Death Collectors: Ember Part 3

No, not again. My body ignites with flames. I scream as a tunnel opens up and swallows me.

Chapter 4.

My first death omen happened when I was four. My grandma Nelly came to live with us, back when things were somewhat normal and hadn't completely gone to s.h.i.+t yet. Grandma Nelly was old and suffered from dementia. By the time she moved in with us, she was fairly gone-forgetting things, wandering off in the middle of the night. My grandpa had pa.s.sed away several years before and there was no one to take care of her. Eventually she started to suffer from hallucinations. She forgot who everyone was. The night she died, she snuck into my room and sat down on the bed next to me. I'll never forget that night-it changed my life forever.

She took off her necklace and placed in my hand. "Here, Emmy, this is yours now."

The oval pendant filled up the palm of my hand. "Grandma, what are you doing?"

"Do you feel that, Ember?" Her eyes lit up with antic.i.p.ation as she took my hand and placed it over her heart.

Her heart beat rapidly beneath my palm. I sat up, confused. "Feel what, Grandma? Your heart?"

She shook her head excitedly. "No, Emmy, my life. Do you feel it leaving?"

"No," I answered and glanced at the door. "Are you okay, Grandma? Maybe I should go wake up Mama."

"No, no," she whispered. "You need to listen closer, Emmy. You'll hear it-my life slipping away. You need to take it, okay?"

There was something momentous in her eyes, so I shut my own and listened to the flutter of her heart, the whisper of her breath, the lull of her blood as it danced through her veins. There was warmth, then coldness. A light flickered inside me and for a moment, I felt powerful. When I opened my eyes, she was lying on the bed. Her eyes were shut and she looked peaceful. I let her lay there for a while before waking up my mother and telling her Grandma was gone.

My mom asked what happened, so I told her. She looked at me like it was my fault. And maybe it was. I had felt her life leave her body and my own life grow. After the funeral, my mom sent me to live with my dad, the mechanic/car thief. He did his best raising me until he vanished. Then it was back to live with my mom and my brother.

"Open your eyes," a deep voice a.s.serts. "Come on, not yet. Open your eyes, G.o.dd.a.m.n it." The whisper alters to a desperate plea. "Please, Ember... Please wake up... You have to be one of them-I know you are."

Soft lips touch mine and a jolt of life slams my heart, like a defibrillator charged it to life.

"Take it, please..." the voice begs. "You have to take it."

Something soulful and poetic whispers for my mind to bring my body back to life. Then the life of another connects to every part of me and lifts my body to life. My heart expands and sends the blood flowing through my body again. A hand presses firmly against my heart and my lungs swell. My eyelids open and water rushes up my throat. I hack up dirty water until oxygen flows through my lungs again. I think I spot my body floating up above me in the trees, but everything's blurry, like an unfocused camera lens. I rub my eyes, gradually sit up, and the body evaporates into the night sky.

"Are you okay?" my rescuer asks, coughing.

I dry my eyes with my fingertips. "I think so... How did you..." What the h.e.l.l was that?

The moon reflects behind the hazy clouds and rain sprinkles from the sky. The gorgeous guy from the party kneels on the rocky sh.o.r.eline next to me. His black hair is damp and beads of water drip down his pale skin. The silver skull on his necklace glints in the moonlight and his long, black eyelashes flutter against the rain. His beauty is breathtaking and I almost forget where I am.

"Did you... did you jump in and save me?" I cough with my hand over my mouth.

He watches me in a way no one has ever done before, like I'm something valuable. "Yes... I thought I lost you for a second, though."

I eye the cut forehead and the dark half-circles under his eyes that weren't there at the party. "Are you okay?"

He nods, his eyes doing a slow sweep of my body. "I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about."

"What happened?" I smooth back my drenched hair. Did I just die?

"I'm not sure," he says, befuddled. "I was driving home from the party and saw the guard rail crushed to pieces. It wasn't that way when I drove up, so I thought I'd check. I saw your car sinking into the lake, so I ran down and jumped in."

"That was very brave of you." I hack up water; my lungs feel bruised.

