Wings of the Wicked
Page 31

“Then I can die happy,” he replied dramatically.
I rolled my eyes. “Cut it out. I’m being serious. I enjoyed talking to you.”
He smiled warmly. “I hope we can do it again soon.”
“Are you going to tell me that story?” I teased. “About the Grigori?”
His smile widened. “Maybe. Good night, Ellie.”
“Good night.” I smiled at him before walking away.
I was conflicted. I felt like Cadan was my friend and definitely not my enemy. He was demonic by birth, but there was nothing about him that radiated evil. Will was so sure that demonic reapers only wanted the destruction of the world and my death above all, but Cadan didn’t want to kill me. He’d had a thousand opportunities so far.
Or was I just an incredible fool?
A shadow passed over my head, and I looked up, startled.
A reaper appeared out of the Grim, ash-gray wings spread wide through the falling snow. White-blond hair billowed and settled as the reaper landed. Cold, pale eyes locked on mine.
Ivar. Her body moved so fast that the heavy cloth of the black cloak she wore lifted in the air behind her. The gray furred hood fell off her head as she lunged for me, clawed hand outstretched. I knocked her arm aside, stopping her fingers from clenching around my throat. I scrambled back as she recovered her balance and beat her wings to take another leap for me. Her cloak and dress swelled midflight.
She vanished.
Something invisible struck me viciously in the chest, sending me flying across the empty parking lot. I landed and skidded nearly twenty feet on the slick pavement before I stopped myself and jumped to my feet. I threw off my coat and followed Ivar into the Grim before she could strike me again. Her form materialized, and I whirled out of the way as her talons slashed at my face. She blurred by me, and I took the moment to breathe.
“You crazy psycho!” I shouted at her back. Will was miles away from me. By this time, he would have sensed my distress and be on his way, but until he arrived I’d have to fight Ivar alone.
She spun to face me. Her eyes were bright and wild, her expression twisted with rage. I willed my swords into my hands as she began to circle me. Angelfire erupted and lit up the rage on her face. She held out both arms and long blades appeared.
“He’s mine,” she snarled, raising the hair on the back of my neck. She leaped into the air, high over my head, blades diving down at my body. I braced on my heel and summoned my power.
Another sword swung up and clanged against Ivar’s swords between us. She hissed and reeled back, landing a few feet away.
Cadan.
I gaped at him as he stepped between Ivar and me. His own wings—feathers again, the silver-gray flashing gold in the streetlights—stretched out from his back, and he pointed his sword at Ivar. Snowflakes stuck to our hair and clothes.
“You raise your blade to me?” Ivar snarled, her voice shaking with surprise and hurt.
“Ivar,” he bellowed. “What are you doing?”
Her lips pulled back, exposing needlelike fangs. Her blades gleamed as she raised them menacingly. “What are you doing? To me?”
Cadan glared impatiently, the annoyance plain in his face. “I haven’t done anything to you.”
“Haven’t you?” Her voice cracked with desperation.
Suddenly I understood, and it was all very disturbing. This was not a love triangle I wanted to be caught up in. Perhaps love wasn’t the right word—it was more like a psycho-demonic-reaper-obsession triangle.
“You’ve lost your mind, Ivar,” he said, folding and lowering his wings. He may have meant the gesture to make him appear less aggressive, but he looked no less frightening.
She laughed high and smoothly. “And you? Spending quality time with the Preliator? Our eternal enemy? You’ve lost your mind, Cadan.”
“None of you would unders—”
“If Bastian only knew.”
“He doesn’t have to know.”
“You shame him!” she screeched. “And me! I love you, Cadan!”
His jaw tightened and he swallowed.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “This is clearly none of my business, so I’ll just go.” I started to back away, but Ivar jumped into the air and landed right behind me. I threw my swords up, ready to defend myself.
“I refuse to watch you with her,” Ivar said, stepping toward me, her eyes on me. “She’s an archangel, Cadan. You know how wrong this is! You know that you belong to me!”
His gaze darkened, and his opal eyes blazed with fire of every color, the light bright in the darkness. “I belong to no one.”
“Tell me you love me,” she begged. “Say it, and I won’t harm her this night.”
I looked at Cadan, who’d stepped up to my side. Ivar’s expression was wiped clean of the disgust and rage. She waited and I held my breath so that the only thing I heard was my heart pounding in my chest. She was about to kill me.
“Cadan, I really think you should say it,” I suggested.
“Not now, Ellie.” His voice was cold. For the first time since I’d met him, it was clear he was in no mood to joke.
Ivar’s lip curled. “What will it be?”
He remained silent.
“Then so be it,” she said.
Her wings spread and flapped, sending her body rocketing toward me, swords flying. I ducked under one blade and Cadan’s sword stopped her other. I slashed a sword across her face, and she stumbled back with a grunt but stayed standing, cheek bleeding. She righted herself and blasted her power into Cadan’s chest, blowing him away from us. She charged, snarling in rage, and cracked her elbow into my cheek. I hit the ground hard. Dazed, I barely saw Ivar drive her blade down at my face—but Cadan, appearing between us in a flash, shoved his sword into her chest. She doubled over, her hair brushing my face, and her arms hung limp at her sides. Blood dribbled from her lips and poured down Cadan’s sword. The seconds dragged on as she lost her strength to keep her swords and they slipped back into nothingness. I scrambled away and climbed to my feet.