Wings of the Wicked Page 84


I shrugged and stopped tapping. “It’s hard to be happy.”

“I understand better than most,” he said. “I worry you’re shutting down on me. We hunt every night, but it feels like you’ve lost your spark, some of your light. You won’t tell me how you really feel, and I just want to help you.”

“I’m in a lot of pain,” I told him. “I want revenge, and we haven’t found Bastian yet. We have no idea what his next move will be, and I’m going crazy.”

He took my hand and rubbed it with both of his. “I need you to keep fighting. Don’t give up on me, okay?” He touched my hair and got up to leave.

“Will.” I called after him and followed him to the door. I wound my fingers around the bottom of his shirt. “I don’t mean to worry you. I’ve been so numb with grief since I lost my parents. You’re doing wonderfully, supporting me, and I appreciate that.”

“I just don’t know what to say to you or how to act.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” I pleaded, “Just be here … like you are now.”

He sighed and wrapped his arms around me. “I promise I’ll always be here for you.”

I felt new tears burning my eyes. “You can’t promise me that. I’ve already lost so much. I can’t lose you too, Will.”

He pulled back, and his thumbs wiped my tears. “It’s a promise I plan to keep, and I’ve never lied to you. I swear to you that I will be your Guardian forever and I’ll keep loving you forever.”

More tears rolled down my cheeks, and he kissed them away, his lips soft against my skin. I was so heartsick, so certain that if he died for me, I’d never survive that grief.

He tilted my chin up, his green eyes bright in the dimly lit room. “You believe me, don’t you?”

I nodded, my lips quivering. “I do.”

He kissed me tenderly and I kissed him back more fiercely, our first kiss since the night my mother died. It felt like years ago, decades, like I hadn’t taken a breath in far too long.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” he offered, his hands spilling over my shoulders. “Take it easy tonight.”

“Are you going to patrol?”

“No,” he said. “I think I’ll go down by the lake for a while and get some fresh air. Let’s go upstairs and get you into bed.”

He took my hand and led me up to his room, where I settled into his bed, pulling my limbs close to my body.

“Will you stay with me?” I asked as I pulled the blankets up to my chin.

“I’ll be up in a while,” he promised. “Try to sleep, okay?”

I watched him leave the room and close the door behind him. Drifting off took forever, and I kept stirring in and out of sleep for what was likely hours. His bed was so warm and soft, but my heart hurt too much for me to settle into a deep sleep.

Suddenly a tremendous roar blasted my eardrums, and the house gave a violent shake. I thrashed in surprise and terror, unsure if I’d dreamed what I’d just experienced. When my senses returned to me, I threw off the blankets and leaped to my feet. I tore open the bedroom door and darted down the stairs into the settling dust. The overhead lights flickered, buzzed, and went out, cloaking the house in darkness, my ears ringing shrilly. I moved toward the front of the house where the sound had come from, stepping slowly and silently.

“Will?” I called. “Nathaniel?”

The foyer—what was left of it—came into view. The front door had been blasted through, the wall around it demolished. The dust billowing in the moonlight now poured across the foyer tile. I slipped into the Grim and gasped when I saw what had caused the damage. A massive form appeared in the light and dust, the silhouette a jagged and crude shape of a man. But he was no man.

“Preliator!” the deep, gravelly voice of Merodach boomed, shaking my body to the bone. “Come out and play!”

Behind him, another shape appeared: Kelaeno, trailed by five more vir reapers.

They had found me.

24

KELAENO FLEW ACROSS THE DEBRIS AND LANDED inside, her wings smashing through another wall as if the wood and drywall were made of paper. Her hair was a tangled, stringy mess and her facial features were more stable than when I last saw her. With an established form, she was prettier than I thought she’d be, but the violence and insanity in her eyes shattered the image. She looked as if she already had the taste of my blood in her mouth.

“The time has come to fetch you, little huntress,” she sneered, creeping toward me with the quick, sharp movements of something more avian than human. “I think I may have a bite on the way back to Bastian. I’ve never tasted angel flesh before.”

I stared into her wicked face. “Too bad your head will be rolling in the dirt in about five seconds.”

“Bold words,” Merodach said as he stepped into the foyer, “for a dead girl.” His body was so dark that only the edges were outlined in blue moonlight. His horns spiraled toward the ceiling, and the ones on his back stuck out in every direction.

Will raced by me, appearing out of nowhere, sword in hand. Merodach called his own sword—a hilt decorated with finely sculpted, razor-sharp points, and with sleek, vicious blades on either end. Merodach’s double sword met Will’s above both their heads, and the rush of energy slammed into either side of the hallway, crushing the walls. Merodach spun his sword so fast the blades blurred and nearly took off Will’s head, but my Guardian ducked and rolled, sweeping his sword low, and Merodach leaped into the air, landing on Will’s other side. Their blades clashed again, and Will struggled to keep up with Merodach’s double blades, slashing and swiping at speeds I could barely see. With each clang of metal against metal, their energies flashed, their eyes like beacons in the dark, so bright the blackness was stained and smeared with color as they moved.

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