"I think we need to call an ambulance and get you checked out." He stands up and brushes the dirt and pebbles off his jeans. "That was a pretty bad crash and you weren't breathing when I pulled you out."

Metal fragments of the Challenger spot the rocks on the hill. Bits and pieces of what happened rush back to me. "I think the brakes went out and then I think someone ran into me."

His eyes widen. "And then they just left you."

I shrug. "They probably thought I was dead."

He swallows hard and then clears his throat. "You have to report this. It's basically like a hit and run-this is partly their fault."

"No, it's not. My brakes going out caused it." I delicately touch the side of my throbbing head. "Although, I'm not sure how they went out. And I just checked the brake pads and lines."

Did someone cut them? Like the owner of the car who ran into me? Or the creeper with the X tattoo on his eye? But who would want to hurt me? A lot of people, come to think of it.

He arches an eyebrow, shooting me a peculiar look. "You change your own brake pads?"

"My dad was a mechanic," I explain. "And he liked to teach me while he worked on cars."

"Was a mechanic?"

"He died a few years ago."

"Sorry, I know how hard that is. I lost my dad too."" He extends his hand to help me to my feet. "My cell's in my car. Do you think you can walk? Or can I carry you?"

I love the idea of him carrying me, but he would have to touch me, so I pa.s.s on his offer. "I think I'm okay walking..." I tense as his fingers graze my knuckles, slide down the back of my hand, and thread through my fingers. No one has ever touched me like this before without death suffocating me. There's no blood, no pain, no expiration date. It's exhilarating and terrifying, like street racing.

His eyes stay on me as he pulls me to my feet. Once I'm standing, he slips an arm around my lower back. The rain pours down on us as we hike up the hill. My legs feel heavy as weights and my skin is scratched and bruised. I touch a tender spot on the hollow of my neck and then panic.

"Oh my G.o.d." I turn back to the lake. "I lost my necklace."

He moves in front of me and puts his hands on my shoulders. "I'm sorry. Was it important to you?"

"My grandma gave it to me before she died." I watch the lake ripple from over his shoulder, picturing the necklace floating to the top. But my imagination isn't powerful enough to return it and I force my attention to the hill.

"So you never told me your name," I say as we hike up the loose gravel.

He hand tightens on my waist as we maneuver over a steep lip of the hill. "Asher... Asher Morgan."

"Did you just move to Hollows Grove?" We break off the hill and onto the highway. The rain lets up, but the ground is mush, mud, and puddles. My clothes are soaked and weighted with dirt. "I've never seen you around school before."

"Monday will be my first day." He turns down the road, with his arm still around me, and walks a line near the guard rail. "My mom and I just moved from New York."

"Why on earth would you want to move here?" I glance back at the dark, empty road.

He chuckles softly. "For the beautiful scenery."

I frown at the pine trees bordering the road. "I guess that could be a plus for some people, but I'm sure it's not really why you moved here, is it?"

"You don't like it here?" he inquires, evading the question.

"No... I don't mind the low population, but a lot of people do. My best friend Raven hates it here." I stop as the past hour catches up with my traumatized mind. "Oh no." I slip from Asher's hold and take off down the road, stumbling like a drunken person.

He captures my arm and turns me to face him. "You can't go running off like that-you might have a concussion or something else and your shock's just numbing the pain. Honestly, I don't even know how you made it out alive."

Neither do I. It happened just like the omen said. "I have to find my friend Raven-that girl with the pink hair. She drove off with this guy who I... who was drinking. That's what I was doing-trying to chase her down. And I couldn't get a signal on my phone." I pat my empty pockets. "How far is your car?"

"It's just up the road, at the turnoff. I didn't want to leave it parked in the street and cause another accident." He embraces my hand and we walk to the turnoff, where a black 1960s GTO, with red racing stripes, is parked. The door is open and the headlights and engine are running. He hops into the driver's seat and checks the bars on his cell phone.

"No signal," he mutters.

I tap my foot anxiously, glancing around the forest. Rav, where are you?

