The Genes of Isis Book Tour & Giveaway

Before
she was born, the Helios, a tribe of angels from the sun, came to
Earth to deliver the Surge, the next step in the evolution of an
embryonic human race. Instead they spawned a race of hybrids and
infected humanity with a hybrid seed.

Horque
manifests on Earth with another tribe of angels, the Solarii, to
rescue the genetic mix-up and release the Surge.

Akasha
embarks on a journey from maiden to mother and from apprentice to
priestess then has a premonition that a great flood is imminent. All
three races – humans, hybrids and Solarii – face
extinction.

With
their world in crisis, Akasha and Horque meet, and a sublime love
flashes between them. Is this a cause of hope for humanity and the
Solarii? Or will the hybrids destroy them both? Will anyone survive
the killing waters of the coming apocalypse?

46. The Hanging Gardens

The soft rain pattered against her face and sprinkled onto the swollen river. A dull thud nearby
announced something falling out of the sky. Akasha looked: it was a small bird with brown and
white markings. One wing lay open, the other broken and twisted. The tiny feathers on its chest
were still.
If only she could pass on the stirrings of this new life in her womb to the bird and bring it
back to life. She felt so helpless. The sheer bulk of her belly prevented her from even bending
over and picking it up. Instead, she caressed its mangled body with the tip of her staff. This was
all wrong. Birds flew in the air; they weren’t disgorged by it. A hawk? Now that would be ironic.
The poor thing had no wounds or predatory marks, so what had killed it?
A wave of sadness washed over her. The river had broken its banks and flooded her herb
garden. A bird had plummeted out of the sky. To hide it and cover her melancholy, she sprinkled
garden cuttings over its lifeless body. Beneath glowering skies, she stood alone in the slow,
persistent rain, feeling vulnerable and sad. Her time in the gardens had been serene but now her
body tensed in preparation for something worse, much worse.
It was as if the dead bird had fallen through a tear in the mystical fabric of the world, a tear
through which the furies themselves were about to burst.

Followthe tour HEREfor exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!