Cinder

by Jessica Sorensen

  “Get away from me, you moron!” she cries, running around as it swoops at her head like a bird. “Get her, not me!”

  The shadow continues to swarm around her repetitively, whooshing at her hair, diving down and circling around her. I wonder if it’s my stalker shadow and why it seems like it’s trying to help me. “Get away from me!” she cries. “And go find the book!”

  The book. Shit. Is that why they’re here? I try to roll over to crawl out of the room, but they keep coming at me, strangling me with their chill every time they touch me. Through the madness of it, I swear I hear the faintest whisper coming from it. A voice that I recognize. “Ember, stay put.” When my dad’s voice surrounds me, I swear to God time stops.

  I’m not sure if I’m losing it, but I still try to stay put like he said. Then the rest of the shadows start to swoop for me, smacking against my body; their chill seeping into my bones and drowning out my emotion. I struggle to get to my feet to help but I fall right back down the moment I get my feet underneath me. Again, I hit my head, and the whole room looks like a shadow while the world spins beneath me. I can’t do anything about it, though, as shadows fly around me. With every brush against me, they feel deathly cold, surrounding me in their icy menace.

  I’m not sure what their purpose is, yet the more they move, the more hollow I feel. I can’t help thinking of the shadow realm. I wonder if this is what it is. If these are Reapers and they’re here to get me. But why? And why did I hear my dad’s voice coming from the shadow attacking Raven.

  I search the crowd of shadows, looking for which one it was, however they’ve all blended together, orbiting my head like birds. I’m confused about what the point is, and my confusion only grows when I hear Cameron’s voice rise above the madness.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my least favorite person,” he says with a cocky grin.

  “And if it isn’t the Reaper that no one wants around,” Raven retorts, and the swooping of the shadows stops. “You know, your obsession with her is ridiculous, especially when she’s in love with the Angel.”

  “She’s not in love with the Angel,” Cameron says venomously. “Love requires knowing everything about the other person, flaws and all, and loving them despite them.” His footsteps grow louder as he moves up beside me. “And trust me, Asher hasn’t told her any of his flaws.” It gets quiet, and seconds later, I feel his arm slip underneath me. He helps me up as I blink until my vision gets into focus, adjusting to the darkness of the room. “Are you okay?” he whispers in my ear with genuine sincerity.

  “I’m fine,” I say, slipping out of his hold, confused why he’s being nice.

  “Well, she definitely doesn’t love you,” Raven says snidely with her arms folded. “So I guess your rebellion is turning out to be for a lost cause.”

  “My rebellion isn’t only because of her,” Cameron states, moving up beside me and into my line of vision. He’s wearing his floor length cape, but the hood isn’t pulled over his head, which leaves his facial features and blonde hair visible. “And need I remind you that, despite your possession, you’re still human and vulnerable to death? So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk out of here before things get really ugly.”

  Raven glares at him, but there’s a flicker of fear in her eyes. “Fine.” She snaps her fingers as she starts for the door. “Ian, let’s go. We’re done here.”

  I snag the sleeve of Ian’s shirt as he starts to walk towards her. “No, he’s staying here.”

  “Oh, you think so?” She glances from Ian to me then to Cameron. “Since you’re so keen on her, can you please explain to her that Ian can’t stay here, not when he’s under the possession of Alton—not after he’s given in to his Reaper blood?”

  Cameron gives her a bored look. “Take the boy. Like I care.”

  “Cameron, I can’t just let him go with her. She’s evil,” I hiss, knowing full well that there’s no reasoning with him. That he’s bad. Evil. A Reaper. At the same time, though, he’s here and seems to be protecting me at the moment, so I have to at least try.

  Cameron turns his head towards me and I startle back at the sight of his glowing eyes. “Princess, you need to let him go, otherwise you’re going to have a whole swarm of Anamotti here to torture you until you do.”

  I refuse to let go of his shirt, but as Ian steps forward, the fabric slips from my fingertips. When he then goes to leave with Raven, I start to chase after him, but Cameron’s arms enfold around me and he pulls me back. I have no other choice but to let him walk out of the attic and with her.

  We stand in silence as they leave, listening to the sounds of their footsteps growing fainter until the sound disappears all together, and moments later the front door slams shut. Then all I can hear is my breathing and the sound of the wind outside.

  “She said he’s a Grim Angel,” I whisper, staring at the doorway, tears blurring my vision.

  “Was a Grim Angel,” Cameron says with very little sympathy. “But he gave in, and now they own him.”

  “You’re lying,” I utter, shaking my head in denial while hot tears spill down my cheeks. “She’s lying.”

  “Not this time,” he replies and then his hand touches the small of my back. I flinch at first, but then I realize that he’s trying to comfort me, and for a moment, I take up the offer, letting him touch me because right now there’s no one else.

  Eventually I stop crying and pull myself together then step to the side and out of his touch. “So he’s a Reaper now?” I ask, glancing at Cameron, only to find that he’s staring at me with perplexity and curiosity.

