by Allison West
"Time is running out." Juliana's voice was soft, calm.
Leila felt the slow burn against her thigh. Death would never give up. Mara's life was still in danger. "I don't understand. I don't know what either of these mean—soul exchange or a death transfer?" It wasn't a lesson she had learned yet. She needed an explanation before she made a decision.
The dark angel nodded. "A soul exchange will allow Mara to live, but as someone else. It's safer for her. A death transfer will take someone else's life, in Mara's place."
Both options sounded horrendous. As a reaper, Leila knew the effect a soul exchange would have on Mara's life. She'd never be allowed to see her father again. She'd be outcast from her home, forced to start over someplace new. At least, Leila had the other reapers; Mara would be alone. The alternative, someone else dying, was a horrifying thought. No one should be able to control who lives and who dies.
Wynter cleared his throat and stepped toward Juliana.
"I agree to a death transfer, in exchange for Mara Dacre's life," Wynter said. He had made the decision for her.
"No!" Jasper's eyes widened. "Wynter, think about what you're doing."
"I am." Wynter didn't hesitate in the slightest. He pierced his finger with the tip of Juliana's wing. Blood pooled on the surface, leaving sacred ink on his finger. He slowly unraveled his scroll and signed his name. The dark angel leaned down, smelling the sweet scent of the scroll and the dried blood. She placed a kiss upon the mystical paper with her dark lips. The scroll sizzled and burned up in her hands. It turned to a pile of ash.
Juliana disappeared and time resumed.
The scream lodged in Mara's throat seemed to vanish as she frowned. "When did you get here?" Mara asked. With her brow furrowed, she grabbed a mug and filled it with water, handing it to Violetta. Walking toward the counter, she cut a piece of bread for the girl.
"We got lost on our way out," Jasper said.
"I can lead you all out," Mara offered. "Would anyone else like a snack before leaving?"
"No, I'm good." Sweat glistened Wynter's forehead. Perhaps he was nervous being in the presence of the princess? Although he hadn't seemed nearly as troubled when she'd first met him. However, it wouldn't be the first time Leila had seen a boy look uncomfortable under a royal's scrutiny. Her sister Mara loved that power, but Leila had always warned her to be careful with it.
"We were just leaving. Have a good evening." He walked toward the hall for the front entrance.
Violetta sipped the water and took a small bite of bread. "Thank you for your hospitality." She placed the wooden mug on the counter. "It was a lovely evening and wonderful party that your family hosted tonight—"
An ear-piercing scream ripped through the castle. Leila would recognize that voice anywhere. It was Mara's maid, Sophia.
"This way!" Mara jogged through the castle, up the back stairwell to her bedroom. Sophia lay in a pool of blood seeping from her head. Her eyes blinked; she hadn't passed completely yet.
"I thought she was you." Warner de Clare stumbled forward. Sophia had plunged a knife into his chest in her last dying moments. Blood seeped from the edge of the wound. "A Stafford won't get what should be mine."
Mara fell to the floor, cradling her dead maid in her arms. Sophia's skin turned ghastly. Her eyes remained open, staring into oblivion.
Leila stood in the hallway, watching the scene unfold. She quietly removed the scroll from her thigh, reading her newest reap, Sophia Warde. The dark angel had done as promised. It made her sick to her stomach. Leila walked into the room and bent down, gently lifting Sophia's hand to press her reaper lips to the woman's palm. Her bottom lip tingled as her heart pounded erratically in her chest. She imagined it felt strange for Sophia as she lay dying. As she reaped the young maid's soul, her fingers trembled as her mind filled with a strange haze of warmth and comfort easing her doubts. She'd been responsible in part for Sophia's death. She'd begged for Mara's life, and the dark angel had done her job, taking another living soul.
Sophia stood over her body before glancing toward the window. She followed the sparkling lights to her bliss.
Warner de Clare pulled the knife from his chest, groaning. He held it out, protecting himself as he skirted the hallway, stumbling out of the castle.
"You're going to let him escape?" Mara asked, appalled.
"The guards will be here soon," Jasper said. They couldn't wait around and detaining Warner wasn't part of the plan. "We have to go, now."
