Wings of the Wicked (41 page)

Cadan stared down at him. “You deserve Heaven even less than that beast you brought back from the bowels of the earth. You only want to destroy everything because you envy the humans their souls and because you’re terrified of death. You can’t have Heaven, and neither can I. None of us can! You want revenge you were never entitled to. This is not right! Annihilating the human and angel races is
not right
. I can’t allow you to continue. My allegiance is no longer to you. I will defend the Preliator at any cost, even if it takes my life, even if it forces me to destroy you.”

Bastian shot to his feet and threw a punch, but Cadan caught it in his fist, forcing Bastian’s arm down. “I am stronger now,” Cadan said. He kicked Bastian’s chest, forcing him back, and he called a long, elegantly curved blade into his hand and pointed it at his father. “And my act of defiance tonight,” he snarled, echoing Bastian’s words from their confrontation the night we had thrown Sammael’s sarcophagus into the sea, “will be my greatest.”

“Will,” I said faintly, tugging at his shredded shirt. “We should go.”

But he only stared, and I realized he was torn between fleeing and protecting the reaper who called himself his father. I tugged harder, and Will took a single step with me as I backed away.

Cadan lifted his sword, poising it at Bastian, one hand on the hilt, his other palm pressed against the blade to steady it. Bastian drew his own sword from nothingness, a heavier, broader blade, one that looked like it could break Cadan’s in half. Then they both launched toward each other, moving so fast they disappeared from sight for a second, but came together in a lightning storm of silver blade against silver blade. Cloth ripped and blood sprayed as the demonic reapers battled.

Cadan’s power erupted, the inky black explosion slamming into the houses on either side of him, shattering every single window. Shards of glass and chunks of brick and wood rained down on the reapers. Cadan’s wings, with their leathery, batlike design, made him appear sinister, reminding me then that despite how sweet he was to me, he was indeed a demonic reaper.

And then Cadan grunted and doubled over as Bastian’s sword shoved into his abdomen, spilling blood. I hid my face in Will’s chest, clutching his shirt, and he pulled me closer. I couldn’t watch Cadan die. I couldn’t watch any more of my friends die tonight.

“It’s over,” Bastian growled as he forced his blade deeper.

Rage and pain bled over Cadan’s face as he tried to rise, gasping in agony, his eyes driving into Bastian’s. “For
you
.” In a flash, Cadan slammed his sword into Bastian’s chest—straight through his heart.

Bastian staggered and convulsed as he backed away, clutching at the blade buried in his heart, staring at his son.

Wrapping his hands around the hilt of Bastian’s sword sticking out of his gut, Cadan gave it a strong yank, suppressing a cry of pain, and he tossed it to the ground. His wounds healed. Bastian’s did not.

Bastian sank to his knees as stone spread from his wound, covering his skin quickly. Cadan took hold of his sword and slipped it from Bastian’s chest as his father moaned, folding into himself in agony. I didn’t breathe until Bastian was dead.

Cadan snapped his face to our direction, opal fires blazing in both his eyes. “Will, take her and
go
!”

My fingers dug into Will’s arm, and it seemed to snap him back to reality. He turned to me and his white wings burst from his shoulders, tearing even more holes into his shirt. He pulled me close and lifted me up, cradling me to his chest. Then he was silent as he jumped into the air. The ground below grew farther and farther away the higher and faster Will took us, and I stared down at Cadan until he disappeared into the night.

28

WHEN WE RETURNED TO NATHANIEL’S HOUSE, WILL and I were still numb with shock, battered on the outside and broken on the inside. So much had happened in only a matter of hours, so much that neither of us could ever have been prepared to face. We sat in the living room, on separate couches, staring at the filthy carpet in silence. Marcus and Ava had left. Our clothes were torn and bloody, and the first floor of the house was all but completely destroyed. Nathaniel was dead. The Demon Queen and the Fallen angel of death were now running rampant in the human world. Bastian claimed that Will’s mother still lived, that she was somewhere out there in the world as a relic guardian. Will had seen Cadan kill his father before his eyes and was unsure if he should have interfered instead of letting Cadan do it. For so long, Will had believed that he had no family, that all he had was me. But now everything had changed. And now I held the secret that Cadan was Will’s half-brother, a secret that ate at me from the inside out.

Dawn was creeping over the horizon, casting a glow through the broken windows and breaches in the walls. And finally, after what seemed like a thousand years of sitting in complete silence, Will rose to his feet. He moved past where I sat, looking straight ahead, his body rigid from head to toe. I got up to follow him, keeping a tentative distance.

I followed him out to the deck, where he moved to the edge and stared out onto the destroyed lawn. I was freezing from the icy air and the cold ache in my heart. He descended the stairs slowly, heavily, and headed to where Nathaniel had fallen. He paused there and stared down at the ground. I eased close to him with caution, watching him. His arms hung at his sides and his fists rolled into tight balls, the skin stretching white over his knuckles as his wings grew and slipped through the tears in his shirt. They expanded unhurriedly, solemnly, and the light of the dawn cast a golden glow across the pearlescent feathers. At his feet were Nathaniel’s remains.

“Will,” I whispered, stepping in front of him. “Say something.”

The silence between us was like a void sucking at my brain. He stood there, a statue in the dawn light, his face hardened like the stone Nathaniel had become. I reached for him, a little afraid that he might crumble if I touched him.

“I’m so sorry, Will,” I breathed.

He stared down at me, the green of his eyes dulled to a barren gray, and his lips tightened as if he wanted to say something but refused. His wings stretched away from me and folded to his back. I slid my hands around his head and through his hair, stood on my tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. He exhaled but stayed so stiff that I thought he’d shatter any moment. I kissed his lips, stifling a cry, and his shoulders sagged as a tear ran down his cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, and kissed him again.

