Wings of the Wicked - By Courtney Allison Moulton Page 0,107

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.

The small army of unknown reapers—three males and two females—held still and silent, as if waiting for orders to engage. The male standing out in front was shorter than the rest and was drooling revolting amounts of saliva that squeezed out from between his lips and sharp teeth and rolled down his chin. Instead of hair, this one had a dozen or so short spikes made of clean white bone sticking out of his skull in every direction.

A hand locked around my throat and threw me across the living room. My body smashed into the stone fireplace, collapsing the mantle, and rubble rained down on me as I