Dead Girl Walking (13 page)

“You know I can keep a secret.” Violetta smiled.

Jasper grinned. “Yeah, I know.”

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 roommate, 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?” 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 laws of the reapers?

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.
New assignment 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.”

“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. Did they get to live with other reapers in new cities? Were they forced to live in an asylum like Wynter? Her stomach flopped just thinking about it.

“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.”

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.

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.

“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. He was shirtless, muscular. His back had fresh scars from the wings breaking through his flesh.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was short, his temper quick.

“I'm visiting you.” Leila stared at him, curious about the changes. She reached out to touch his wings, her fingers barely brushing the black feathers before he pulled back, as though her touch were fire and burned him.

“Don't.”

“Sorry.” Her eyes shifted down to the floor. Was he embarrassed about his wings, the changes that happened to him? She cleared her throat and glanced up to meet his stare. “I'm not afraid, Wynter. I think you're beautiful.”

“Yes, because that's what a guy loves to be called.”

She walked the length of his room before plopping down on the edge of his mattress. “This sucks. Everything about it.” Leila didn't want him in the asylum, and she knew he didn't want to be there. “Why are you here?” Aside from the obvious change—the giant wings that didn't seem to be going away—she couldn't fathom why he wasn't back at the house. Couldn't he hide at home?

“Are you blind?” His temper and frustration forced his wings to expand the full length of the small room. He took a few deep breaths. As he gathered air into his lungs, his wings lowered before tucking themselves back against him. “It takes some getting used to. Once I master it, I'll be able to return home.”

“So, what are you supposed to do here all day?” Leila glanced around his room. It was dark, except for a filth-covered window. It didn't allow a lot of light in.

“Edon was going to bring me some texts. He wants me to brush up on dark angel history. Then, I learn about my responsibilities, which is to say I get to intervene, whereas you reapers don't.”

“That sounds nice.” It was better than not being able to stop death from happening. Leila was trying her best to lighten the tension and break Wynter’s sullen mood. It wasn't as though either of them loved being a reaper. “What happened to the dark angel you asked for help? The one who took Sophia's life in exchange for Mara's?” Had Juliana been cast out of wherever she lived? Leila didn't know what was going on. Had Wynter taken her place? Had the dark angel been like a genie in a magical lamp, trapped until Wynter had set her free, only to find himself trapped in her place?

“Edon mentioned that she's been given a promotion. Whatever that means.” He sighed and took a seat on the bed beside Leila. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how you were.” Leila rested a hand on his arm. “I was worried about you.” The asylum frightened her, and to think that Wynter had to stay there because of what he'd become made her feel guilty too.

“I'll be fine.”

Leila removed her hand from his arm and placed it back in her lap. “I'm sure you will.” Silence filled the room. She didn't know what to say, or how to make it right. “Can I ask you something, personal?”

“I have a feeling if I say no, you'll still ask me.”

Leila laughed and rolled her eyes. “Probably. I wanted to know how you died. What made you decide to become a grim reaper? In my case, I wanted to know who killed me, but you know how you died. There was no mystery involved.”

“I wanted revenge. Not initially, but I wasn't ready to rest, at least my soul wasn't ready.” Wynter stared at her and tilted his head slightly to the side. “Does that bother you?”

“No.” She didn't see why it would bother her. “You had a horrific death, Wynter. I can understand how you weren't ready to let go of this life.”

“What about the fact I murdered two men?”

“Murdered is a strong word, Wynter. Tell me what happened.” Leila knew he wasn't a bad guy, even if he did bend the rules. She wasn't all that different from him.

“Two men attacked my sister, Hannah, on the way back from the market.”

“So, you killed them in retaliation?” Leila stared at his face, noticed the frown across his jaw line and reached out to stroke the rough stubble along his cheek.

“Not quite.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I went to the brothers’ home and demanded a public apology. Others in Wisteria needed to know that these men were monsters, and their wives and daughters needed protecting.”

“What happened?” Leila asked.

“Well, they weren’t going to apologize. They called me names, spit on me, and then there was a scuffle. I was forced to defend myself. I didn’t want to kill either of them, but I had no choice. It turned out they were the sons of the archduke. So, I was convicted of murder and treason against my country.” Wynter frowned, his brow furrowed. “Even worse, after my death, I wasn’t there to protect Hannah. She was attacked by the archduke and beaten to death. Angry, I returned to the village and sought retribution. If I hadn’t died and if I’d done a better job of protecting her, she’d still be alive.”

“You can’t think that, Wynter. You’re not responsible for her death.” Leila reached for Wynter, throwing her arms around him. His wings expanded as his emotions ripped through him. It was all too familiar a feeling for Leila. It reminded her of King Philip ordering Larkin's execution.

“She didn't deserve to die.”

