Wings of the Wicked
Page 100

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.”