Wings of the Wicked (45 page)

“Oh, I won’t go into details while we’re at school,” she said. “I’ll tell you more later. You’ve missed a lot since you’ve been gone and then busy catching up in classes.”

“I’m sure,” I said. “We need to have a heart-to-heart all-nighter.”

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked, nudging my shoulder and frowning as we walked down the hall. “You should come over. Maybe stay the night Friday or Saturday.”

“I can’t,” I said honestly. “I’m sorry. I’ll let you know about this weekend, though. Tonight is a me-and-Will thing.”

“Can’t skip it for me?”

“It’s his birthday, actually,” I said. “He doesn’t know I’m planning anything, but I wanted to do something sweet for him.”

Kate nodded. “He needs it. And so do you. Did you get him anything?”

“He wouldn’t like a present if I got him one,” I said. “The celebration will be enough for him. Probably
too
much.”

“He’ll love it,” she said, grinning. “Even if he doesn’t freak out or anything—which of course he won’t, because he thinks he’s too cool to let anyone know he likes something—he’ll still love it. I think it’s a great idea.”

I smiled, mostly to myself. It would make him happy, and I wanted him to be happy. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure it’ll embarrass him, but oh, well. It’s funny when he’s embarrassed.”

“We’re really mean to boys.”

“They’re mean back.”

I bought a plain white cake at the grocery store after school, and as soon as I got home, I realized I didn’t want tonight to be just Will and me. I wanted all of his friends there, so he knew that he still had them, that he hadn’t lost everything but me. I called up Lauren, Marcus, and even Ava and made sure they’d be at my grandmother’s house. Lauren, thankfully, volunteered to come over and hang out with me before the party.

I also bought some icing tubes to scribble all over Will’s birthday cake, but once I got to decorating, I decided I didn’t want to make some boring cake. I wanted to create something that would make him laugh. Lauren sat across from me at the kitchen table as I kinda drew snarling stick reapers with angry eyes and sharp, gaping mouths on their bubble heads and outspread wings, all surrounding a figure in the middle who was supposed to be Will. I stopped in the middle of the icing drawing and frowned disapprovingly. The stick Will didn’t look much like real Will, so I dabbed on a pair of green eyes, outlined him a pair of wings, and painted a sword in his hand that wasn’t quite as fancy as the real thing. Then I took the red icing tube and splattered the whole cake with it until it was a freaking massacre of frosting stick reapers. I even smeared red on the sword and wrote
HAPPY BIRTHDAY WILL
across the top in the drippy red icing. Nana glared at me and cleared her throat noticeably as she passed the table, and Lauren looked up at her apologetically. Regular cakes are no fun. This one was awesome.

At seven, Nana left to go play poker with her girl friends. (Or I should say she went to go
destroy
her girl friends at poker. Since she was psychic, it was sort of cheating.) I called Will to come over. Everyone arrived a few minutes before he did and went into the kitchen. It would have been impossible to truly surprise Will, since he’d notice Marcus’s and Lauren’s cars parked in the driveway—which of course he did—but he came inside very confused. I had on a ridiculous grin as I led him through the house toward the kitchen.

As soon as Will saw the cake, he burst out laughing and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. His cheeks were beginning to buzz with red and my heart lifted. “Ellie, what is this?”

I kissed his cheek. “Happy birthday, old man. I didn’t put all the candles on your cake, because it’d end up being a bonfire in my nana’s kitchen. And I know you don’t like cake, but I like cake and I’m pretty sure Lauren does too.”

Marcus raised a hand. “I like cake.”

Ava frowned at the sugary mountain of stick-reaper murder. “I do not.”

“Well.” I huffed and poked Will’s chest. “You and Ava can go pout in the corner and be losers together.”

He laughed again and pulled me toward him, but I wriggled away, fighting a smile.