  “For now,” he answers, continuing to ogle me with fascination. “But it could all change, depending on the choice the last Grim Angel makes.”

  “You mean, he could be freed if the last Grim Angel chooses the side of good?” I ask, hopefully.

  “No, but he could become an Angel if they choose the good.” He moves towards me, cocking his head to the side, refusing to stop looking at me like I’m a curious little creature. “Your tears are so fascinating.” He extends his arm towards me and brushes his fingers across my cheek. “So much emotion behind them.”

  I start to recoil at the feel of his cold fingers. “Cameron, please don’t touch me.”

  He disregards my request, his fingers moving with me as I back up. He wipes a few tears away before he starts to lean in. At first I think he’s going to kiss me and my body goes as rigid as the floorboards, but then he grazes his lips across my cheek where a tear is rolling down my skin. My initial reaction is to run from him, but the magnetic feeling I felt when we went to the lake and he dove in to get my necklace, resurfaces. I feel a pull towards him, and even though I’m guessing he’s manipulating me, I stand frozen in place as he kisses tear after tear, erasing each one. Once my face is dry, he moves away with a blasé demeanor.

  “You might want to consider staying somewhere else, especially since they seem to want that book you’re harboring in your trunk,” he says and then strolls towards the door, like nothing happened between us.

  I follow him out into the hallway. “Those shadows that were here… what are they?”

  He pauses, slowly turning around to face me. “You saw those?”

  I nod. “Um, yeah. They were everywhere.”

  He stares blankly at me and then suddenly he’s smirking. “Well, I guess your Reaper blood might be stronger than I thought, if you can see the shadow realm.” Then he turns and walks away, calling over his shoulder, “Until next time, princess.”

  I want to chase him down and confront him, demand that he take back what he said. However, the painful truth starts to bleed inside me as I recount the last few days. How I’ve killed. How I found out my brother gave into his Reaper’s blood. How I drank Cameron’s life.

  Maybe Cameron is right.

  Perhaps I’m veering towards evil.

  Chapter 9

  My head and body ache from the beating I just took. Plus, my back has started to burn
again along with my eyes. I have no idea why, but after I take some pain killers, I go up to my room and make a face as I realize that while I was being attacked, something or someone came into my room and trashed it, probably looking for the book. Thankfully, they didn’t find it and it’s still tucked away in the bottom of the trunk.

  It’s past two o’clock in the morning, yet I don’t feel tired at all. In fact, I’m wired with thoughts of Reapers and Angels and my family racing through my mind. My brother’s on their side, my mom is missing, and all I have left is a very annoying Reaper who insists the only reason he’s tormenting me is because he wants me.

  Plus, there’s my dad. I know I heard his voice amongst the shadows, but I can’t be certain it was actually my dad, especially if the shadows were Reapers. It might have been their way to get at me… but then why was the shadow diving at Raven’s head?

  My head starts to throb the more I think about it. I need some rest. I close my eyes, and after a little while, I manage to drift off into dreamland. The next thing I know, someone’s stroking my cheek, and I’m yanked out of my sleep and back to reality.

  I stiffen from the touch, not just because it frightens me, but because, for the briefest moment, it becomes welcoming. “Cameron, go away,” I mumble. “Unless you’re going to tell me something that can give me any insight to what the hell’s actually going on.”

  The fingers stroking my cheek pause and the person’s muscles ravel before they remove their hand. “It’s not Cameron.”

  Asher’s voice engulfs my body and kisses every inch of my skin, awakening me from a deep, depressing slumber I’ve been sinking into over the last few weeks. I instantly feel more awake, alive, lighter. Freer. Not so dark and twisted inside. Reapers don’t consume my mind. The dark thoughts are gone.

  For a brief moment, everything feels right.

  My eyelids lift open and I gradually sit up, my head retaliating with blinding pain. I blink through it and then my lips part in disbelief at the sight of him before me, sitting on the edge of my bed beside me while appearing exhausted; his shoulders slackened and his plaid shirt and jeans wrinkled. His head is tipped down, his eyes locked on the floor, and there are wisps of his inky black hair hanging in his eyes. He looks heartbreakingly sad and in pain. I recollect his angel painting I saw in the art classroom the first time we kissed. He looks just like it at the moment, and it breaks my heart.

  I start to say something to him, but his presence has rendered me speechless, my voice won’t leave my lips. So instead, I’m left breathing deafeningly until, finally, he tilts his head and looks at me. When our eyes lock, anguish, agony, longing and want overpower me. He starts to reach for me, his fingers seeking my cheek, and I reach for him, but then he decides against touching me and pulls away, staring down at his hands.

  “I’m sorry,” he mutters with his brows knit.

  I fold my arms over my chest, curling into myself, wondering what’s wrong with him. Why he pulled away. “For what?”

  He peers up at me, his slate eyes black against the inadequate lighting of the lamp. “For leaving you.”

