Several things happened all at once.
Stacey shot toward the Lilin, her hand rising as if she was about to knock the mocking smile off his face. The Lilin drifted toward her, and while it hadn’t taken her soul yet for whatever reason, I now knew there were no guarantees. The Lilin was unpredictable. It had exposed what it truly was, and I sensed it was done playing around. It was within arms’ reach of her and I—well, I sort of lost it. Rage lit me up from the inside.
The change came over me without even trying. Like shedding a sweater, I let go of the human form I’d worn for so long, and in a way, had desperately clung to. It had never been this easy before. Bones didn’t break and reknit. Skin didn’t stretch, but I felt mine harden, become resilient to most knives and bullets. The roof of my mouth tingled as my fangs dropped, teeth designed to cut through even a Warden’s skin, and most definitely a Lilin’s. Just below the base of my neck and on either side of my spine, my wings broke free and unfurled.
There was a sharp inhale from someone in the room, but I wasn’t paying attention.
Moving as quick as a cobra striking, I grabbed Stacey’s arm and shoved her behind me. I got between her and the Lilin. “I said, do not touch her. Do not look at her. Do not even breathe in her direction. You do so, and I will rip your head from your shoulders and punt-kick it out a window.”
The Lilin jerked, dancing a step backward. Its pitch-black eyes widened. Shock splashed across its face and then its lips curled back. “That’s not playing fair.”
What in the world? Was that fear I saw in its face? “Do I look like I care?”
“Oh, you’re going to.” The Lilin backtracked, moving toward the door. “You’re so going to care.”
Then the Lilin was gone, spinning right around and exiting the house with a quickness that left me standing there, staring foolishly at the empty doorway. I didn’t understand. The Lilin hadn’t batted an eyelash at Zayne or Roth, but I’d shifted forms and it had tucked its tail and run away?
Uh.
“Well, that was...anticlimactic.” I turned around slowly, tucking my wings back. The first one I saw was Zayne.
He’d returned to his human form. Zayne always, even when he appeared exhausted, could’ve stepped out of a Town and Country magazine. His good looks went beyond all-American and straight into swoonville, population every girl on the planet. He looked like I imagined angels would. Vibrant blue eyes and near-heavenly features, but he stared at me with his mouth hanging slightly open. His absolutely gorgeous face was pale, which made the unforgiving shadows under his eyes stand out starkly. He stared at me like he’d never seen me before, which was bizarre, because he’d grown up with me. I felt like some kind of specimen.
A trickle of unease ran down my spine as my gaze switched to the couch. At some point, Zayne had moved closer to where Stacey had landed. I expected to find her rocking in a ball, but she too gaped at me, her hands pressed against her cheeks, and any other time I would’ve laughed at that expression. Not now.
My heart rate kicked into overdrive as I swung toward the back of the room, where Roth was standing. My gaze collided with eyes the color of amber. His were wide, his pupils vertical. Even so, he was a sight to behold.
Roth was—well, there was no one that walked this earth that looked quite like him. Probably had to do with the fact that he was in no way human, but he was stunning. Always had been, even when he’d styled the black hair into spikes. I preferred the lesser look he rocked now with his hair falling over his forehead, brushing the tips of his ears and the arches of equally dark eyebrows. Golden eyes were slightly slanted at the outer corners. He had cheekbones and a jaw you could cut glass with, a face any artist would die to sketch—or touch. And those full, expressive lips were parted.
His tawny skin wasn’t pale and he didn’t gape at me like I belonged under a microscope, but he was watching me in astonishment just as Zayne had.
The unease turned into balls of dread, settling heavily in my stomach. “What?” I whispered, glancing around the room. “Why are you all staring at me like...like there’s something wrong with me?”
It couldn’t have been because I’d told the Lilin I’d rip his head off. Yeah, I was a little less violent on most days, but in the past week or so, I’d thought I was the Lilin, had been kissed by Zayne and nearly took his soul, was subsequently chained and held in captivity by the very clan that had raised me, was almost killed by that same clan—deep breath—was then healed thanks to Roth and a mystery brew provided by a coven of witches who worshipped Lilith, and now I’d just discovered that my best friend was dead, his soul was in Hell, and the Lilin had taken his place. You’d think a girl could be cut a little slack.
Roth cleared his throat. “Shortie, look...look at your hand.”
Look at my hand? Why in the world would he be asking me to do that in the midst of all the cray?
“Do it,” he said quietly and too gently.
The dread exploded in my gut like buckshot, and my gaze dropped to my left hand. I expected to see the weird marbling of black and gray, a mixture of the demon and Warden that existed inside of me and a combination I’d become almost familiar with by now. My nails had lengthened and sharpened, and I could tell they were hard enough to cut through steel, as hard as my skin, but my skin...it was still pink. Really pink.
“What the...?” My gaze traveled to my other hand. It was the same. Just pink. My wings twitched, reminding me that I had shifted.
Zayne swallowed. “Your...your wings...”
“What about my wings?” I almost screeched, reaching behind me. “Are they broken? Did they not come out—” The tips of my fingers came into contact with something as soft as silk. My hand jerked back. “What...”
Stacey’s watery eyes had doubled in size. “Um, Layla, there’s a mirror above the fireplace. I think you need to look in it.”
I met Roth’s gaze for a second before I spun around and all but ran to the fireplace I was sure Stacey’s mom had never used. Clutching the white mantel, I stared at my reflection.
I looked normal, like I did before I shifted...like I was going to class or something. My eyes were the palest shade of gray, a watered-down blue. My hair was so blond it was almost white, and a mess of waves that went in every direction like usual. I looked like a colorless china doll, which was nothing new, except for the two fangs jutting out of my mouth. I wouldn’t show them off at school, but that wasn’t what caught my attention and held it.
It was my wings.
They were large, not as massive as Zayne’s or Roth’s, and normally they were almost leathery in texture, but now they were black...black and feathered. Like legit feathered. That soft, silky thing I’d felt? It had been tiny feathers.
Feathers.
“Oh my God,” I whispered at my reflection. “I have feathers.”
“Those are definitely feathered wings,” Roth commented.
I whipped around, knocking over a lamp with my feathered right wing. “I have feathers on my wings!”
Roth cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, you do.”
He was absolutely no help, so I turned to Zayne. “Why do I have feathers on my wings?”
Zayne shook his head slowly. “I don’t know, Layla. I’ve never seen anything like this.”