Wings of the Wicked - By Courtney Allison Moulton Page 0,91

happened exactly?” Will asked with an edge of authority to his voice. He had transformed into all-business Will.

“We were ambushed,” Ava explained. “They made it clear they were looking for you, Ellie.”

My blood ran cold, and Will’s gentle hand on my back did little to reassure me. So Merodach and Kelaeno were collecting me next. “Does this mean they’ve found whatever else they need?”

Sabina exchanged a look with Ava. “I assume so.”

I looked at Will, panic pulsing through me. “What do we do?”

He frowned. “I don’t want you to worry about it. You don’t need any more stress right now.”

I almost laughed. “I have two demonic reapers, both thousands of years old, hunting me, at the moment. This is a slightly different situation than Ragnuk trying to kill me. How can I not worry about it?”

He reached for me again. “Ellie—”

Panic shot through me, and I needed to get away from the reapers. I stepped out of his reach and started back to the lane my friends surrounded. “I’m fine. Just … leave me alone for a minute.”

I heard his fist slam the wall behind me, but I didn’t turn around. When I returned to my friends, Chris put a hand on my shoulder, looking past me to Ava and Sabina.

“Who are they?” he asked, his brown eyes wide. “Are they Will’s friends?”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Yeah. Why?”

“They are smoking hot.”

Not again. What was with my friends and these reapers? “They’re lesbians,” I lied. “Don’t bother.”

Chris grinned stupidly. “Nice.”

I rolled my eyes and looked over my shoulder at the reapers. Will was speaking rapidly to Ava as Sabina stood silently, but judging by the frustration on his face and the sad look in Ava’s eyes, I guessed the subject matter was no longer Merodach and Kelaeno, but me.

The demonic reapers were after me now. I’d killed the nycterids employed by Bastian, and now he was sending his worst after me, just like Cadan had said would happen. I had known my family was in danger, but I was too selfish to do anything about it or to miss out on my stupid social life. All I had left now were my friends, and here I was, perfectly aware that I was in danger and that, by being around them, I put them in danger.

I looked around me at my friends’ smiling, laughing faces as I leaned heavily against the short wall holding all the bowling balls. I didn’t even know what I was doing here. Grabbing my purse, I went up to the shoe rental and returned the bowling shoes for my sneakers. As I walked away, I bit back a sob and a pang of nausea in my gut. The nausea became overwhelming, and I hurried to the restroom, determined not to throw up in front of everyone. I burst in and threw myself into a stall and locked the door behind me. Instead of getting sick, I sat down on the seat and buried my face in my hands. I took long, deep breaths, trying not to cry.

I didn’t want to hurt any more people I loved. I was a target and anywhere I was could potentially be ground zero for a battle. If only I—

The restroom door opened, and voices and footsteps echoed off the walls. They rustled around and stopped in front of the sinks.

“A nutjob for sure,” one girl exclaimed.

A second girl laughed. “How do you know? Have you even talked to her once?”

“Well, her dad killed her mom,” the first girl said. “So the crazy has got to be genetic.”

I swallowed hard and felt an icy rush as the blood drained from my face. My pulse hammered through my skull.

“Is that seriously what happened?” a third girl asked incredulously.

“Oh, yeah. My uncle is a cop, and they’re looking for the dad. He says they’ve been talking to the FBI. It’s that serious.”

The second girl loosed a long whistle. “Wow.”

“What was her name again? Emily something?”

“Ellie Monroe. She’s that girl who got so wasted at her birthday party that she drove her car through her house and almost died or something. But her parents just bought her a brand-new car to replace the one she totaled, because she’s so spoiled. If you ask me, she’s probably what drove her dad to kill her mom. He probably killed himself, too. Can’t blame him.”

My stomach heaved over and over, but nothing came up. I wasn’t crying yet, but if I stayed there another moment, I’d start screaming.