Death Collectors: Ember Part 21

"Cameron," I say with caution, looking at the wall. "You didn't happen to see a black car with really tinted windows up at the lake, did you?"

His fingers discover my collarbone and he traces gentle circles over my skin. "No, why? Did something happen with this car?"

A soundless sensation numbs my mind and I feel myself falling to him. But I shake my head and sigh through it. "I should get going. "

His fingers travel down the front of my body as I turn to leave and he hitches the bottom of my s.h.i.+rt. "You can stay here, if you want. You can sleep in my bed." He raises his hand innocently. "I promise not to touch you, unless you ask."

"Is that the same thing you told Mackenzie?"

"Mackenzie and I are just friends. But I like that you care."

I dither back and forth between him and the door.

"Come on, Ember," he coaxes in that voice that's hard to resist. "Please stay."

I force my willpower to my legs and back away for the door. "I'm sorry, Cameron, but I think you're a little too much for me."

"That's what all the girls say," he jokes, but there is a vast sea of pain in his eyes. He sighs. "Hold on. I'll walk you to the door."

Chapter 18.

When I was thirteen, my mom locked me in the attic for an entire day because she believed I killed several of her house plants. It really wasn't that big of a deal, only she didn't let me have anything to drink or eat and there were no bathroom breaks permitted. I walked out of the situation without being too traumatized.

The only thing that bothered me was her belief that I killed the plants on purpose. At the time, it seemed ridiculous; the idea a person could dry out houseplants in less than five minutes. But now I wonder if perhaps I did do it. And if my mom has always known there was something different about me.

I wake up on the couch, with my legs flopped over the back and my head hanging upside down. It's late in the afternoon, the sky tinted a pale pink. Children are laughing outside and someone is throttling a motorcycle.

I lie motionless, with a splitting headache, trying to fall back asleep, not ready to face the day, or find out what Ian's been doing in his studio all night. I heard someone sneak in late last night, but I didn't care enough to go see who. There were m.u.f.fled voices on the stairway and then footsteps headed into the attic.

Without changing position, I reach for the remote on the coffee table. The front door swings open and someone comes whisking into the house. Their high heels click against the floor. "What the h.e.l.l happened?" Raven asks. "Why was there an ambulance here yesterday?"

She looks strange upside down, dressed up as an angel with white-feather wings and a silvery-satin dress. Her hair is curled and wound with white ribbon to form a halo on the top of her head.

I sit up and rub my eyes. "Because my mom flipped out and tried to slit her wrists." The words tumble out.

"Ember..." She doesn't have a clue how to react to my honesty. "What can I do to help?"

I drag my b.u.t.t off the sofa and her glitter-framed eyes widen at the blood all over my s.h.i.+rt. "You can let me go to sleep for a really, really long time. That's all I want to do is sleep."

She gasps. "Why is there dried blood all over you?"

"Because my mom stabbed me with a pair of scissors," I confess.

She pries open the gap in my s.h.i.+rt where the scissors had violently entered. "Em, that's not funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny," I tell her. "She stabbed me with the scissors and then I almost killed her by sucking the life out of her to heal myself."

"You're in shock." She pulls her hands away. "Or did you hit your head?"

"Nothing's wrong with me." I push past her. "I'm going to go up to bed to get some rest. Maybe I'll sleep for an eternity."

She seizes the back of my s.h.i.+rt. "No, you're not. You're going to go to this party and have some fun. Depression runs in your family. And I will not let you sink into that dark hole."

I spin on my heels. "My mom is locked up on suicide watch and I found out that my death omen curse stretches farther than I originally thought. I sucked my mom's life away to help myself survive. I'm not going to a stupid Halloween party."

"You are not going up to your room to write sad poetry about death and pain," she insists. "Your mom's pulled a similar stunt before, when she locked you up in the attic for an entire day after she thought you purposefully killed all the plants."

"No, that was different-she actually killed me this time," I say. But was it her or the Grim Reaper? It seemed like she could hear him and see him.

"I don't care what she did," Raven says with a bossy att.i.tude. "You're going."

"Have you lost your mind?" I annunciate each word. "My. Mom. Tried. To. Kill. Me."

"Are you sure?" She twists the silver chain of her necklace. "Maybe you should think about it really hard."

"I..." I stare at her, watching her eye twitch. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing." She rubs the corner of her eye like she has something stuck in it. "I just think you should go out and have some fun for once."

"I think you should go," Ian intrudes from the bottom of the staircase. He's dressed in jeans and a white T-s.h.i.+rt with red paint smeared on it, along with his face and arms. "In fact, I'll drop you off on my way to my own party."