  “Asher, it’s not your fault,” I insist, taking in the sight of his beautiful eyes, his eyebrow piercing, his dark red lips that taste divine. I take in all of him because I can. Because he’s here. With me. God, I’ve missed him. I want him to be real, but I have to question whether he’s real or not because, at the moment, everything seems like it could be the Anamotti tricking me. Or Cameron.

  “Is it really you?” I ask, watching his reaction closely. “Or is Cameron messing with my mind? Because it’s not funny if that’s what this is.”

  Anger smolders in his eyes. “Cameron. I thought he was gone?”

  I slowly shake my head, astonished by his anger. “He was, but he came back the other night… although I think he’s been haunting my thoughts for longer than that.”

  His fists clench on his lap and his arms tremble with his rage as his arm muscles ripple. “I should have known. He has a knack for never giving up. For always being around and trying to get what he wants, no matter what it takes.” He huffs exasperatedly then his expression vaguely softens as he reaches for me again. He cups my cheek, his warmth spilling through me and heating the chill I didn’t know had been residing inside me until now. “I promise it’s me and not him.” He releases an unsteady exhale as his thumb caresses my skin. “God, I forgot how beautiful you are. I’ve missed you so much.”

  It’s him. It has to be. There’s no way Cameron or even one of the Anamotti could fake the passion in his voice or the honesty in his eyes. I leap from the bed and onto his lap, unable to control the amount of emotion bursting inside me as I throw my arms around his neck. I feel the silence of his touch as I bury my face against his solid chest and his arms wrap around me tightly, embracing me, pulling me closer to him. His chest crashes against my cheek with every breath he takes and his pulse is hammering in his chest.

  “What’s wrong? Why is your heart racing?” I start to pull away to look at him, but he only constricts his hold.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” He kisses my forehead and nuzzles his face into my hair, taking ragged breaths. “Not now anyway.”

  I let him devour my cheeks and forehead with kisses, afraid to move and break the silent connection between us. Plus, he seems to be struggling with his emotions, as though he’s overwhelmed by them, unable to keep what he’s feeling trapped inside. I’m falling to that place, too; wanting to cry over the sheer fact that he’s here and I’m no longer entirely surrounded by evil. I restrain the tears, however, because I know they’ll make me think about how I cried just hours ago when Cameron wiped and kissed them away from me. Still, the thought seeps in and I feel a pang in my gut.

  Guilt

  A plague

  It eats away

  At my rotting insides

  The more I fight

  The more it feasts

  I choke back my emotions, glad Asher doesn’t notice, glad he’s here holding onto me and no one else. Eventually his arms loosen around me, and he leans back to look me in the eyes, resting his hands on my waist. “Sorry, I got a little emotional there for a moment.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve missed your touch,” I tell him, my voice shaky. “Even though I love that you’re here and happy to see me, I’m wondering how you’re here. I thought you had to go away… that you broke too many rules and were being punished.”

  “I was being punished.” He places a hand on my cheek again and I melt into his touch, letting his warmth consume me; the contact fills all the voids that formed over the last few weeks. “But protecting you is more important than anything else.”

  “Protect me from what? Cameron?” I ask with a frown. “Or the Anamotti?”

  “You’ve said Cameron’s name a lot in the last few minutes.” The anger in his eyes resurfaces. “Has he been around a lot?”

  I sigh and tell him the whole story, hating to admit what happened; that I was weak enough to mess up and allow Cameron to have access into my head. With each detail I give him, I feel more disappointed in myself, yet I feel a weight lifting from my shoulders. Asher is here to talk to, and even though I can’t tell if I’m upsetting him, I love that he’s here. That I’m not alone in this madness. That I have someone here who I can confide in, touch, and kiss. Someone who doesn’t drive me crazy and who doesn’t constantly remind me of death.

  When I finish explaining to him what’s happened over the last few weeks, Asher stares at me for a lengthy amount of time, his face contorted with pain and confusion. I think he’s going to yell at me or chew me out. Get angry about everything I’ve done since he left; how much I’ve screwed up.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “For everything I’ve done while you’re gone. For messing up so badly.”

  He shakes his head, the pain subsiding. “Ember, I’m not mad at you.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and turns forward in the bed, his jaw set tight. “If anything, I’m angry with Cameron.” He con
templates something before he looks at me again. “After you took some of his life…” It’s difficult for him to speak, so he reaches for me, gripping my sides securely. Then his hands stray to my hips and his fingers jab down into my skin. “Did something happen to you?” he asks. “When you took some of Cameron’s life?”

  The lines on my skin start to itch so I pull off one of my gloves, showing him. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have done it, but I thought I had to in order to save the guy I stabbed. Although, honestly, I’m surprised Cameron has any life in him. I thought maybe he didn’t.”

  “He doesn’t.” Asher removes one of his hands from my hips and winces as he traces the vine-like lines on my arm. “Which is why these lines appeared. Instead of feeding yourself life, you were taking life in the form of death. If you would have gone for too long… done it too much…” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard. “You would have drained all the angel blood out of you.”