Cinder

by Jessica Sorensen

  He sighs when I don’t answer him right away. “Look, Ember, I know we haven’t really talked, but I’d like to help you the best that I can. I know you’re friends with Asher. And I know you’re important to him.”

  I wonder if he knows I’m a Grim Angel. If he’s an Angel himself. I eye him over, deliberating if I can trust him or not, at least enough to ask. Then I come to the conclusion that it doesn’t really matter. If he’s after me, then he’s already got me trapped. If he’s not and just thinks I’m crazy, then he can be one more person I add to the list.

  “Are you… are you…” God, please don’t think I’m crazy. “Are you an Angel of Death, too?”

  He shakes his head, not startled. A good sign. “I wouldn’t be able to help you if I was, but I do know about them—Angels and Reapers. You.”

  “Because Asher told you?”

  He considers something very carefully. “More or less.”

  There’s more to it than what he’s telling me. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that he’s probably not going to tell me because he either can’t or wants to keep his secrets. “You said you were going to help me,” I say. “But how exactly? And from what?”

  His attention strays over my shoulder as he picks a chunk of clay off his shirt. “I’m going to help you the only way I know how, by giving you some advice.” He looks at me and when our eyes fasten, fear pulsates through me. I don’t know where it stems from, whether he’s scared and I’m sensing it, or if he’s simply scaring me. “Have you ever heard of something called a ambulate umbra?”

  “No… why?”

  He yanks his fingers through his hair, leaving it sticking up. Then someone bangs on the door and moments later a face appears in the small window at the top. Their eyes are bleeding, seeping out like rain and splattering across the glass. I glance back and forth between the dead person and the Mr., wondering if he can see it, but he continues on with the conversation, unbothered.

  “The problem is, I have no idea where it is…” He keeps talking, his hand falling to the side, his brows dipping together. “Or who even has it.”

  I hitch my finger under the handle of my bag, adjusting it higher on my shoulder as I watch him pace back and forth in front me. “What is it exactly?” My eyes widen as the door creaks open and the dead person enters the classroom, glancing around at the art on the wall with a perplexed look.

  Again, Mr. Morgan seems oblivious. His forehead creases and then scurries over to his desk. “How about I show you,” he says as he opens his desk drawer. He retrieves a pencil and paper from the drawer and starts sketching while the dead girl just stares at me. There is a mark on her neck like a rope burn, the tips of her hair stained with blood. As I look closer, I recognize her features as one of the girls I saw in the newspaper; one that was murdered a week ago, her body found near the forest.

  “Help me,” she says in a haunting hollow voice as she stares at me with a distant expression. “Help us… free us from the pain. He’s got our souls trapped, Ember. And he plans on trapping a lot more and then destroying us all.”

  I want to ask her what she’s talking about, but what about Mr. Morgan? What would he say if I started talking aloud? If I told him I could see the dead?

  Debating what to do, I start to open my mouth, deciding that looking insane might be worth the risk to find out what’s going on. But as soon as my lips part, she disappears, vanishing into thin air without so much as a sound.

  “I’m much better at drawing what I mean than trying to explain it,” Mr. Morgan continues to talk, while I stare at the spot where the girl vanished.

  He’s got people’s souls trapped? Like someone is stealing souls and keeping them? Or is it something different? And who’s he?

  As my thoughts keep racing, Mr. Morgan glides the pencil effortlessly across the paper. He makes one last stroke then drops the pencil down on the desk before holding up the drawing. My jaw just about hits the floor, but I smash my lips together to conceal my shock. It’s a drawing that looks almost identical to my grandmother’s necklace; the one Cameron has and swears my Grandmother stole from him. The problem is, I have no idea what the color of it is, so I can’t be one-hundred percent certain.

  A warning goes off inside me not to utter that I know where or what it is. “So it’s a necklace,” I state the obvious.

  He nods and hands me the drawing. “It’s believed to have the blood of the original leader of the Grim Reapers, Altarius Vinceton. He created it to protect himself from his own kind, making it out of Chrysoprase and sealing it with the blood of himself, which was the more powerful of the two elements so it made the green in the Chrysoprase turn a dark red.”

  Dark red. I stare at the drawing, the lines forming a near replica of the necklace I once owned. It has to be my grandmother’s necklace. “But why would this Altarius guy need to protect himself from the Reapers if he was the leader of them? Wouldn’t that make him the boss?”

  “If only things were that easy,” he tells me. “If being the leader meant you never had to worry about anything, but unfortunately for Altarius, he knew the evil within himself and therefore understood the evil that lay in Reapers, all of them. No matter what they tell you.”

  What a convenient little story he’s got going on here. The abrupt reappearance of Cameron’s voice startles me so badly that I jump.

  Mr. Morgan gives me a startled look. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I tuck a fallen strand of my hair behind my ear, giving myself a moment to get myself together before I speak again. “So, you think this ambulate umbra could protect me from the Reapers killing me? Or is it going to protect me from something else because I thought they couldn’t kill me.” Only drive me crazy. Or if the book I was reading is right, steal my soul.