"You've both lost your minds." I head for the stairs, but he blocks my path. "Move out of my way, Ian. Please."

He shakes his head. "I'm not going to leave you are here by yourself after what just happened. Mom will be fine-you'll be fine. In fact, I got a call from the hospital this morning and they said she's doing really well. Her wounds are healing really quickly and the meds have stabilized her mood. We should be able to see her tomorrow."

I thrum my fingers on the sides of my legs. "I'm still not going."

"Yes, you are," Raven insists.

I shake my head. "I always go with you to every party you've ever asked me to, but not this time."

Ian gently shoves me toward the stairway. "Quit being a baby, go get a d.a.m.n costume on, and go have some fun for one flippin' night in your life."

"Asher will be there," Raven entices with a waggle of her eyebrows. "He texted me and said to make sure you were still coming, because you wouldn't answer your phone."

Asher. The Anamotti. The X on my mom's head. It all rushes back to me.

"Okay, I think I-"

Suddenly the Grim Reaper materializes behind Ian. His head is tipped down as he rises up to the ceiling. He elevates his hand to his face and the sleeve slips down his arm, revealing his human hand.

"He's human," I whisper, unable to move.

He puts his finger to his lips. "Shhh... There's no need to be afraid. The answers are in me," he purrs mellifluously and the sound of his voice is enthralling. "Come with me, Ember. I'm begging you. Never look the other way."

My mind starts to melt to his request, but the touch of Raven's hand on my arm pulls me back.

"Em, get it together," she commands.

I blink the feeling away. "I told you to stay away from me."

His finger s.h.i.+fts to bone and beneath the hood, flames ignite. He swoops for me and I duck to the floor. He hovers above my head, his cape flowing onto my back. He puts his mouth up to my ear and his breath smells like a thousand stolen graves. "I got your mother to kill you, imagine what else I can do. Do not go against my wishes, Ember Rose Edwards. The only answers you need are from me."

I feel him whisk away, a hush of air across my back. When I push back to my feet, he's gone and Raven and Ian are staring at me, their faces frozen in horror.

"Em," Raven speaks tentatively. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah... I think so." But I need to get the h.e.l.l away from all this madness. I need to breathe.

"Look," she says in her stern tone. "You've been through a lot the last couple of weeks and I don't want you home alone, especially on Halloween-you know how crazy things get sometimes."

"I know... Alright, I'll go." I snag my jacket from the banister and dash vigorously for the door. Against the Reaper's warning, I'm going to Asher for answers. I've been forced by the control of death too much in my life and I think it's time to break free of it.

"Um... Em." Raven steps in front of me. "Don't you think you need to change first?"

I shrug at my b.l.o.o.d.y and ripped clothes. "I'm sure no one will notice. It's Halloween."

She shoos me toward the stairs. "You may not care, but I already have other plans for you. Big plans. One that will make Asher fall on his knees."

"I'm not really worried about how I look right now or whether or not Asher will fall on his knees," I hinder at the bottom step, disputing. "I'm only going because I need to talk to Asher about something and it's not important if I look hot."

"Just give me like an hour," she pleads, with her hands folded in front of her. "One hour to work my magic and then we're out. Okay?"

Two hours later we're still in my room. I'm sitting on my bed, while she lines my eyes heavily with black eyeliner. Then she traces my lips with a deep red lipstick. Every one of her touches brings quietness, not death. Something has changed in her-or maybe in me. I need to test it out, find out if death has finally left me. Or if it's left her somehow.

I try to text Asher while I sit there, to see if I can persuade him to come to my house instead. But he won't answer my text.

"Keep texting him all you want," Raven singsongs. "But he's under strict orders not to let you off the hook for going to this party."

I growl at the phone and shove it aside.

She leans back and admires her handiwork. "I am d.a.m.n good if I do say so myself." She steps aside so I can look in the mirror. My grey eyes sparkle against the silver and black eyeliner and my lips appear full and plump. She's tucked a rose over my ear and my black hair flows down my back. Around my neck is a choker centered with a rose and a black dress fits against body. My feet are laced up by a pair of my black boots and black feathered wings span out from my back. Suddenly, I'm kind of excited, like for one night I can pretend to be someone else.

"Isn't it a little weird, though," I say, inspecting myself in the mirror. "I mean, the black feathers... people already think I made Laden disappear and that might set them off more. And then there's the Mackenzie thing..." I haven't shared the truth about that with Raven yet.