"Let me take you to the hospital so you can get checked out," he says. "I'm sure your friends made it home by now, and if not, you can call her once we get a signal. And you should call the police"

"No thanks. I'm feeling pretty okay now." Hospitals are overflowing with death. "And no police."

"I think you should go. You might feel fine now, but you could just be in shock." He eyes my head. "And you got a pretty wicked cut on your head."

I walk around the front of the car for the pa.s.senger door. "Can you please take me home? I'll get my mom to take me, after I tell her about the car." I pause as another memory resurfaces. "Did you see anyone else driving around, like maybe right in front of you?"

He ducks his head and climbs out of the car. "I haven't seen anyone else on the road."

I grip the door handle as a spout of dizziness crashes through me. "Dammit. I was hoping you might have seen who hit me."

He treads through the mud around the front of the car. "Do you remember anything at all about what the car looked like?"

I shake my head and crack the door open. "I only saw the headlights."

"Here, let me get that." He reaches around and opens the car door for me.

"Thanks," I say, picturing Asher in a fedora and pinstriped suit, like it's the 1940s and guys were gentlemen.

I slide into the car and he slams the door shut. The inside of his car is nice. Reupholstered leather seats, a crack-free dashboard-this is what my dad wanted to do to the Challenger. But now it's gone, resting at the bottom of a lake, along with my death, which I can no longer see, feel, or taste.

I sigh heavily. What does it mean if my death has vanished?

Asher buckles his seatbelt. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing." I fasten my seatbelt. "I was just thinking about my car."

He thrusts the s.h.i.+fter into drive. "Is your mom going to freak out about it?"

I frown sadly. "No, she won't even notice, unless I tell her. It was actually my dad's car."

"I'm sorry, Ember." He gently squeezes my hand. Again, I tense from the contact, but relax as tranquility lulls my uneasiness.

"It's okay." I stare out the window at the profiles of the trees. "It was old and falling apart anyway, which is why the brakes probably went out." But deep down, I wonder if it had anything to do with the creeper at the party or the guy he supposedly saw in my car.

"What kind of car was it?" He cranks up the heat and the warm air feels nice against my damp clothes.

I wrap my arms around myself. "A 1970 Dodge Challenger."

He lets out a slow whistle. "d.a.m.n, that sucks."

I shrug again, watching the road as we curve through the mountains and around the lake. "It was just a car. I'll live."

"So were you close with your dad?" His voice edges cautiously.

I pick at the black fingernail polish on my thumbnail. "Yeah, we were pretty close. I moved in with him when I was four and lived with him until he vanished."

"How did he die?" he asks and adds, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I'm not sure," I say quietly. "The cops never found his body, but they found his car parked up in the mountains and his... blood was everywhere."

His grey eyes expand. "That has to be hard for you-not knowing what really happened to him?"

I nod, leaving out the details of the hourgla.s.s painted in blood on the winds.h.i.+eld, the ma.s.sive X staining the gra.s.s in front of the car, and the black feathers everywhere. "It is and I really don't like to talk about it."

He offers a sympathetic look. "I get it. Even though my mom loves to talk about my dad, it still hurts sometimes."

"How did he die?" I ask. "If you don't mind me asking."

We arrive at the rim of the mountains and breach through the trees and out into the valley. The town is silent, everyone tucked away safely in their beds. Porch and streetlights dot the fields and houses like fireflies.

The speed limit drops and he slows down the car. "He was killed on the... job."

It seems like he's holding back details. "Where did he work?"

He swallows hard and his knuckles whiten. He picks up his cell phone and checks the screen. "I've got a signal now if you want to call your friend."

I don't press the subject. If anyone can understand the need for secrecy it's me. I give him the directions to my house and then dial Raven's number. After a few rings, it sends me to voicemail.

"Hey Rav, I was just wondering if you were okay, since you bailed out on me with Goth Boy. I've had a crazy night and lost my cell phone. But I'll call you as soon as I get home." I hang up and hand Asher the phone.

"So I have to ask. How did you two end up being friends?" Asher asks. "You seem like opposites."

"We are, but she's my best friend," I reply. "My only friend, really."

His dark eyebrows knit. "Your only friend? That's pretty hard to believe."