Dead Girl Walking (12 page)

Leila stepped forward, to protect her sister. “What just happened?” Leila glanced at Wynter for an explanation. Mara appeared frozen, unable to move. However, the rest of the group was unaffected.

“She'll be fine after you've made your decision. You have a choice,” Juliana, the dark angel, said to Leila. “A soul exchange or death transfer.”

“I don't know what that means.” Leila glanced at Wynter, hoping he could explain what was going on right now. Did they still need the dark angel? Mara was alive. Her soul hadn't needed to be taken because she'd missed her appointment of her own free will.

“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?” 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 had brought Juliana here for Leila. If he hadn’t agreed to her terms, there’d have been no point at all. Every day he thought about his sister, Hannah. Her bright blue eyes and vibrant smile. Hannah’s laughter had always made his worries disappear. Wynter would give up his existence to see her again, but it wasn’t an option. He could save Leila from the same pain though.

Wynter cleared his throat and stepped toward Juliana. He knew what needed to be done. Although he wasn’t pleased with it, there were worse things that could happen to him.

“I agree to a death transfer, in exchange for Mara Dacre's life,” Wynter said.

“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 vanished, as did the memory of the dark angel she'd witnessed. Something felt strange, but she couldn’t place the odd sensation. It was late, so she excused her weird response on tiredness.

“When did you get here?” Mara asked, seeing Wynter and another strange boy standing in the kitchen. 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.” The mysterious boy smiled politely.

“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 she’d seen a boy look uncomfortable under her scrutiny. Mara loved that power, but her sister 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 a 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 running her palm over Sophia's arm. Her fingers tingled, and she imagined it felt strange for Sophia as she was dying. As she reaped the young maid’s soul, her fingers trembled with guilt. 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. Leila imagined that this would haunt her dreams for many nights to come.

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 want 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 castle. 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.

Changes

Chapter 8

Escaping the castle, Wynter slowed the last few steps. “Come on.” Leila's heart raced as she encouraged Wynter to hurry up. Guards were searching the castle for the intruder. They needed to get as far from the castle as possible. Leila hoped King Philip and the guards would listen to Mara, that Warner de Clare had been the murderer.

“I'm trying,” Wynter groaned.

Jasper pulled back and wrapped an arm around Wynter's waist. “You're not hurt, are you?”

“What do you consider hurt?” Wynter's face contorted.

“What's wrong?” Leila asked, her pulse quickened and her palms began to sweat.

Violetta's face was grave. “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.”

“What?” Leila couldn't believe what she was hearing. “A dark angel? Like that woman we met, Juliana?”

“Get me to the carriage,” Wynter grunted.

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 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. She'd never seen anything quite like the display tonight.

“Leila!” Jasper struggled to get Wynter into the carriage, and Leila was falling behind.

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, she’d never seen 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, wanting to know how he was doing. She didn't have the courage to ask. She shut her lips and stared down at her hands in her lap. She'd caused this, because she didn't want her sister to die.

The ride was thick with silence. This had been her fault. Arriving at the asylum, Edon stood outside the grounds.

“We're here,” Jasper said. No one ever liked visiting the asylum. Leila wanted to ask why they'd chosen to visit Edon but it wasn't a question worth asking. Besides, Edon seemed to know everything.

“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 need you to pack Wynter's things and bring them to me,” Edon said to Jasper. “Then return this wretched piece of garbage to its rightful owner.” He pointed to the carriage. “We're not royal. Return it.”

“They're dead, sir,” Jasper said.

Edon rolled his eyes. “I'm sure they have family who would want it. We're not scavengers of the dead.”

“Yes, sir.”

Edon walked over to Wynter. “Let me show you to your room.”

“Wait!” Leila chased after Edon and Wynter. “There has to be another way.” She followed them inside the asylum. It was the last place Leila wanted to visit but she knew Wynter well enough to know he wouldn't want to live here. There had to be something she could do to fix this mess.

“If there was, don't you think I'd have thought of it? Do you think I enjoyed watching my family, friends, and city be buried in Stile? Would I have done anything possible to save them? Of course! We don't get to make those choices. Not without serious consequences, which Wynter is experiencing right now.” Edon unlocked the heavy wooden door.

Leila took a step back in hesitation. Her fingers played with the chain on her neck. Glancing down, she saw the pendant was a sea of black with silver sparkles. Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to tell Wynter not to go in, not to listen. He was happier when he was breaking the rules. They were happier.

“I'd like to be alone.” Wynter walked into the room and closed the door behind him. It creaked shut.

The room lacked any sign of home. He’d traded the house 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.

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?

Edon knocked and walked into the small room, not bothering with pleasantries. “We need to talk.”

Wynter turned his head to meet Edon’s intense gaze. “I screwed up.” He’d done it out of love, but he’d be cursed as a dark angel for eternity.

Edon 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.”

Wynter raised an eyebrow surprised that Edon 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.” Edon had always been his mentor.

“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.

Edon 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 Edon. He nearly smacked Edon in the head with his wings, and the older man ducked. “I can’t exactly hide them. Let alone control them!” It was frustrating and painful, physically.

Edon rested a hand on the young dark angel’s shoulder. Wynter’s shirt was torn, ripped, and blood-stained 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.” Edon 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?”

Edon didn’t answer the question. “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.”

Jasper accompanied Leila and Violetta back to the house. He slowed the carriage to a stop and helped the girls step out.

“Are you really going to get rid of the carriage?” Violetta asked. “It's better than riding a horse.”

Jasper sighed. “I don't want to, and the man I borrowed it from is dead.” Jasper locked eyes with Violetta. “They won't miss it. Promise me you won't say anything to Edon. I can hide it for a few months until things settle down.”