I feel it only fair to warn you guys that I am involved in a one-sided fictional relationship with Cynthia Hand. In which we spend our evenings sipping martinis and laughing hysterically at the craptasticness of all the recent angel novels, while Jericho Barrons kneels at my side sporting a Galactica flight suit and feeding me chocolate-dipped cherries. 
 (Apparently, my fantasies have a knack for getting out of control at times. Just roll with it). 
 Anyhoodle, Unearthly is a delicious cheese-filled Happy Meal remaining afloat in a sea of unwashed goat carcasses, (Fallen, Hush, Hush... the list is long), and it is for this reason that the general GoodReads population (myself included) is praising its very existence. 
 Sure, there are far better YA novels. But what makes it unique is the WTF curve-ball she hurls at you at the end. 
 Oh ya'ess she did. 
 Having said that, give me a month or two and I will probably forget it was ever written. And I will choose a new author with whom to share my fangirl daydreams. 
 ...and Cynthia Hand can get back to drinking the blood of virgins from the hoof of a Pterodactyl. Or whatever the hell she does to keep ahead of her game.