  Not all Reapers want to drive you crazy, Cameron says. I want your mind completely intact. In fact, I find you very fascinating… now stealing your soul on the other hand. Please tell me more about this because I’d love to try.

  Like you already don’t know how.

  Actually I don’t, he says. It’s supposed to not be possible, so I’m really curious as to what book you’ve been reading.

  The one that was stole from me, I say. From my shadow stalker.

  “They can’t kill you,” Mr. Morgan says, interrupting Cameron’s and mine’s conversation. “But they can make you want to kill yourself.”

  Shock soars through me and strikes me in the chest, knocking the breath out of me. “You mean, they can possess me and force me to… to die.”

  He wavers with hesitancy, folding his arms. “Not necessarily force you, but get you to that place, enter your thoughts and mess with your mind enough that you want it to all end.”

  That’s not what I’m doing, Cameron insists. I want you around, Ember.

  Sure you do.

  Ember, think about what’s going on here, he says. This guy pretty much just comes out of nowhere and willingly tells you all this stuff. Why would he all of a sudden do that?

  I don’t know… because he’s Asher’s uncle. I get what he’s saying, though at the same time, it’s hard to be on the same page as Cameron.

  Yeah, on his father’s side.

  What the hell’s that supposed to mean?

  “Ember, are you sure you’re okay?” Mr. Morgan is staring at me like he’s starting to grow concerned with my state of mind. “You seem a little distracted.”

  I tear myself away from my internal conversation with Cameron. “Sorry, I’m just feeling a little sick. That’s all.”

  “Maybe you should go home and lie down.” He glances out the window at the school yard and his face pales.

  I track his gaze and find that everyone has stopped moving except for one person. As soon as I see the guy everyone’s looking at, my head starts to pound, my lips start to tingle and my back starts to burn. He moves with confidence through the sea of motionless people, taller than most with broad shoulders, a scraggy jawline and blonde hair
that reaches his shoulders. He’s wearing a black suit and a red tie. Everyone seems to be drawn to him as he makes his way slowly across the yard with heads turning, eyes following his movements. And the dead girl that walked in the room is walking just behind him, watching him, then she glances up at me. Our eyes lock and there’s a silent plea inside them: help me.

  “Who is that guy?” I ask as I scratch at the spot burning on my back, but as I say it, recognition clicks. “Wait, is that our new mayor?” Why is he here? Better yet, why is he here when the entire school is possessed? Is it a coincidence? And is the dead girl trying to say he’s the one she’s talking about? That the mayor has their souls trapped?

  Hmmm… I bet you’re right, Cameron says. And I’m guessing he has something to do with all those murders.

  As the Mr. removes his gaze from the window, I detect a hint of fear in his eyes. “I think so… but I really think you should head home while all this is going on.”

  “But what is going on?” I ask, aware that he’s extremely uneasy all of a sudden, more than before. “I mean, everyone in the town… they seem so—”

  “Under the influence of the Anamotti,” he finishes for me. “They’ve somehow managed to take over minds in large quantities.

  Just like Raven. Oh, my God, it’s spreading like a virus. “You know about the Anamotti?”

  “I know of the Anamotti,” he corrects, sitting down on one of the nearby tables, his shoulders slumping inward. “But they’re sort of like a secret society and no one really knows anything about them.”

  Dammit. “Well, why all of a sudden are they taking over everyone? I mean, they’ve pretty much got the entire school walking around like robots.”

  His expression plummets. “I have no idea right now, but I’m going to try to find out.” He gets to his feet, returns to his desk again, and starts sifting through a collection of old books.

  Sure he doesn’t know anything. Cameron laughs inside my head. Why don’t you ask him how he knows all this when he’s not a Reaper or an Angel?

  I want to tell Cameron to shut up, however he’s right. I do need to find out why, all of a sudden, he’s handing over all this information. “Mr. Morgan—”

  “Please, call me Elliot,” he tells me, wiggling a book out from the bottom stack.

  “Okay, Elliot… How do you know about all of this?” I head towards his desk. “The Reapers. The Angels. The necklace?”

  His face goes sheet white as he walks to me with the book in his hand. “Because…” He swallows hard. “Because I was once an Angel of Death.”

  I stare at him, speechless. “You were once an Angel of Death?” I finally manage to find my voice. “What…? How…? Huh?”

  “It’s a long story that doesn’t really matter.” He glances nervously at the door as a loud bang echoes in the hallway then he tucks the book under his arm. “Besides, I’d rather not talk about here.”

  “But, I—”

  He holds up his hand, cutting me off, still focused on the door. “Look, it’s not safe for you to be here… there are too many people possessed by the Anamotti and I have a feeling it’s going to get worse.” When he looks at me again, he lowers his voice, “But if you want to meet somewhere more private, I can tell you more of what I know.”

