Ember (The Ember Series)

by Carol Oates

  “Crap, Philip! You frightened the life out of me!”

  “Oops.” He sniggered. His dark hair was mussed like he hadn’t been too careful about running his fingers through it, and his eyes were blood shot. His crumpled shirt had become untucked on one side, and Candra wondered which unfortunate girl had been the object of his latest advances.

  “Where’s the beer hiding?” she asked, keeping her hand pressed to her chest where it felt like her heart had tried to explode out of her ribcage.

  “It hasn’t been that long. I’m sure you still remember where I keep everything.”

  Candra ignored the suggestive tone of his voice. “Kitchen?”

  “Yup.” He took a long sip from the red cup he was holding, attempting to keep his eyes trained on Candra the entire time and failing embarrassingly.

  “Okay! Well, thanks for the stimulating conversation yet again, Philip,” she said caustically, wondering how in the world she had ever found him attractive.

  Around graduation they had spent every available moment at these parties, making out. Of course, that was when he wasn’t too busy making out with any other piece of female flesh he could get his hands on behind her back. By the time the weather had heated, Candra had cooled and gotten tired of Philip, putting the whole thing down to a behavioral anomaly.

  Candra had gotten off lightly. Father Patrick had caught Ivy kissing one of Philip’s friends against the outside wall of the college. According to what Ivy told Candra, it was impromptu and innocent, but it had smeared Ivy with a bad reputation. As far as Candra knew, it had been Ivy’s very first kiss. Ivy’s parents had gotten a phone call from Father Patrick to tell them how their daughter had brought the school into disrepute because she was still wearing her uniform at the time. Candra remembered that Philip found the whole situation highly amusing. It was another incident in the list of reasons she had no interest in talking to him right now.

  Philip slid the palm of his clammy hand over Candra’s bare shoulder and pushed her back against the wall. He didn’t use force, but it was accidentally hard enough to wind her a little. “What’s the rush?” He slurred a bit.

  She shrugged her shoulder forward. “You’re drunk,” Candra accused, “and I told you, months ago, what we were doing is over.”

  “Why?” He smirked as he played with a lock of her hair, twisting his finger through it slowly and staring at her passionately…or attempting to focus. She wasn’t sure which.

  “Okay, let’s just see, shall we?” Candra spat, crossing her arms over her chest and instantly releasing them by her side again when his drunken, lusty gaze dropped to the cleavage her action had managed to create from her modest breasts. “We had nothing in common, you told your friends every last detail of everything that went on between us, you cheated…repeatedly, and you’re an idiot. Pick one.”

  “Come on, you can’t say we had nothing in common,” he teased, raising an eyebrow and apparently choosing to ignore the rest of her reasoning.

  Philip’s finger loosened from her hair, but instead of moving back, he ran it haphazardly across her exposed collarbone. Candra didn’t budge; there was no need. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t touched her there before, or other more intimate places. She knew he was only testing the water to see how far he could push her. From experience she knew he wanted to see her react, but she had no intention of showing him any response at all. She kept her expression neutral. Her fingertips pressed into the flocked wall-covering behind her. Candra kept her attention on the feeling of her palms flattening against the wall, refusing to think about how close Philip’s lower body was to hers.

  There were people all around them, but Candra supposed to anyone else they probably appeared just the same as most of the other couples acting inappropriately in company. Philip’s fingertip trailed lower over the mound of her breast. That was taking it too far, and she began to contemplate if a well-placed, hard slap would sober him up. She opened her hand by her side in readiness, but she was too late.

  Before Candra got a chance to take a shot, another hand appeared from nowhere and lifted Philip’s away.

  “I don’t think you want to do that.”

  Her eyes darted to a tall muscular guy she didn’t recognize, standing almost between her and Philip. She was sure if she had seen him before she would have remembered.

  “Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Philip gasped, his eyes widened in shock. “This is my party.”

  The guy lowered his face calmly so he was level with Philip, still retaining his grip, and looked directly into his eyes. “Which is precisely why you should show some respect to your guests. Like I said, I don’t think you want to do that.” His tone was menacing in its calmness, without any trace of attitude. His long-sleeved T-shirt was bunched to his elbows, and Candra couldn’t help watching the veins pop and the lines of his tensed muscle on his forearm as his grip intensified on Philip’s hand.

  “I don’t want to do that,” Philip repeated after him like a puppet.

  The guy smiled casually, making his navy-colored eyes crease a little at the corners. “You’re drunk, Philip. Maybe you just need to crash for a bit?”

  Much to Candra’s surprise, when he eventually released Philip’s arm, Philip slapped the top of the guy’s arm like there were old friends, despite the fact that Candra felt as if she could have cut through the eerie tension hanging in the air between the three of them with a dull knife. They could have been friends, she reasoned. It wasn’t like Philip made a point of introducing any of his friends to her, but she was sure she still would have seen him around somewhere.

  “Yeah, I probably do need a time out,” Philip agreed stupidly and then turned back to Candra. “Hey, I’m sorry, Candra. You know I didn’t mean any harm.”

