s best silver coffee pot, then looked up to find her wary eyes on him.

“Sorry, I’ll try not to intrude.”

This ability becomes very useful if you want to conduct a private conversation that can’t be overheard by others. It is also great for communicating over vast distances. Angelic beings may have the means to block or divert other angelics from their mind at will. Most demons do this as a matter of course, as they don’t even trust their own brethren.


All angels are, for the most part invisible to humans and only show themselves on rare occasions, fallen angels, demons and Watchers are “clothed” in physical bodies that can be seen as clearly as any other human, but can vanish and hide themselves from sight at will. For Ash, this is a very useful power, especially when danger is nearby or when his presence will be awkward for Kate. Of course, for us, it means that we can be watched at any and all times by beings unseen, whether they be friend or adversary. We will discover some more angel abilities in the next post

Nel Ashley is the author of Blackfeather – a Fallen Angel Paranormal Romance  and Immortal, the second book in the Blackfeather Series. She is currently working on her third novel, Persephone Reborn, a vampire romance influenced by Greek mythology.

You can also connect with Nel on Facebook and Twitter