Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things (Dead Things Series Book 1)

by Martina McAtee

  She looked over her shoulder, scanning the empty streets for any sign of life, suddenly spooked at the idea of this many people just…disappearing. The only movement was the single swing swaying empty in the slight breeze. Would they have wiped out a whole neighborhood to get rid of any humans not in the know about the supernatural? Everybody else seemed to think it was a possibility.

  She shook off the thought, continuing on her way. She wiped her brow, spotting a gravel road that disappeared into a thick glade of trees. She probably shouldn’t be wandering around in the woods in a town full of monsters but she was a monster too, maybe more of one than the others.

  She flinched as tiny shocks licked along her skin, almost like her magic wanted her to know it was there, just waiting for her to figure it out; like she needed reminding. Did they really think she’d figure her magic out in the middle of a pet cemetery?

  She walked on, the road getting narrower until it was just a tiny trail of gravel choked by roots and overgrown with kudzu vines. She almost turned back but stopped when she saw the remnants of a small iron gate hanging by one rusted hinge.

  It took her longer than it should have to reach it, tripping over a rock and almost sacrificing a flip-flop to a particularly thick knotting of vines. She shoved hard at the gate, the foliage too thick to go around. She squeezed herself through the tight space, grateful to find herself in a clearing of sorts.

  The grass was overgrown but it was like the vines and weeds just wouldn’t grow there, instead climbing upwards covering the surrounding trees and creating a wall surrounding the space. In the center of the clearing, one enormous tree spread its branches across the space, enclosing it against the sun overhead.

  Huge purple flowers hung heavy from the vines wrapping around the tree branches and mushrooms of every conceivable type seemed to thrive around the base of the tree. Everything about this space seemed fantastical, like she was Alice and this was her strange new Wonderland. She hesitated; her magic liked this place, pulsing beneath the surface, but she felt like she was invading, as if she was encroaching on a sacred space.

  She made it two steps before she saw the first stone, crumbled and half-hidden in the overgrowth. She knelt down, her laugh bubbling up from a place inside her she didn’t want to acknowledge. She’d found a cemetery, or maybe the cemetery found her. Maybe the dead would always find her.

  She knelt before the stone, letting her fingers run over rough granite. She could barely make out the name but it vibrated beneath her fingertips as she traced the shallow grooves, something inside her shuddering in response. She pulled her hand back and stood, brushing off her knees. Power like raw flame, burned along her palms and she knew her magic wanted her to go back, to touch the stone again.

  She rubbed her hands together, trying to appease the energy. She walked slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the way the sun filtered through the branches of the tree, creating a dizzying optical illusion of dancing shadows along the ground.

  Was this the only cemetery in the small town? It seemed hard to believe. All the stones were weathered and so old. It was more likely they’d created a newer more modern one years ago, leaving this one in peace.

  Before, she would have found this place peaceful too. Before her father died, before she found out she had family, before she met a twisted demon who seemed to possess the power to make her forget he wanted her dead, before her magic found her. Yes, before all of that, this truly would have been a sanctuary from reality.

  The closer she came to the great tree in the center, the more she could see it monopolized the space, thick roots snaked along the ground, displacing any stones in its path. She’d thought to sit under the tree and sketch but as her hand brushed the trunk, an image flashed in her mind.

  “November,” her mother’s voice said, “put that down and come here.”

  She saw her. She saw her mother with her flame red hair and easy smile. She heard her voice. She recognized the scent of lavender and something else, something entirely her mother. It was the first image of her mother as she was, before her imagination turned her into a vision out of a horror movie. Before. As quick as it came, it was gone.

  “No.” She said aloud. “No. No. No.”

  She moved to the base of the tree and sat, tucking herself against it, just in case it was the cause for her vision. She closed her eyes tight. She had to remember. She needed an image of her mother that wasn’t something weird and grotesque. Images swam back before her eyes and she really saw her.

  Her mother wore jeans rolled at the ankles and one of her father’s old button down shirts covered in blotches of color. She was painting on a canvas under a tree, under this tree.

  She could hear children laughing in the distance and knew it was Kai and Tristin playing just beyond the stones to her left. She had been playing too but now she’d found something much more interesting. She had found a bird; a tiny little bird with a grey belly and glossy black wings. She held it in her palms, belly up, presenting it to her mother like an offering.

  “Mommy, it’s got a owie,” she said.

  “No, sweetie. No owie,” she told her gently. “This bird has crossed over. It’s gone.”

  She looked at her mother with confusion, “It’s right here.”

  “No, baby. Its body is here but its soul is gone. Somebody helped it across the veil. They helped to make sure it went safely. That’s what we do.”

  Her face crumbled, “So it die?”

  “Yes, sweetie,” her mom told her, kissing her head and moving back to her paints. “You should put it back where you found it, or have the twins help you bury it.”

  “It should no die. Old things die. This widdle, see?” she stretched as far as her little arms could reach so her mother could really examine the bird.

  “Ember, honey, sometimes things die even when they are little.”

  She scrunched up her face and carried the little bird back to where she sat on the other side of the tree. Kai and Tristin came to sit next to her.

