“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 ange
r 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.”
My brow lifted. “Oh?”
“I heard something,” he said, the gleam in his eyes going out like candle flames. “Before my father … died. About something he was very afraid of, something he didn’t want you to find. The hallowed glaive. It sounds very important.”
“The hallowed glaive?” I repeated, putting the puzzle pieces together in my head. “A glaive is a type of blade, so it may be a weapon of some kind.”
He nodded. “Yes. I think it’s perhaps one that can destroy Sammael and even Lilith. I think you should look into it.”
“It could even be a relic.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But maybe not. Information on something like this would be in the grimoire, but Sammael still has it, and there’s no way I would be able to infiltrate and get it back. They know me as a traitor now.”
My lips tightened. “You’re right. It would be too dangerous for you to go back.”
“For you, as well.”
“I know,” I said. “But I don’t have a choice. We need that book.” But as soon as I said it, I remembered there may be another hope. “Then again, Nathaniel said he had a copy of the grimoire. It’s missing from his collection, but we’ve got to find it. This book is our only hope. I can’t face Sammael again without a real chance at beating him. We need the big guns for this one.”
His face brightened with hope. “Any idea who could have taken it?”
I shook my head, and an invisible force tightened around my heart. “No. Nathaniel is dead. He’s the only one who knew anything about that book.” I slumped against the tree beside Cadan. He pushed himself off the trunk and faced me, looking down serenely.
“There’s always a chance,” he said. “I’ll help you find it.”
That put a smile on my face. I knew he’d keep that promise as well as he could. He’d given up all that he knew because he believed in me. I needed to believe in him, too. “Thank you, Cadan.”
“Of course.”
I bit on my lip and stared at the ground, battling inwardly with myself. I wanted to tell him what I’d learned about Will, but I wasn’t sure if I ought to, especially since Will didn’t know yet.
“Whatever you want to say must be important if you’re making that little face.”
“Oh!” I jumped, embarrassed, and felt heat rushing into my cheeks. “Yeah, it’s important.”
“Are you going to tell me?” he pressed.
“It’s about Bastian,” I admitted, unable to hold it in any longer. “Back in that creepy basement, he was talking to Will, asking him to join him, and he said … that Will was his son.”
Cadan’s eyes widened in surprise, and his lips parted. He didn’t move or blink for what felt like minutes.
I continued, speaking slowly and carefully. “If what he said is true, then Will is your half-brother. His mother is an angelic reaper. Yours, I assume, is demonic.”
At last there was life on his face. He swallowed painfully hard. “Are you sure?”
“That’s what Bastian claimed.” I didn’t tell him that Bastian had also said he had loved Madeleine. That somehow seemed private, even though Bastian had thrown it into Will’s face in front of everyone in that room. Cadan also probably didn’t want to hear that part. I knew nothing of his mother and how Bastian may have treated her. I didn’t get the impression that Bastian had ever been kind to Cadan, so why would he have been kind to his mother?
Cadan stared through me at nothing, his eyes unfocused and dazed. I could see him calculating in his mind, lost in thought.
“Are you
okay?” I asked.
He blinked. “I’m just … very surprised. No wonder we never liked each other. Innate brotherly rivalry, I suppose, besides loving the same girl. Anyway, Will has every right to hate me.”
I frowned. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I did nothing,” he said again. “Geir and I were the ones who captured Will and took him to Bastian. The night Ragnuk killed you and took you to where Bastian held Will, I was there. And I did nothing. I just let it all happen.”
We fell into silence. I could hear the regret in Cadan’s voice. He hadn’t been able to stand up to those who controlled him until now. I understood that feeling of helplessness better than most. It took an extraordinary amount of courage to stand up to those you fear, whether they were Hellspawn or blood family or both.
“It’s rather strange that the first time I saw you,” he said, swallowing hard at a pause, “you were dead. I like it better when you’re alive.”
“That’s funny. Me too.”
He smiled sideways for an instant. “I’m serious, Ellie.”
“But you didn’t do nothing the night Bastian took me,” I assured him. “You came to save me, didn’t you?”
His gaze fell to the grass at our feet. He nodded.
“Bastian was going to fight Will and probably kill him,” I continued. “You stopped that. You saved both our lives. You protected us, and you stood up for humanity. That took a lot of courage and good in you. Thank you, Cadan.”
He opened his mouth to speak but was hesitant. “I killed my own father to do it.”
I chose my words carefully. “Do you believe what you did was wrong?”
His brow furrowed and his eyes darkened as he continued to stare at the ground. “What he wanted was wrong. I just didn’t know how else to stop him. But I feel …” He looked up at the green canopy of the tree above us. “I feel like it doesn’t matter that he’s dead. Sammael and Lilith are alive. Merodach is still out there, and there’s no telling how many other demonic reapers are in league with them. I felt like it was in vain. Like nothing good came out of it anyway.”
Wings of the Wicked Page 34