“Don’t even try it,” I warned him. “I slaved over this cake! I waited for probably
five minutes
in line at the grocery store for it, and then you don’t even want to know how many hours I spent slaving over the frosting art. And Lauren watched. She knows what’s up.”

“I sure did,” Lauren said. “She squirted all that red frosting on there by herself, if you can believe that.”

I waved a dismissive hand at him. “This masterpiece puts Michelangelo to shame, and you don’t even want to eat it.” I turned to Lauren. “I should be a professional cake decorator, shouldn’t I?”

She nodded firmly, keeping a straight face. “Definitely.”

He took my hand and pulled me back to him. “Fine, fine.” He laughed. “I’ll have a piece. You pick it.”

I lifted the knife and a plate. “I’m going to give you a corner piece so all that frosting makes you sick. That’s what you get for your initial rejection.”

He stepped up close behind me and buried his face in the bend of my neck. I could feel his smile against my skin, and his happiness melted into me. “You’re very spiteful to me.”

I chose a corner piece that had a decapitated stick-reaper head on it and plopped the piece onto the plate. I turned around and shoved it at him. “It’s not spite; it’s vengeance. Shut up and eat your cake.”

He took the plate and picked up a fork. He took a big bite and smiled at me. “Delicious.”

“Duh,” I grumbled, and began serving the others. Even Ava accepted a plate with a small sliver of cake and minimal icing. We all sat around the kitchen and laughed and joked, reminiscing about good times we’d had, and about Nathaniel.

Later that evening, after everyone had left, I was cleaning dishes and Will came up behind me. He bent over to kiss my shoulder and said, “Thank you.” He moved around to help me by lifting clean dishes and drying them with a towel.

“I didn’t embarrass you, did I?” I asked.

“Just a lot.”

“Are you happy?”

“Yes,” he said, and his eyes fell over every inch of my face. “You made a mess, too.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “It’s not that bad. There isn’t much to clean up at all.”

He grinned. “I meant on your face.”

I jumped and wiped at my cheeks. “Are you serious? There’s cake on my face?”

His grin widened.

I gasped at him and shoved him while he laughed. “I can’t believe you knew it was there all night and didn’t say anything to me!”

He shrugged and gave a playful, smug look. “It’s not spite; it’s vengeance.”

“You’re such a jerk!”

“No, I’m not,” he said. “I’ll even help you clean it up.” He leaned forward and slowly kissed the smudge of frosting on my cheek, sending a mix of shivers and heat straight to my toes. I wobbled and had to lean against the counter for support.

It was hard for me to gather enough breath in order to speak. “That didn’t help at all.”

“Forgive me,” he whispered very unconvincingly, and kissed my lips without any hurry, as if he had all the time in the world.

“That’s not frosting,” I scolded him, very aware that his lips still brushed mine.

“Tastes like it.” He didn’t wait for me to respond before he opened his mouth against mine and pressed himself into me. My hands were still wet from washing dishes, but I couldn’t stop myself from putting them all over him. He didn’t seem to mind as he tugged me as close as possible to his body and kissed me thoroughly. I made a little noise as I smiled against his kiss and his mouth moved south to my jaw and neck. His hands slid down my sides to my hips as his lips and teeth grazed my throat. His fingers were hot as they slipped just under my shirt, brushing my belly.

“We should go upstairs,” he whispered hotly, and his lips found mine again.

Heat flushed through me. “Upstairs?”

“Or we should stay right here.” His hands smoothed lower over my hips, and his fingers dipped into my jeans. His teeth nipped my bottom lip as he kissed me.

The spinning through my body made me dizzy, and I was about to faint. “My grandmother will be home soon.”

“Or we should go someplace that’s not here.”

I bounced the idea around inside my head, but it was very difficult to think with him kissing me the way he was. I wanted to say yes to him, to agree to anything that he suggested, but something other than desire made me question what I really wanted. I wasn’t afraid of having sex with him—that wasn’t what it was. I just … it wasn’t right yet. It wasn’t the right time. I wasn’t ready yet.