  “Eh, yeah.” She snickered. His sudden change of demeanor from drunken-demented-wolf to kid-caught-with-his-hand-in-the-cookie-jar was incredibly bizarre. “Just messing around, right?”

  “Right,” he determined with a nod of his head, not picking up on her sarcasm at all before he backed off and went off on his merry way.

  Candra straightened out her hair and did a quick inventory to check that all her clothes were still in place.

  “You don’t have to thank me.” The guy grinned smugly as if he was Lancelot and he’d just rescued Guinevere from a ragging army of barbarians, instead of Candra from a sleazy ex.

  “I wasn’t going to,” she shot back confidently. “I was handling it perfectly well by myself, thanks”

  “Well, you’re welcome, and it didn’t look that way to me.” He crossed his arms and followed his remark with a deep chuckle she could barely hear over the music that had just gone up a notch in volume.

  She knew she was being rude. It wasn’t this guy’s fault that Philip could be a pain in the ass; he was probably born that way, or it was some shot they issued to guys in secret once they reached puberty.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I know you were trying to help.”

  “Rough day?” He smiled. “And you weren’t being rude.” He was so sincere that it was totally disarming, and she couldn’t rip her eyes away as she watched him pull up his sleeves that had come down, revealing even more of his deeply tanned forearms. “I like it when a girl can take care of herself.”

  Candra nodded and gulped, mouthing a hello to a girl from school that passed by checking out his ass. She wanted to ask if the girl had seen Ivy but couldn’t bring herself to leave her new friend in the middle of a conversation, if that was what they were having.

  “I’m Daniel,” he said loudly, bringing his face momentarily near her ear and she secretly thanked the DJ when Daniel’s hot breath hit her neck.

  When he stepped back, his lips pulled in a delicious lopsided grin. His eyes were the most unusual color: a deep, penetrating midnight blue, framed in the longest jet black lashes she’d ever seen. Candra had the sudden urge to brush away a clump of his straight black hair that fell across them. As if on cue, h
e flicked his head and then combed it away with fingers.

  “Candra,” she called back in a voice that was surprising raspy.

  He placed his hand out to shake hers in a very formal gesture. Worried that she had already been rude once, she took it. His skin was warm. It wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t rough either, and she couldn’t help liking the way it felt against hers.

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, Candra. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

  “Eh, yeah,” Candra stammered. She didn’t actually want him to go anywhere, or at the very least, she wouldn’t have minded an invitation to go along with him.

  It was absurdly endearing the way his mouth was slightly uneven when he smiled, revealing a perfect set of Hollywood-white teeth. Candra found herself toying with the idea of asking him if he wanted to have a drink, a dance…or to be the father of her children.

  He started to lift her hand, stroking the back of it with a featherlight touch of his fingers and at the same time lowering his face a little. He was going to kiss her hand—did people even do that anymore? One of his hands held hers while the fingers of his other hand explored her skin, tracing the lines of the small veins and making the tiny hairs rise and her body shiver. She didn’t try to pull away; she simply watched him. It was like he was fascinated, as if he had never touched someone before that moment.

  He turned Candra’s hand so it was palm up, running the very tip of his nose back and forth across her wrist, and inhaled. She was frozen and utterly dumfounded by the excitement rocketing through her body. Her heart thundered, drowning out the sound of the base vibrating through the room. She was mortified to realize she couldn’t remember what perfume she was wearing or if she was wearing any at all. She was even more mortified to realize she liked what he was doing. It was sensual in a way she had never experienced before, and it was making every nerve ending in her body come alive with the anticipation of where he would touch her next.

  Without lifting his head, he looked up to Candra through mesmerizing black eyelashes. “You know, some believe that when you save someone’s life you are responsible for that life, that something much greater than both of you binds you together forever.” His breath caressed her skin with each word.

  Candra sucked in a shaky breath. “You didn’t exactly save my life.”

  He smiled the same half-smirk again before letting her hand go and standing straight. “Details.” He grinned.

  Candra returned his smile tentatively; her stomach was doing triple somersaults.

  “I think I will call you ‘my Candra’ from now on.”

  Then she laughed, making his grin grow wider, which only made him more handsome. He seemed to like it when she laughed.

  “You know that’s kind of on the very razor’s edge of cute and creepy?” Candra joked.

  The smile abruptly dropped from his face, and his eyes moved around the room as if he was looking for something. Candra looked around too, seeing nothing but teenagers with raging hormones and too much alcohol.

  “I’ll see you soon, my Candra,” he said without looking back to her and leaving her disappointed.

  Candra watched him longingly as he disappeared into the crowd before shaking her head vigorously.

  Damn it, Candra, what the hell is wrong with you? Now was completely the wrong time for meeting a new guy. She had enough going on in her life as it was.

  She did another circuit of the party, looking for Ivy, and twenty minutes later she still hadn’t found her. Ivy wasn’t answering her phone, but Candra guessed she couldn’t hear it.

  “Perfect.” Candra closed her phone with a snap. The idea of being at a party had lost its shine. She decided it was time to leave and started toward the door until she spotted something over the heads of the people dancing. The sight of the fiery head of hair made her gag.