  The bang in the hallway grows louder and he flinches, jumping. I realize how nervous he is and how nervous I probably should be, considering we’re standing in the center of a building that’s swarming with Anamotti.

  “When and where?” I ask quickly.

  He hastily backs up towards his desk and retrieves a pencil before returning to me and taking the drawing from my hand. “Here’s my number,” he says, scrawling it down while he holds onto the book. “Call me after school ends.” He hands me the piece of paper. I fold it up and put it in my back pocket. “And Ember, please go straight home. I have a feeling things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.”

  I eye the book he has tucked under his arm. I can’t tell what the title is, but it looks old. “Okay, I will.”

  “Good,” he says and then he’s ushering me towards the door.

  I trip over my own boots and grab ahold of the doorknob to stop myself from falling as he rushes me out. I’m about to ask him what’s going on when I feel the zipper of my bag being pulled on and then something heavy lands inside it. When I glance back at Elliot, he’s already turning away from me, the book no longer in his hands.

  “It was nice talking to you, Ember,” he says very formally as he goes back to his desk and starts sifting through his papers.

  I’m baffled by his abrupt, offish attitude, but I don’t say anything and open the door, stepping out into the hallway, the book feeling like lead in my bag. I wonder why he was so weird about giving it to me. Or what it even is. I’m wondering a lot of things about what just happened as I enter the quad. Then, all of those thoughts float from my mind.

  I feel like Carrie at the prom as everyone turns to look at me. I half expect blood to splatter down from the ceiling and onto me. No blood ever shows up, but again, my head starts to pound, my lips get tingly, and my back feels like it’s on fire. I’m not sure what to do, so I start to turn back and head in the other direction when someone nudges me in the back. I throw a glance over my shoulder then stumble forward at the sight of a girl from my English class standing behind me with a hollow expression on her face and eyes glowing like nightlights. There is a line of people standing behind her, blocking the entrance to the hallway. I look back to see that people have started to line the walls of the circular quad, all of them just staring at me, and I catch the mayor of the town disappearing down the hall that the line of possessed people is leading to.

  It’s like he’s leading them straight to him, but why? So he can kill them?

  Don’t worry about that right now.

  But what if he’s going to kill everyone here?

  Even if he is—if he isn’t just a normal human and has that kind of power—you couldn’t stop him alone. So do yourself a favor and walk straight ahead, Cameron whispers in my thoughts. They won’t touch you, I promise.

  Why should I listen to you? I ask. Trust you with anything?

  Because you have no other option at the moment.

  I know he’s right and I hate it. The only thing I can really do is try to walk out of here.

  Taking a small step, I move forward, waiting for them to attack, however all they do is stand there and watch me. So I take another step and another, continuing to cross the length of the school as the fire on my back gets hotter and hotter. Their eyes pretty much burn holes in me, but none of them make a move to touch me.

  Finally, I reach the opposite end where there’s another hallway that will take me right outside to where my car is parked. However there are two very bulky guys—football players, I think—blocking my path. I hesitate.

  Just nudge through them, Cameron says. They won’t do anything to you.

  Shaking my head and summoning a deep inhale, I do what he says and start to move between them, holding my breath as I squeeze by. My shoulders brush against them and it feels like my entire being blazes up in flames. Blackness. Pain. Good-bye. Please don’t leave me. I can’t. Everything hurts. Capes and feathers showering from the sky. All over the town. Blood filling the streets that are filled with bodies. So many bodies. So many deaths. Thousands. I can feel them pouring through me like a river of needles and the mayor is standing in the midst of it all with blood on his hands.

  Jerking myself from the painful images of death, I race by and duck down the hall, running down the hall.

  “Jesus, what the hell was that?” I whisper, pressing my hand to my chest, catching my breath as I burst out the door and onto the yard. As the cool air hits me, the heat starts to subside, calming down the further away from the school I get. I take long strides, hurrying for my car while looking at my feet as gazes bore into me.

  “Cameron, why did I see that…? All those deaths? Was it because tha
t guy was possessed by the Anamotti?”

  It takes Cameron a moment to answer. I’m not even sure why I’m asking him, other than I have no one to ask. No, it wasn’t because he was Anamotti. He pauses as I unlock my car and climb into. It looks like you had your first death omen.

  “I’ve already been having death omens,” I point out as I start the engine. “For a very long time.”

  No, you’ve been able to see death, he states. Death omens are a whole different ballgame. They apply to a large group of people. Simultaneous deaths that happen all at once from the same force can only be felt through the touch of a Reaper.

  “But I never feel them when I touch you.”

  That’s because I care enough about you not to let you feel them.

  I’m not sure how to respond to his twisted act of kindness, so I avoid reacting at all. “So you’re saying the entire town’s going to die?” I ask, gripping onto the steering wheel, my palms coating in sweat. “And that the mayors going to do it?