  “What happened to it?” Tristin asked, brow furrowed in concentration, stroking its belly.

  “It’s dead. See?” Kai said, poking it gently.

  “That’s sad,” Tristin said.

  She placed it on the ground and pressed her finger to its chest. It convulsed beneath her fingers. They looked at each other and giggled. She did it again.

  “Do it again,” Kai said.

  She did. It jumped, squirming, eyes flying open. Kai and Tristin jumped back in surprise but she scooped it up.

  She ran to her mother, excited. “Look, mommy, I fixed it.”

  Her mother gasped, dropping her paintbrush. “Ember, what did you do? How did you-”

  “You are fond of cemeteries, aren’t you, Luv?”

  Her eyes flew open; jaw clenching as Mace’s face swam into view and her mother’s voice faded on the wind. Something flared to life low in her belly. She tensed, muscles and tendons straining as she gripped the roots of the tree, vision bleeding red.

  She was on fire, skin so hot she felt it might blister and peel from her, leaving nothing but this sudden seething rage. Her face contorted, lips pulling back in a snarl.

  He took a step back, arching one brow. “Oh, I’ve made you cross with me,” he said. “That wasn’t my intention, Lu-” She cut her eyes at him. “Ember,” he corrected, pulling a face at his error. “My apologies. It’s just not every day you find somebody meditating in a cemetery. I thought maybe you’d like to talk about it.”

  She tried to speak but found she was mute. Power poured into her, filling her up until her lungs felt scorched. She was drowning on dry land and, once again, she was helpless to stop it. Mace continued talking as if nothing was wrong but she knew he felt her struggle. She knew it like she knew the sound of her own heartbeat, like the way it felt to draw breath into her lungs. She knew, somehow, he was connecte
d to her.

  His voice hitched on a shaky laugh, “Come on, Ember, you can’t stay mad at me forever.”

  She could. She would. She wanted to tell him so but when she opened her mouth it was not her voice, “Who are you?”

  Mace recoiled, eyes narrowing. Ember watched it all, a spectator in her own body.

  “Mace,” he said, “and you are…?”

  “We are infinite. We are everything and nothing.”

  Mace’s eyebrow’s shot upwards, “Ah, I see.” He knelt before her cupping her face before dropping his hands as if burned. He eased back, “Um, approximately how many of you are in there. No need to be exact, a rough estimate will do.”

  The cackle that echoed from her lips scared her but the fear on Mace’s face frightened her more. He didn’t seem the type to panic easily. What if he left her? What would they do to her?

  He didn’t run. He looked her right in the eyes, “Ember, luv, I know you’re in there. Whatever is happening you have to fight.”

  She wanted to tell him he was right. She was right there but they wouldn’t let her. “She won’t fight. She has no idea what she’s doing. But you, you know, don’t you. We know you. We need you. She needs you,” the voice told him in the singsong tone of a demented child. Mace had no idea what the hell was going on.

  His smile was tight across his face, “I’m flattered, of course, but I’m afraid I will have to respectfully decline. I’m already gainfully employed.”

  The thing inside of Ember screeched in fury, “You don’t get to choose.”

  Her fists hit the ground and it rumbled beneath her, tiny furrows forming on the ground. Mace looked alarmed. She was scaring him. Somewhere in the darkest part of her, she found his fear oddly satisfying; or maybe her magic did.

  She did it again, her fists causing the ground to tremble, tipping over an already crumbling headstone.

  “My apologies,” he started, leaning back, hands in the air. “I’m at your service. Always happy to help.”

  “She’s not strong enough for this. We’ll burn her from the inside if you don’t help. You know it’s true, but perhaps you don’t care about her?”

  Ember felt herself gain control enough to stare at her hands, fascinated with the sparks arching between her fingers. She blinked heavily.

  “Do you see this?” she whispered watching as her fingertips blistered and blackened. She blinked hard against the sweat pouring into her eyes. She vaguely registered the pain in her hands.

  “I do see it, yes. Um, I think it’s important you relax, Luv. Possibly try breathing?”

  “I don’t want to. I just want this. We just want this.” She thrust her abused hands into the earth beneath her. Her relief was instant, like completing a circuit. All that power poured from her into the ground below; something like roots wrapped at her wrists, holding her to the earth. As the energy flowed from her into the ground, it felt like she was dying, life draining from her but she just couldn’t bring herself to care.

  29

  MACE

  Mace stared at the girl before him; not at all sure Ember was even in there anymore. Her eyes bled black and her head fell backwards, looking up at nothing. Well that was certainly not good. Whatever had a hold of Ember was draining her. The ground trembled, headstones crumbling, tiny cracks appearing along the ground like lightning bolts, widening enough to swallow a chunk of concrete.

  If he didn’t stop this, they were going to swallow this cemetery and take the two of them with it. But he had no idea how to stop it. He could run. Nobody had ever accused him of being a hero, a benefit that came with having no soul. He knew even before he finished the thought he wouldn’t go. He had no idea why. Maybe it was the way it taunted him. Maybe it was the way she’d looked so helpless. He wasn’t ready to think about the why just yet.

