Eli sat perched on the brick wall alongside the house. He wore his usual black hoodie, black jeans, and combat boots.
“I see you went for the angel of death.”
I squeezed my eyes shut—wanting to tell him—but the words stuck in my throat.
Eli hesitantly jumped down from the wall, as if afraid to spook a frightened animal. “Lyra, are you okay?”
I looked down at my ruined dress and ran a hand over the front, trying to smooth out the wrinkles.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I forced a smile.
He pulled a pack of smokes from his pocket, placing one between his lips as he took a seat next to me. The lighter in his right hand sparked to life as he shielded the flame from the wind.
“Those will send you to an early grave.” I shook my head in disapproval.
He exhaled, blowing a lingering trail of smoke between us. “That’s the plan.”
He passed me his cigarette and shrugged off his black hoodie. “Here, before you freeze your ass off. I’ll never understand how girls wear literally no clothing when it’s colder than Jack Frost’s balls outside.”
“To impress you assholes.”
I didn’t hesitate at the offer. Warmth instantly engulfed me as I pulled it over my head. His sweatshirt smelled of smoke and coffee—the only things keeping him alive. The dark circles under his eyes were evidence that he wasn’t sleeping any better these days.
The hoodie fell past my dress, hitting me mid-thigh and completely hiding the blood and tattered mess beneath.
“How’ve you been?” I asked, pulling at the hood of the sweatshirt to untangle it without strangling myself in the process.
“Fine,” Eli muttered without elaborating. He was a man of few words until you talked about things that interested him. Then you couldn’t shut him the hell up. His morbid curiosity with death was the main reason we had become friends. A friendship forged in the macabre.
I stared into the pitch-black darkness, waiting for Grey to re-emerge. Or for something worse to happen. The uneasy feeling in my stomach grew worse by the second.
Eli’s shadows brushed against my hand as we passed the shrinking cigarette back and forth.
“Sorry.” He jerked his tattooed hand away. His shadows mixed with the cigarette smoke and dissipated into the night air. There one second and gone the next.
Eli had trouble controlling his powers when he was younger and started wearing hoodies to help conceal his shadows. Even now he wore them almost every day, no matter the season.
“Have you guys been sitting out here all night?” Cal’s voice bellowed from the doorway, breaking the silence.
“Yeah.” Eli said, without further explanation and zero remorse for missing a majority of the party.
“Well, Kenna sent me out here to corral you two antisocial besties for cake.”
I shot to my feet, hauling Eli’s bony ass up with me at the mention of cake.
“All right, we’re coming,” Eli muttered, stomping out his cigarette. But he made no effort to move.
“Here,” Cal handed me his drink and pushed open the front door, ushering us inside. “Move it.”
“Hey!” Cal protested as I downed the contents of his cup, welcoming the burn as it slid down my throat. I was desperate to take the edge off after the events of the night.
“I’ll get you a refill.” I said, leading the way inside.
I slowed, straining to hear the earsplitting cries of the wraith, but heard nothing.
“The cake is this way.” Cal steered me toward the kitchen and away from the horrors of the basement.
CHAPTER 6