My hands slid down his neck and chest and up his back, his feathers brushing my skin. I rested my cheek against his chest. He moved at last, leaning over me and wrapping his arms around me. He buried his face in my hair at the bend of my neck and squeezed me tight.

I pulled away and he looked into my face sadly, his arms lingering around me. “You need to rest,” I told him. “Get some sleep.”

He shook his head heavily. “I can’t. Not now.”

“You will once you lie down.” I took his hand and led him back into the house. We stepped through the wreckage and went up what was left of the stairs to his room. The second floor was basically untouched and appeared almost as if nothing had happened at all. In Will’s bedroom, the morning light began to stream through the blinds, making the room feel a little warmer than it was.

I shut the door behind us and turned to him. I pushed his shredded shirt up and over his head. His eyes were glued to mine. His skin was pale from exhaustion and lack of food, making the tattoos covering his right arm, shoulder, and neck contrast even more violently. I turned to drop his shirt on the floor behind me, but when I turned back, he wrapped an arm around my waist and opened his mouth against mine, kissing me much differently than I had kissed him minutes ago outside. He pulled me to his bare chest and his kiss was deep and hot, sending a low ache through my body. I put my hands on his arms, and my grip tightened briefly before I reluctantly pushed him back. He broke his kiss and met my eyes in confusion. I swallowed, hoping my actions told him what I didn’t want to say with words. That kind of closeness wasn’t what either of us needed right now. It was painfully difficult to refuse him then, but it was for the best. This wasn’t the right time.

The rejection melted away from his face, and he looked down at me soberly. I pressed a gentle hand to his chest and guided him to the bed. I climbed in, my fingers loosely entwining with his, and he followed me, crawling under the blankets with me. Within moments it was plenty warm, and with the door shut, no icy drafts blew into the room. I could hear the wind picking up outside, whistling by the window, and as Will settled down and I laid my cheek on his chest, his heartbeat became the only thing I could hear. By some miracle, he fell asleep, and I followed him soon after.

When I woke, Will was gone. I found him sitting on the swing bench overlooking the lake. I had wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and now lifted it at my feet so the ends didn’t drag in the cold, wet grass peeking through patches of melted snow. He sat in silence, leaning forward on his elbows, his lips brushing his knuckles. Something was clasped between his hands, and a delicate gold chain slipped through his fingers. He didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. For a moment, I regretted intruding on him, but he didn’t need to be alone. Not right now. Neither of us did.

“Will,” I said gently as I approached him. He didn’t look up. “Can I sit down?”

His hesitation made something ball up in my throat. “Of course.”

I eased into the seat beside him, studying his profile and furrowed brow. I wouldn’t ask him if he was okay. Of course he wasn’t okay. Nathaniel was dead. I gazed at his hands. “What’s that?” I asked, indicating the chain.

He sat back, exhaling, and opened his hands. It was my lost pendant, unharmed except for the broken chain. He held it out to me and I took it.

“You found it.” I clutched it tightly to my chest. It warmed almost on contact. “Thank you.”

He said nothing.

I put the necklace in my pocket for safekeeping. I’d have to get a new chain soon. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”

His expression softened, and I was able to feel better about intruding on his solitude. “Coming up with a plan.”

I sighed. That was the Will I knew, always focused on the future and never the past or present. It was easier for him to focus on something other than Nathaniel’s death.

“At least Bastian is out of the way,” I offered.

He didn’t answer or acknowledge what I’d said. Perhaps now I understood what Will had been feeling all along, the frustration and need to be there for me when he was unwanted. I didn’t want to be unwanted now, and neither did he.

“What should our next move be?” I asked.

“We lie low,” he said, surprising me. I think I expected him to demand that we eat a feast and march off to war at dusk. “Azrael came in at the right time, but Sammael also underestimated us. He will not risk making another mistake and losing you a second time. He has been dormant for thousands of years and could still need time to recover his strength, just as you do each time you’re awakened. Azrael’s glory weakened him, so we may have bought some time.”

I gaped at him. “Why are we letting him get stronger? We should take him out now while he’s weak.”

“Because we can’t beat him,” Will said firmly. “I am just a reaper, and you have a breakable human body. We will never be able to beat him or Lilith. He is one of the Fallen and the Right Hand of Lucifer. There’s no way anything besides an archangel could obliterate him. We need Azrael. We need the Destroyer.”

“But Azrael is an outcast,” I said, perplexed. “He’s not an archangel anymore.”

“He’s defeated Sammael twice already. He can do it again.”

“What if he can’t?” I asked. “He couldn’t kill Sammael last night, only hold him off. What about Michael?”

He shook his head. “Michael can’t engage until there is outright war. It’s not his job. That’s why Azrael was punished in the first place. Absolute obedience, or you are cast out, killed, or forced to fall.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m human,” I said. He gave me a puzzled look and I continued, my temper spinning hot. “Nathaniel told me that angels don’t have free will in Heaven, that they never make a single choice on their own. Everything they do is an order. I’m human now, with a human soul, and I have the free will to choose. And I choose to stop the war before it happens rather than sitting around like Michael and waiting for someone to tell me to make a move.”

Will paused thoughtfully, and his gaze drifted out over the lake. “I won’t let you fight Sammael until I know we can defeat him. With him able to destroy your soul, we can’t afford to make a mistake. We only have one shot, and we cannot lose.”

There was no changing his mind. At this point, not that I wanted Sammael to eat my soul, but I couldn’t rely on someone else to save the world—I couldn’t trust anyone with that responsibility but myself. “So then how do we summon Azrael and give him solid form so he can help us?”