"Who gives a s.h.i.+t what they think," she declares, flicking a mascara wand through her eyelashes. "You didn't do anything and if anyone gives you c.r.a.p, you'll knock them out-bring out the bar-fighting Ember I know."

A black ribbon secures the entire front part of the dress together. "I do like the costume."

"Well, you make one h.e.l.l of a Grim Angel," she says, clipping the lid onto the eyeliner.

My head snaps in her direction. "Is that what I'm supposed to be? I thought their bones showed through their skin."

She gives me a once-over. "On some they do... the ones that go crazy. But some are as beautiful as the Angels of Death." Her cell phone beeps and she sends a text.

I run my fingers along the soft petals of the rose in my hair. "I thought you said you didn't know much about them."

"After you talked about them, I went back and picked up the books to try and refresh my memory." She reapplies her lipstick in the mirror. "You looked so upset that I couldn't remember anything."

I stroke the tips of my wings. "So what else do you know?"

She bites down on her glossy lip. "A lot, but I want you to prepare yourself for what I discovered." Then she grabs my hand and pulls me out the bedroom door. "They are exceptionally beautiful. So beautiful in fact, that some humans can't actually see their beauty."

I follow her down the stairs. "And what about the insanity part? Is that true? Do they really lose their minds from the burden of death and the Reapers' blood?"

She falters at the front door and realigns her foot into her white satin high-heel. "They can, if they give in to the wrath of death. It's all about good and evil with these things, I guess. At least that's what the book said."

I turn sideways to fit through the doorway. "As in the Grim Reaper? He's the wrath of death, right?"

She stutters at my knowledge. "Yeah, that's the Grim Reaper. The belief is that a Grim Angel is a hybrid of Angel blood, mixed with Reaper blood, mixed with human blood."

We hop into her car and I lean forward because my wings create a hump on my back.

Raven takes her wings off and tosses them into the backseat. "Reapers are considered the bad version of death. They collect the evil souls and they are very powerful. Allegedly the Grim Angel breed was put on earth to stop some battle between the Angels of Death and the Reapers over who should get what souls... or maybe it was that one of them was stealing souls." She adjusts her mirror and backs onto the street. "The Grim Angel lives on earth as a human, carrying both the power of heaven and h.e.l.l in their bloodstream-their bodies hold balance to keep the Angels of Death and the Reapers at the same level, so neither would have more power over the other."

"You make is sound like the Angels of Death are as bad as the Reapers," I say, noting that her version of the story matches up with the one I read in the book. "Aren't angels the good ones?"

"In some ways, yes. They are the ones that collect the good souls, but the book said that they got greedy trying to balance out the soul collection when Reapers started stealing innocent souls." She sighs. "But anyways, I guess Reapers constantly try to trick Grim Angels and mess with their heads so they would surrender to death and join them. It's like a game to them or something, even though technically neither the Reapers nor the Angels are supposed to interfere with their lives."

Her tires screech as she peels onto the highway. The sidewalks are flooded with kids in Halloween costumes carrying bags of candy. The houses are gleaming with purple and orange lights. A girl in an angel costume skips down the sidewalk, holding her mother's hand in front of a house with an eerie mist across the front lawn. Can Angels and Grim Reapers really exist?

I rotate away from the window and slump against the door. "So what happens to the Grim Angels that don't lose their minds? They just live being tortured by death until they die?"

Raven doesn't answer right away. "Basically, I think so."

I'm reminded of Asher's tattoo and the story: One girl with death on her shoulders connected them both, and with a single choice she would save the world. But the fight would not be easy. He had to be talking about a Grim Angel.

She reaches into the backseat, swerving her car as she hunts from something. "Here, there's the book." She tosses a book onto my lap and regains control of her car. "It actually doesn't say much more than what I've told you, but I marked the pages if you want to read through it."

"Thanks." I open the book. "And I mean that. You really didn't have to go re-check this out and read it."

She fiddles with the temperature, turning it up then down. "Look Ember, I know I've been a really s.h.i.+tty friend for most of our friends.h.i.+p, especially during the last week or so. But I want to start over-I want to be a better friend."

"You're a good friend." I flip to the page she marked. "And last week's b.i.t.c.hiness is totally acceptable considering... what happened." I pause, one thing still bothering me. "But Raven, can you do me a favor and never call me crazy, even when you're mad?"

She nods with regret. "I'm so sorry. That was such a low blow. And I know you're not crazy."

I'm not so sure anymore. In fact, I'm starting to wonder if a Grim Angel lives inside me.