  She immediately ducked behind four guys by the wall and had to politely decline the offer of a suspicious looking roll-up. After a moment or two, she started to move sideways, keeping her eyes on Flame-hair’s head bobbing through the crowd with ease.

  Candra was momentarily distracted when she came to a couple shamelessly groping at each other by the side of a cabinet, behind a table where all the other furniture had been moved to the side of the foyer. She had two choices: she could squeeze by them—they didn’t look like they’d be easily disturbed, but she still didn’t relish the idea. Her other choice was to skirt around the front of the table and the edge of the dance floor nearer to Ananchel. Candra took another look at the couple; the young girl had begun to thrust her hips against the boy.

  Candra looked around again to see all the couples gyrating on the dance floor, and it dawned on her that she should have noticed something before. It was Ananchel; she was doing something to the entire party. Everyone, including Candra, was over-heated. She grimaced and turned, eager to get out of there, and walked straight into Ananchel moving toward her. In the brief moment Candra had looked away, she had obviously spotted her. There was something different about Ananchel as she closed the distance between them: she didn’t look ominous, the way she normally did. She looked…friendly, or at least what Candra presumed passed as friendly for someone like Ananchel. She wasn’t convinced someone with the power Ananchel had over others could ever be trusted to be merely friendly.

  Candra was caught between the idea of running and curiosity about what had brought about this change in Ananchel. Regardless, her legs didn’t want to move. She looked around wildly, pretending she didn’t see Ananchel even though she was almost on top of her, all the time willing her limbs to cooperate in the most prudent action…getting her the hell out of there. By the time Candra’s legs decided to reconnect with her brain, it was too late, and Flame-hair had stepped in her path.

  “Ananchel.” Candra plastered the most sincere fake smile she could muster on her face. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “No matter.” Ananchel shrugged and flicked her long hair over her shoulder with one liquid movement of her hand, an unsuspecting college guy dancing behind her swooned a little catching her scent.

  “What a coincidence, running into each other again so soon.” Candra’s stomach clenched, and she remembered that she hadn’t eaten since picking at a salad at lunch.

  Ananchel sighed and lifted her hand to examine her blood red nails. For some reason, Candra imagined they were talons on the end of her elegant fingers, but they weren’t. Her nails were short and squared off, perfectly en vogue with current trends.

  “Not really,” Ananchel breathed. Candra could hear her even though she didn’t strain to lift her voice above the din of the music.

  Ananchel dropped her hand again and turned her dark eyes on Candra. “You see, I followed you here.”

  Candra’s initial reaction was to wonder if she should scream or cry. She inhaled deeply and felt her heart start to pound like a base drum. She was a deer caught in the headlights with nowhere to run.

  “Oh, relax,” Ananchel laughed. “I have been told to refrain from interfering with you.” Her expression was lighthearted but Candra could still clearly see the underlying traces of smugness and suspected Flame-hair enjoyed seeing her squirm.

  Candra steeled her body just in case and tried her hardest to breathe normally. She desperately wanted to gasp in air, but she wasn’t willing to let Ananchel see her do it. The air was hot with smoke and the smell of liquor, yet Philip had never once gotten busted the whole time she knew him. Parties are getting busted all over the city for drugs and underage drinking. Why can’t I have luck like Philip? What is wrong with me? Candra mused. She couldn’t seem to keep her mind on a single train of thought for any length of time.

  “What is it you want, then?” Candra forced out through a tight throat.

  “I’ve been sent to offer you an invitation.”

  “A what?” Candra was sure she must have misheard.

  “An invitation, Candra, to our home.”

  “Why?” Candra enquired, baffled. She hadn’t manag
ed to gather much information, but from what she did have, there was no love lost between the ones guarding her and Ananchel.

  Ananchel rolled her eyes knowingly and looked past Candra to the second floor balcony over where they stood. “Surely you want to hear both sides, Candra? I can’t imagine a bright girl like you would take the word of a Nuhra as the whole truth without question.”

  Nuhra, Candra repeated the word she didn’t recognize in her head, presuming Ananchel had to be referring to Brie or Sebastian; maybe all of those who claimed to protect her. Angels really did exist, but from what she was learning they didn’t all get along—they had chosen sides, but why? She got a sense she was being manipulated, both sides using her ignorance against her. And by ignorance she meant that she didn’t even understand what Ananchel had just said. It could be a trick, or was Ananchel really offering her all the answers the others were withholding? Candra eyed her suspiciously.

  “Why would you want to help me? I thought we were like enemies or something?”

  To her surprise, Ananchel blinked twice before her perfectly groomed eyebrows drew down in a scowl. Candra braced herself for whatever onslaught Ananchel was about to throw against her. She couldn’t stop Ananchel, but maybe if she was ready for it, if she was prepared, she could limit how much she showed it affected her. But instead, Ananchel laughed a high-pitched cackle.

  Candra unconsciously took a step back when she saw a blur of black and red fluttering out from Ananchel’s bare back for an instant before it vanished.

  The moment Sebastian was inside the door, he knew there was something wrong. Candra was talking to Ananchel, but she was too relaxed. There was no fear in her expression. She looked perfectly at ease discussing something he couldn’t hear, and he didn’t like it.