"I can't leave her." Leila didn't want to abandon her sister again. Mara needed her now, more than ever.
"King Philip will be here soon," Jasper said again.
The longer they took, the less chance they had of surviving. He'd probably blame them for Sophia's death. Leila didn't move. Staring at Mara made every bit of her ache. At least her sister was alive, but she wasn't ready to part ways and say goodbye.
"He's right," Violetta said. Heavy footfalls of boots clambered on the stone floor. The guards were rushing from the ground floor upstairs to the bedrooms. "If we don't leave now, we'll never get out of here."
Mara wiped her eyes long enough to see the hidden exit in her room. "I can get you out of here." Leila knew the way but hadn't wanted to tout it in front of her sister. Mara pushed the tapestry away to reveal a small door. "Follow the path down and to the right. You'll exit out the back of the palace. I can't help you once you're outside. You'll be on your own."
"We'll manage." Leila hugged Mara. "Thank you."
"Let's go." Wynter held the small door open and waited for everyone to get in. He stepped in last, closed the door, and didn't look back.
Chapter 22
Escaping the castle, Wynter slowed the last few steps. Every muscle inside of him ached like a deep, heavy, throbbing sensation as he balled his hands into fists. It was happening. Juliana had warned him of the consequences for interference, but he had taken it upon himself to make the decision for Leila. She was too young to know what it meant, too new to see what would become of her. Besides, was it not his job as their professor to teach and protect her?
"Come on," Leila encouraged Wynter to hurry up. Guards were searching the castle for the intruder. They needed to get as far from the palace as possible.
"I'm trying," Wynter groaned. She had not the slightest notion of the transition, the pain that radiated through his body and tore at him limb from limb.
Jasper pulled back and wrapped an arm around Wynter's waist. "I've got you." Jasper was the only one who knew what was happening, as Juliana had briefly made mention of the consequences in front of him. Wynter had heard the stories from Juliana many years earlier in an attempt to thwart his interests and remind him of his responsibilities. It had lasted for a while, until he met Leila.
"Are you hurt?" Violetta asked, glancing back over her shoulder.
"What do you consider hurt?" Wynter's face contorted. He would not show them the pain he felt. What good would it do to feel their sympathy?
"What's wrong?" Leila asked. "Tell me how to make it better."
The carriage was in the distance and with the way Wynter stumbled forward, it seemed an enormous journey to reach it.
Jasper's face was grave. "You can't. He's becoming a dark angel. Making a deal doesn't come without a price. Grim reapers can't meddle with death. When they do, there are always consequences." He seemed perturbed and for good reason; his best friend was in agony while Leila gained the benefits.
"What? A dark angel? Like that woman we met, Juliana?" Clearly, she had not the slightest hint of what was going on.
Wynter preferred it that way. Had she known, she probably wouldn't have allowed him to go through with it. "Get me to the carriage," he grunted. Breathing heavily through his mouth was the only way to keep the pain bearable.
Leila's hair had fallen down her back, the clip long forgotten in their dash out of the palace. She stared up at the night sky, transfixed. The clouds had recently parted, and a rich purple clustered the heavens. A
sea of purple shooting stars peppered the sky, and the light reflected off the water.
Briefly, Wynter glanced up, curious to see what she was transfixed by. His eyes narrowed and his face tightened in pain. He needed to get into the carriage to keep from being seen as the exchange happened.
"Leila!" Jasper struggled to get Wynter into the carriage, and Leila was falling behind.
"Don't leave her," Wynter rasped. She was always on his mind; even through the pain, he didn't wish her to get caught.
Leila lifted her heels and jogged the last few feet across the grass toward the dirt path. "Did you see that?" Leila asked, glancing over her shoulder at the night sky behind them. "In all of Casmerelda, I'd never seen such a sky so beautiful."
"Get in." Jasper helped Wynter into the back. The girls climbed into the carriage and Jasper took off, fast.
Leila kept silent. Every time she opened her mouth, she glanced at Wynter but quickly shut her lips and stared down at her hands in her lap.