  “Alright, Luv,” he told her, inching closer, “I am hoping you are still in there somewhere because you are going to have to help me out just a little. I think this is going to hurt like hell.”

  He plunged his hands into the dirt, just over hers. Whatever bound her hands below the surface, loosened, allowing him to take hold, palm to palm.

  The pain was instantaneous, roaring through him like thousands of razor blades rending his flesh. It punched the breath from his lungs. The bindings that once held Ember closed to embrace them both, sealing his fate. Not the first time, he was grateful for his immortality. There was no escaping now.

  “Ember, I need you to hear me.” He could feel blisters forming where they connected, “Come on, Luv. I know you are in there.”

  He did the only thing he could think of. He called his own magic to the surface. He’d channeled her energy in the cemetery; maybe he could do it now. He dropped his guard, letting her in. The magic running through her hit him like an atom bomb, wrenching him backwards. If not for their bound hands, she may have cast him out. He clenched his teeth as her magic felt his and fought back, chewing through his magic and trying to replace it with her own.

  He’d been in this world long enough to know his magic was powerful. This power-her power-was like nothing he’d felt before. It seemed like far too much for one person to hold.

  “Ember,” he said, grunting against the pain. “You have to work with me here. If you don’t reign this in, you will hurt somebody.” Most likely him.

  “I know you don’t want to hurt anybody. That’s not the type of girl you are. You are one of those do-gooder types. I know it.”

  He talked to distract himself from the pain and secretly hoping he might find a way past her wall of magic. If he kept talking, maybe she would actually hear him from wherever it was she retreated to when the magic took over.

  “Think of your pack. Ember, just look at what you are doing. Whoever’s in there with you, don’t let them win. Can you do that? Can you look at me? Look at anything? Do you really want to hurt somebody, Ember?”

  Her head snapped forward, black eyes staring through him. He flinched. She lurched towards him and it took a moment for his brain to register that she wasn’t attacking him but she’d passed out, head on his shoulder, body limp. The shaking stopped, the bonds that tied them together loosening enough for him to catch her as she toppled over.

  He was soaked with sweat. His skin burned and he sucked air into his abused lungs, waiting for the pain to fade. He leaned against the tree, rearranging Ember so her head rested against this thigh.

  He pushed her hair back from her face, tapping her cheek lightly, “Ember?” He slapped her lightly again. “Ember, luv, just open your eyes and let me know you’re…you? Please,” he whispered the last part, embarrassed.

  No response. He peeled open one of her eyelids, relieved to see those otherworldly violet eyes. This close he couldn’t help but notice the tiny flecks of yellow around her pupil. He pressed his fingers against her neck. Her pulse was steady. She lived. That was something.

  He held up her hand examining her fingertips. They were pink, the blistered black skin gone somehow. His hands hadn’t faired quite so well but he’d worry about that later.

  He had no idea what to do with her now. He pushed a stray curl from her face, letting his finger trace over the freckles on her nose. She was quite lovely, when she wasn’t trying to flay the skin from his bones.

  She sighed, turning her face into his hand with something akin to a purr. He swallowed hard, shoving down the strange feeling something had changed between them. He didn’t have time for it. This power, whatever it was, would kill her or somebody else. He’d never seen somebody so consumed by her magic. She was an enigma.

  The voice that spoke with him wasn’t hers but she showed no other signs of possession. She didn’t hold any powers to suggest she was a witch or a reaper but there was nothing else she could be.

  “What the hell did you do to my cousin?”

  Mace’s head snapped up, grimacing at the
intrusion. He plastered a smile on his face, “Well, if it isn’t the boy reaper and his human sidekick.”

  “Get the hell away from her,” the human said. “What did you do to her?”

  “I didn’t do anything. She had a little…outburst,” he told them, gesturing to the damage around them. “I took care of it. She’s now comfortably sleeping it off. You’re welcome.”

  They took in the fissures opened along the ground and then back to the girl in his lap.

  “You’re saying Ember did this?” Kai asked.

  “You know she did.”

  The human looked startled. “Why was she out here?” he asked nobody in particular.

  “I’m afraid when I found her she wasn’t in the mood for chatting. I supposed I could have left her here and hightailed it out of town before she turned this place into a sinkhole but I thought I’d at least try to help.”

  The other one snorted, “Right. You helped her.”

  He said nothing.

  The human moved forward, “Wait. Did you help her?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s hard to help somebody when you don’t know what they are but I did what I could. It would be helpful if you told me exactly what she is. Reaper? Witch? Hybrid?”

  They ignored the question, the human asking, “So, what does that mean? What exactly did you do?”

  “I just grabbed her hands and hung on. I tried to counteract her magic with mine. If I wasn’t already dead, I’d say it very well may have killed me.”

  They processed that bit of information well. The human stared at him for a long time like he was examining him under a microscope, finally asking, “What are you?”

  He contemplated not telling them but really he had no reason to lie. “I’m sure you think I’m going to play hard to get but since I can’t actually die, I’ll tell you. I’m sluagh.”