Page 55 of Wings of Torment
Fuck. She always likes to know everything, doesn’t she? I let out a sigh, stopping to turn in her direction. “There are several, but there’s only one close to the Fallen district.”
Instead of responding, she only watches me, her gaze roaming over my face like she’s trying to figure me out. She always sees way too fucking much.
To my surprise, she doesn’t question me further on it, only nods and continues the brisk walk.
“What should we do with that blade?”
“I’ve been asking myself that since we left. Part of me feels like I should give it to the Guild right away, along with Roderick’s name, but …”
“The mole,” she finishes for me. Sometimes we’re so in sync that it terrifies me. Like we share the same mind. Is our bond as strong as the one she has with Raphael? The one I’ve been doing my best not to think about since learning how deep theirs is and seeing it in action during the attack at SCU. Fuck.
“Exactly. I don’t think it’s wise to carry this deadly thing around, but I don’t want it getting back into their hands. Without knowing who to trust, I can’t just hand it over, you know?”
“I know,” she says, reaching out to entwine her fingers with mine. “We’ll hold on to it for now and see how things play out with Azrael and the body. Maybe we’ll learn something about who’s on our side and who isn’t.”
Her skin is soft and warm, soothing the turmoil raging inside me. She’s right, of course. Depending on the information that spreads about my tip-off to Azrael, it’ll help us determine who our allies are. And something tells me we’re going to need as many as we can get.
“If you want to leave, I can cover with my parents. I know this wasn’t exactly what you signed up for.” She laughs, but her heart isn’t in it. And after what we’ve just gone through, I don’t think it’s good for her to be alone yet.
“No. That would only make them suspicious, I think. Besides, I want to stay. Your mother promised me a look through that baby book, remember?”
This time when she laughs, her eyes sparkle and dance with genuine amusement. Good. This is what she needs to help move past what happened last night and today with Roderick.
“Do you need any more frosting?” Maribella asks.
“I think we’re good, Mom,” Hayliel replies, laughing. “Though I think I messed this one up, so Zeke and I should probably eat it, right? Wouldn’t do to give such an awfully decorated cookie to the Archangels, now would it?”
“Ha!” Camael sits down at the table across from us. “Well played, daughter of mine. I think I’ll be messing up my next one, too.”
Since arriving back at the house, Hayliel’s parents have kept us busy preparing offerings for the Archangels. I’ve also learned more about Hayliel in these few hours than I ever thought to. Her old school, and the bullies there. It’s no wonder she kept her wings a secret when we first met. I wish I’d have known that earlier. Maybe things could have been different.
Their family traditions cause a dark hole to open in my chest. If Mom was still alive, would we have made a big deal out of this feast thing too? I don’t really remember what we did before she passed, and after she died, Dad and I were just so fucking broken. Me for losing a mother, and him for losing the love of his life.
“This is the last batch, and then we’ll have everything ready for our offering,” Maribella says, taking a seat beside Camael, who’s munching on a cookie.
“You ever play crokinole, Zeke?”
“Hmm, I don’t think so. Is that even a real word?”
“What?” Hayliel adds, putting the finishing touches on her cookie. The depth and dimension she adds to the Archangel wings just from frosting blows my goddamn mind. “Really?”
“Really. What is it? A card game?”
All three members of the Gracelin family suck in a breath. Uh-oh.
“Code red,” Camael whispers, and if I hadn’t caught the smile tilting the corner of Hayliel’s mouth, I might have been worried.
“Zeke, let’s go wash up, and then I’ll explain the rules while we put everything together in the backyard. My parents can finish here.”
I chuckle. “Why do I have a feeling that I’m not at all prepared for crokinole?”
We wash our hands in silence, each of us watching the other in the mirror as we wipe away the frosting and cookie crumbs. We’ve come a long way since our excursion this morning. From holding a criminal hostage to decorating cookies, and now I’m about to play a game with my pretend girlfriend’s family. It’s surreal.
Hayliel asks me to set up the table and chairs on the deck while she grabs the game board and pieces. The evening air is chilly, so I start a fire in the pit near the table. When I’m finished, I glance toward Hayliel, and all the air in my lungs freezes. Draped across her delicate shoulders is my jacket. The one I placed on her shoulders in the library all those weeks ago. Does she know it’s mine?
Before I spiral down that path, Hayliel motions me over and gives me a rundown of the rules. It seems simple, in theory. Flick the little disc and try to get it in the center hole or as close to it as I can. Of course, there are other rules. If the other team’s disc is in play, then mine has to hit theirs for it to be a valid move. Easy, peasy.
Except it’s fuckinghard. I’ve only just managed to get the right pressure in my flick not to shoot the disc straight to the other side of the board, so I’ve mostly been on defense while my partner, Maribella, gets us points.