The ride was thick with silence, but Wynter could hear every breath as though it had intensified in volume. Every jolt from the carriage pierced through his heart with a striking ache of defeat. He shut his eyes, tried to become one with the wind, allow the breeze and the motion of the carriage to caress instead of torture him. It did little good.
The journey was long, and in pain, it felt like knives stabbing at his back, tearing at his flesh. The carriage pulled to a halt at the asylum.
"Why are we here?" Leila peered.
"Go." Wynter waited for Violetta and Leila to climb out first. He hesitated before stepping out, his head bent down. A full set of black wings followed behind him. Leila gasped, seeing what he'd hidden from her in the shadow of the carriage.
"I'll pack your clothes and bring you everything from back at the dormitory," Jasper said.
The groundskeeper stepped out from the asylum wearing a faded pinstriped suit. His eyes were dark like two marbles that matched his thick black mop of hair. "I shall show you to your room, Wynter."
If the groundskeeper knew they were coming, then, surely, the royal council had been alerted of their insubordination. Wynter quietly stalked toward the asylum.
"Wait!" Leila chased after Wynter as he headed up the steps and inside. "There has to be another way." She followed him inside the asylum.
The groundskeeper unlocked the heavy wooden door leading to a separate room. "I am sorry, but until Wynter can control his wings, he is to be here."
Leila took a step back in hesitation. Her fingers played with the chain on her neck. Glancing down, the pendant had changed to become a sea of black with silver sparkles. Her breath caught in her throat. Stepping toward him, she leaned in on her tiptoes as she let her breath tickle his ear. "Don't go in there, Wynter. Stay with me. We're happier when we break the rules together."
How could she ask him to turn away the help he was being given? Leila didn't understand what was going on. This was for his own good, being locked up at the asylum. "I'd like to be alone." Wynter walked into the room and closed the door behind him. It creaked shut.
Chapter 23
Jasper accompanied Leila and Violetta back to the house. He slowed to a stop and helped the girls out of the carriage.
Leila stepped out, planting her feet on the grass. "I'm sorry about everything. I appreciate what you both did, trying to help me save Mara and for attending the party with me. It was fun until I got Mara's name on the scroll." The corners of her lips tugged upward. "I should go in, check on Emblyn." Someone had to give her the bad news about Wynter.
"We'll see you later." Violetta waved goodbye to Jasper. She watched as he climbed back onto the carriage and drove back to his house.
"Do you think he'll be lonely, now that Wynter's gone?" Leila asked. Wynter wasn't just his student, but also his friend.
Violetta grimaced. "I don't want to think about it."
Leila headed inside the house first. "Emblyn!" There was no answer. "Are you sleeping?" Perhaps she was out on a reap? She stormed into the girl's room, only to find it empty of her belongings. It was bare, except for the bed and dresser. "Emblyn?" She swallowed the lump forming in her throat.
Violetta watched from the hall. "What's wrong?"
"She's gone. Why would she leave?" Leila didn't understand what was going on. Was this another punishment for disobeying the rules?
Violetta sighed. "She probably was reassigned. It happens."
"You don't sound concerned." Leila was surprised. She walked into the kitchen, finding a note in Emblyn's handwriting. It wasn't the easiest thing to read with her scribble. Graduated! I have my own class in Stile. Finally get to see the ruins. Come visit me.
"She's gone." Leila pushed the note across the table. "I can't believe she left." There had been no ceremony and certainly no celebration for her graduation. It didn't feel amazing to lose a friend.
"I'm sure it wasn't by choice." Violetta plopped down on the chair at the kitchen table. "You know what's worse? Even if we wanted to visit, we can't. Death doesn't take a vacation."
"Do you think she will be lonely in Stile?" Leila asked. She had no idea what it was like when reapers were forced to move. What if her students didn't like her? Were they all new reaps, or had they been reapers for some time?
"It won't take Emblyn long to make friends." Violetta crumbled the note and walked with it toward the fireplace. She tossed the paper inside. The next time they lit the fire, Emblyn's words would be destroyed, but not forgotten.
"Do you think she knew?" Leila stood up and walked to the living room. "She didn't come with us to the party. Was she trying to spare us from having to watch her leave?"
"No one likes to say goodbye."