No amount of time would ever completely heal old scars. Leila knew that with Larkin. A part of her wished she hadn't brought it up, asked Wynter about his death, but another part of her was grateful he shared his pain with her. Leila leaned closer, brushing her soft lips against his cheek. “I'm glad you became a reaper, even if you were out for revenge.”

Wynter shifted along the mattress, leaning forward, pushing his forehead against hers. “I'm sorry you had to become a reaper, but I'm glad I have the chance to know you.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers.

Her bottom lip trembled against his mouth, Leila’s nerves getting the better of her.
Wynter is kissing me.
She couldn’t stop her racing thoughts.
His lips are on mine.
Her heart pounded and her fingers trembled. Wynter’s thumb stroked her jaw, soothing her nerves.

She gave him her strength and warmth, wanting to keep him from unraveling. Reluctantly, Leila pulled back. Her fingers traced a path down his arm, until she reached his hand. “Did you hear about Emblyn?” She had to tell him if he hadn't heard it from Edon already.

“No. What about her?”

Thinking about it hurt. She gnawed on her bottom lip anxiously. “We got back to the house and she was gone. She left a note that she'd been reassigned to Stile. I get the feeling she's not coming back.”

“She probably won't.” He sighed, thinking it over. “The Great Plague was bad here for a while. It may have spread. It's possible they need more help.”

“If that's the case, wouldn't we all have been asked to help?” She didn't understand why Emblyn hadn't told them she was leaving and hadn't said goodbye. She snuck out in the middle of the night.

“Maybe, but Emblyn is the only one who didn't break the rules.” Wynter moved back against the bed to lie down on his side, avoiding his wings.

“What do you think happens now?” Leila wanted to know if a new reaper would take Emblyn's place.

“We could get a transfer, or a new reaper. Edon will let you know before anyone comes knocking on your door wanting to live with you.”

Leila's scroll sizzled against her skin. There was no escaping death, not even for the undead. She removed the scroll from around her thigh and unrolled the paper.

Wynter read the assignment over her shoulder. “You need to go,
now!”

Leila read the name on the scroll,
Yvan Pradka
. It didn't mean anything to her, but the location did; it was Leila's home. Leila stood. “I promise I'll return.”

“Don't. This place will rot your soul.”

Leila rolled her eyes and ignored him. She secured the scroll back against her thigh and rushed out of the asylum. Although she didn't know who Yvan Pradka was or what he would be doing at her home, Violetta was probably inside. Violetta's name wasn’t on the scroll at least, but then again she was already undead. Could she somehow die again? Leila didn't wait around to find out. She mounted her horse and rode quickly toward home.

The sky grew dark. Night was fast approaching. Time wasn't on Leila's side. Afraid of the consequences for being late and her concern for Violetta, Leila rode harder.

Approaching the house, Leila jumped off the horse not taking time to tie her to the fence post and ran to the front door, it was ajar. Pushing the door open, Leila first noticed the table was knocked over and Violetta was on the floor. She didn't move. “Jasper?” Leila was surprised to see him in the house. He held a candlestick up in his right hand as a weapon. Leila reached out, touching the stranger, Yvan, along his arm. “Hope you go to Hell,” Leila whispered under her breath.

“Warner sends his regards.” Yvan gripped Leila's arm and threw her into the wall.

Jasper swung the candlestick, slamming Yvan in the head and disorienting him. Unsteady on his feet, Yvan smacked the edge of his head on the kitchen counter, plummeting to the floor with a puddle of blood.

Leila groaned in protest. She was sore, and if Yvan wasn't dead already, she would have finished the job early. “I am not cleaning that up.” Leila pointed at the dead man lying between her living room and kitchen. She pushed herself up off the floor and stood unsteadily on her feet.

“What happened?” Yvan stood beside Leila, staring at his lifeless body on the floor. He was in shock. “Am I dead?” He choked on his words.

Leila didn't want to help his soul, or what was left of Yvan Pradka. She did, however, want to know about Warner de Clare's relation to the man. After all, what he'd said earlier had stuck in her head. “You'll be a ghost for as long as I say,” Leila threatened him.

Yvan reached out to attack Leila, only to find his hands dematerialized through her body. She was right, he was a ghost. “I'm really dead?” He couldn't believe what had ended his life—the edge of the kitchen counter.

“You help us,” Jasper said, “or we go after your family.”

Leila didn't know if it was an empty threat or not. Apparently, Yvan didn't know either. “Warner saw Mara sneaking out with you two girls last night. He insisted we follow her. He didn't like that you were asking questions at the tavern and was concerned someone might have seen something the night Princess Ophelia was murdered. He ordered us to follow you home. He wanted us to clean up any loose ends. The new moon helped hide us in the forest. We followed you first to an old mansion before you went home.”