“I don’t …” I started, and felt him tense immediately. “No, Will.”

He studied my face, his green eyes gentle and not full of anger or annoyance. “Okay.”

I could feel the scarlet rushing into my cheeks. “Just for right now.”

He gave me a genuine smile and pulled his hands out away from my skin. “Of course.” He kissed me sweetly and made a real attempt at cleaning up the frosting on my cheek with his thumb. “How did you even get this on your face? Were you shoving the whole piece into your mouth?”

“No,” I grumbled at him, feeling the awkwardness wash away. He made me feel completely at ease. “I think it had a whole reaper body on it, so there was a lot of frosting. Don’t judge me.”

“I never judge you.”

“You’re judging me right now,” I retorted. “You’d better be nice to me or I’ll never make you another root beer float again, which means no more root beer float kisses.”

He laughed. “That’s a little harsh.”

“What was your favorite food before root beer floats were invented?” I asked curiously.

He gave me a weird look and shrugged. “I don’t know. Food was terrible before people started putting lots of chemicals and artificial flavors into it to make it taste better. I guess I’ve always like carrots a lot.”

“Carrots?”
I blurted out, gaping at him. “Your other favorite food is
carrots
? What is wrong with you?”

“Hey now, you were just getting mad at me for being judgmental. Don’t be a hypocrite. Besides, carrots have a very pleasant taste when they aren’t sour.”

I ignored that remark. “
Please
tell me there is some other food that you like more than
carrots
.”

“I suppose I like strawberries a lot, too,” he offered.

I rolled my eyes. “I will never understand you.”

“I know what
your
favorite food is,” he challenged.

“Oh?”

“Cold Stone,” he said with a grin. “Cold Stone anything.”

My grin matched his, and I slipped my arms around his waist. “You know me too well.”

31

BEFORE I EVEN EXITED THE SCHOOL BUILDING ON Monday afternoon, I sensed him. Instead of continuing toward the student parking lot, I veered left and eased toward the tree he stood under, protecting himself from the sunlight. I ignored the stares and whispers of students behind me and smiled carefully at him. Cadan gave me a warm smile in return, his pale gold hair shining even in the shade and blowing gently in the spring breeze. I stopped under the tree with him, lugging my backpack higher over my shoulder.

“Hello,” he said, his voice as gentle as his smile.

“Hello,” I said back, resisting the urge to reach for him and hold him close. The events from the last time I had seen him replayed over in my head, everything he had said and done. All that he had risked, and how courageous he’d been to stand up to his father. I couldn’t tell him how much I had admired him, or how much I cared about him, or how much sadness I felt in my heart for him.

Things were far more awkward than I’d ever wanted them to be between us, but after all that we’d been through together, how could it be any different? We’d seen each other at our most vulnerable, and there was nothing to hide anymore. I cared about him—and I had never cared about a demonic reaper before. He had told me that he was in love with me. This was new for the both of us.

“How are you, Cadan?” I asked, forcing myself to say something,
anything
.

He shrugged. “Could be better. How have you been?”

Even though he held his emotions firmly, the affection in his gaze as he looked at me was obvious and comforting. “Tired,” I confessed. “Finding it hard to return to a normal life.”

“Your life will never be normal.”

I frowned a little. “Not all of it, no. But it’s all relative, I guess. I have two lives, but each is its own kind of normal. I just need to learn how not to let the Preliator reaper killer side bleed into the Ellie side. I don’t want the Preliator to be all that I am.”

“No,” he mused. “You’re always Ellie, but you’re also always the Preliator. The two mix more seamlessly than you think.”

“So there really is no escape.” I sighed. “I’m stuck with you winged boys forever.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t bother you anymore after this.” He gave me a sad look that made me instantly want to take back what I’d just said.

“No,” I said quickly. “I meant that as a joke. I’m glad to see you.”

“Right back at you. I didn’t just come to see you, though.”