Chapter 24
The room lacked any sign of home. He'd traded the dormitory with Jasper for a bedroom at the asylum. A bed nestled against the wall and an empty dresser rested against the opposite wall near the window. There were no signs of life or that anyone had ever inhabited the space. The walls were plain, painted gray over the brick.
Every bit of him ached. His heart, his back, his lungs. As a reaper, he'd known, in some ways, he was still alive. He needed air just as a human, or he'd die. He had no idea what to expect as a dark angel.
His hands trembled, and his feet felt heavy. He stumbled onto the bed and lay on his stomach. His wings spread out; his scream pierced through the room.
What had he done?
The groundskeeper knocked and walked into the small room, not bothering with pleasantries. "We need to talk."
Wynter turned his head to meet the older man's intense gaze. "I screwed up." He'd done it out of love, but he'd be cursed as a dark angel for eternity.
The groundskeeper sighed and shut the door behind him. He walked toward the bed and took a seat at the edge. "Someone had to intervene to save Mara. You did the right thing, even if you must face the consequences of your actions."
Wynter raised an eyebrow surprised that the groundskeeper wasn't scolding him for his actions. He'd made a lot of mistakes through the years, but most consisted of getting yelled at and punished in some small way. This wasn't a small punishment, by any means.
"Consider this a new adventure, Wynter. It doesn't have to be hell for you."
"I'm here, in the asylum." What else would describe his current living conditions? Maybe there wasn't fire and brimstone, but being forced to live in a room at the asylum for the rest of his life was his own personal hell.
The groundskeeper nodded, acknowledging Wynter's concerns. "Yes, but with time and experience, you will be able to leave. Your wings aren't something to be ashamed of, but humans won't take well to seeing them."
Wynter sat up in bed, pushing his legs over the edge, sitting beside the groundskeeper. He nearly smacked the older dark-haired gentleman in the head with his wings. "I can't exactly hide them. Let alone control them!" It was frustrating and painful, physically.
The groundskeeper rested a hand on the young dark angel's shoulder.
Wynter's shirt was torn, ripped, and bloodstained from the wings protruding out the back of the garment. "It gets easier. We'll get you some new clothes and a coat that will conceal your wings from humans."
"I can't hide forever."
"You'd be surprised." The groundskeeper offered a faint smile. "It's customary for the dark angel who makes the deal to help mentor you, but Juliana isn't always the easiest to get along with."
That caught Wynter by surprise. "You know Juliana?"
"I'll help you, Wynter, in any way that I can. You won't be alone, and with time, you can return to live with Jasper, if you choose, or with your kind."
Chapter 25
Leila slept most of the day. They'd gotten to the house just after the sun came up. When she woke, she changed and grabbed a bite to eat in the kitchen. Violetta was still sound asleep. She needed to see Wynter and make sure he was all right. Leila grabbed her coat and scarf, knowing the air outside was chilly. Walking around back, she mounted her horse and rode toward the asylum. As a grim reaper, she had learned to no longer fear death, but she was still frightened of a lot of things, including the asylum. Wynter was the only reason she was visiting. She wondered how he felt, being forced to live there. Why hadn't he fought the groundskeeper and opted to stay with Jasper instead?
Securing the horse outside, Leila pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. Her scroll hadn't given her the next assignment yet. Until it did, she could spend the rest of the afternoon with Wynter. Hopefully, he wanted to see her.
The smell of the asylum made her gag. It reeked of mold and rotten eggs. She held her breath and knocked on the door. "Wynter. It's Leila. Let me in."
"Go away." His voice was gruff, his tone sharp. It seemed he did not want company.
"Come on. It stinks out here. Please." She wasn't opposed to begging right now. As long as the smell wasn't permeating his room, she'd be fine. Wynter unlocked the door and nudged it open a few inches. Leila didn't wait a moment longer than necessary. She darted into his room and slammed the door shut behind her. "It smells awful out there." She inhaled a huge breath of oxygen and felt it tickle her nose. At least the smell was pleasant, like Wynter—almonds and milk. She stared at him and gasped. He was shirtless, muscular. His back had fresh scars from the wings breaking through his flesh.