Wings of the Wicked
Page 103

I pulled her into a tight hug. “Come back soon,” I said. “Anytime, please. We’d love to see you.”
She smiled. “Of course. Let me know if Will needs any help cleaning up the place.”
I shrugged. “I think he’s on a mission to do it all by himself. I’m sorry he didn’t come down to see you.”
“It’s all right,” she said, her smile fading to a tight, pained line. Her lips quivered. “He’s hurting. It’s best to leave him be. He’ll come around when he’s ready.”
“I know.” What she said was true, but every second Will spent in his own world made my heart ache a little more. I walked Lauren outside. “I’m trying not to worry about him. I don’t want to worry about you either, okay?”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “I’ll be okay. It’ll just be hard for a while. We’ll all get through this.”
“Thank you, Lauren,” I said. “Call me soon, okay?”
She smiled. “I will. Check in with your grandmother, okay?” Then she climbed into her car and was gone.
For the next several days, Will and I said very little to each other. He had thrown himself fully into restoring Nathaniel’s house. I made sure he ate and slept, but between our brief exchanges of conversation was complete silence, and the loneliness was killing me. My phone was off and no one knew where I was. I didn’t know what to tell Nana and my friends about what had happened or where I’d been.
Kelaeno was dead, but that didn’t mean her prophecy had died with her. In my heart, I feared that it was coming true, bit by bit. For so long I had believed that the scariest thing in the world would be losing my soul, or Will, but now that I had been faced with nearly losing both in one night, I realized that I was more afraid of losing him.
I told Will once that I didn’t want to just survive, I wanted to live. And here I was, the living dead, waiting for the inevitable. I felt like I was giving up already, and I couldn’t let myself think that. I had to survive this. I had to live. And locking myself inside this big house to rot was not living. It was existing. I wanted to feel alive again, and in order to do that, I needed my friends and family. I wanted a future. I wanted to get my life back.
29
I TOOK A DEEP BREATH BEFORE I RAISED MY HAND to knock on the door. Nana flung it open before I could knock a second time, so quickly, as if she’d been waiting by the door the entire time.
“Oh, my …” my grandmother murmured, touching her fingers to her mouth in surprise. “Ellie.”
“Hey, Nana,” I said with a weak smile. “I’m so sorry.”
She ushered me in through the door, soaking me with her radiance and relief at seeing me. “Come in, honey. It’s freezing out there. I’ll get you some hot tea.”
A few minutes later, I sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea as Nana fixed me soup at the stove. “You don’t have to do that,” I said, watching her sadly. “I’m not hungry, really. I don’t want you to go through the trouble.” In truth, I was starving, but it felt so wrong to just show up back at her house and have her make me dinner. It made me feel even lower than I already did, and that was saying a lot.
“Yes, I do,” she said. “The least I can do after you’ve been gone for almost two weeks is make you a hot meal.”
“But you don’t owe me anything,” I assured her. “I really don’t deserve it.”
She removed the pot to let it cool. “After what you’ve been through, child, you do.”
I stared at her in surprise and puzzlement. Why wasn’t she yelling at me, scolding me for running off and showing up after weeks of no contact? Why wasn’t she furious?
She came to the table and sat down next to me. She took my hand and held it in both of hers. “You’ve lost your parents and so much more. I was angry when you left, but I’ve done a lot of thinking, and I realize that much of this could have been avoided if I’d done better for you.”
I shook my head. “None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Yes, I did,” she corrected me firmly. “I owe you an explanation. I’m angry with myself for making you go through this alone. I had the power to help you, but I was afraid and partially in denial. I was afraid of getting involved.”
I studied her eyes, searching for answers. “What are you talking about?”
She swallowed. “I knew, child. I knew everything. I know who you are.”
“Who I—?”
“I know you are the Preliator.”
She knew? How? I had never revealed who I was to a soul who wasn’t already in my world. “I don’t understand,” I squeaked, my voice quaking. “How can you know?”
“I am a psychic, Ellie,” she said simply. “I have always seen the reapers, but I had no idea that my granddaughter would ever be Gabriel’s vessel. I didn’t believe Frank when he told me until he showed me an old photograph of the two of you and your Guardian.”
“Frank,” I repeated, running names through my head. “Frank Meyer? My teacher?”
She nodded. “There aren’t many of us, and most of us know one another. I kept in contact with him for many years, and when he told me that you were the Preliator, I had a hard time believing him. And then these rumors began flying around about you actually being Gabriel….”