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

by Martina McAtee

  He got to his feet and Ember crisscrossed her legs and assumed a meditative position. “Try hard not to blow up any freshly dead, Luv, it smells awful and I don’t want to pick bone fragments out of your hair…again.”

  She opened one eye and stuck her tongue out at him. He smiled and stalked off into the woods. He didn’t make it more than a couple hundred yards when he hit his knees with a gasp. Pain seared his back, like an iron pressed against his flesh. He fought to suck air into his lungs, eyes clenched shut, sweat pouring down his face. What the hell?

  Ember. This was Ember’s magic. He crawled backwards trying to cross back over whatever invisible barrier he’d inadvertently breached. He pulled himself to the tree, catching his breath and resting his head against the trunk as the pain deteriorated. That hadn’t happened in days and it had not been that painful. Had Allister’s spell finally worn off or was Ember’s magic just reminding him not to wander too far? He couldn’t be sure but he did know her magic was growing and with it, her hold on him. It was only a matter of time before she realized it too.

  He flicked the lock screen on his phone and jabbed the last number.

  “Where have you been?” Allister asked by way of greeting. His manners needed work.

  “Consoling a group of grieving teenagers while they dealt with the death of a close friend. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

  Mace knew it was nasty but it irked him that Allister seemed to care so little about Quinn’s death. A father should care about the loss of his son.

  “Don’t presume to tell me how to grieve over my son. I don’t need a lecture from a demon.”

  “Why does everybody keep calling me that? I’m not a demon. I’m a soul eater. It’s a subtle distinction, but I feel it’s an important one.”

  “Did you pick up the package from Shelby?”

  “The blade of Osiris?” Mace wiped sweat from his eyes, grimacing as he moved. “I did have the blade, yes.”

  “You had the blade?”

  “Yes, as in I once possessed it, but no longer do.” Mace let his eyes close.

  Allister raged. “What the hell did you do with it?”

  “I guess that depends on why you want it?”

  “It’s none of your business. You work for me.”

  “I’m more of an independent contractor and since I’ve yet to be paid for this job I reserve the right to renegotiate terms at my leisure. So, I’ll ask again, what are you going to do with the blade?”

  “I’m going to do what is necessary to protect this town. That energy is too much for a girl her age. I’ll use the blade to…unburden her.”

  Mace laughed at that. He couldn’t help it. How stupid did he think he was? “I know how the blade works. You can only take her magic by stabbing her through the heart. Now, I’m no medical professional, but I’m fairly certain that’s a fatal blow.” There was silence on the other end, which Mace took to mean he was correct. “Now, seeing as how Ember was to be my payment for services rendered, I’m afraid that leaves me feeling as though our business arrangement has run its course. Consider this my resignation.”

  “You will give me that dagger. I paid a lot of money for it.”

  He smiled. “And if I don’t? Then what? What do you think you can do to me? I’m immortal.”

  “Ember isn’t, her pack isn’t. I have no use for any of them. The Grove will return and they will listen when I tell them about the magic running through her. Do you think they will let her live if she’s channeling thousands of dead souls?”

  “Either way she’s dead. Why should I give you the blade to ensure her death? You also assume I won’t kill you long before you could do a thing to the pack. You are a terrible negotiator.”

  “You bring me that blade or I will make sure that Ember watches as every single person she loves dies a slow, painful death and I will make sure she knows you had the ability to stop it and chose not to.”

  “You really are afraid of her,” Mace said, marveling in this new knowledge. “What is it about her that frightens you? I can’t quite figure it out. Is it because she has so much natural magic it just pours out of her? Is it because she can control all things dead? Maybe, just maybe, it’s the fact that she doesn’t actually need her own power.”

  He wasn’t sure if what he’s saying was correct but the more he spoke the more sense it made. He thought about his conversation with Kai the other day and the story Kai had heard from Tate. “You know, a friend of mine recently told me that Belle Haven is a sort of supernatural radio tower. I think Ember scares you because you realize she’s a transmitter. She doesn’t need her own power because she can literally syphon it from all those dead witches buried here.”

  “You have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “Oh, I think I do. Now that I think about it, it actually makes perfect sense. That’s why you want her dead. She’s an enormous threat even without her own active powers. Imagine the chaos a seventeen year old girl could cause with legions of the dead at her disposal, unlimited power.”

  “Exactly. She’s dangerous. We have to stop her.”

  Mace agreed that Ember untrained was dangerous. Her magic failed more often than it succeeded but that didn’t mean she couldn’t learn control. Despite what the Grove said, there had to be a reason why three reapers were born on the same day. There had to be. Maybe it was something awful. Maybe their birth was the signal of some kind of paranormal calamity but he would let it run its course.

  “If it comes to following her or following you, I choose her.”

  “You only say that because her magic has a hold on you. Don’t you see? She is controlling you.” The pain in his back told him Allister was correct but he didn’t comment. “The more time she stays here, the stronger she will grow and the more of a hold she will have over you. Don’t you find your feelings for her odd? You have no soul yet you protect her like you love her. Have you ever felt anything like what you feel for her? This desperate need to protect her is her magic. It’s not you. You don’t want to do this. Give me the blade and let me end this. You’re making a huge mistake.”

  He stood, wincing as he brushed off his jeans. “That isn’t going to happen. Our arrangement is over. You won’t find the blade so don’t look for it.”

  Playtime was over. They needed to kick up her training. There was no way she’d be able to protect herself if she didn’t get this under control. He needed to push her. He needed to figure out how to help her. “And so we are very clear, if you attempt to harm Ember or the pack, I’ll show you why hell didn’t want me.”

  60

  TRISTIN

  A week had passed since Quinn’s death. Seven whole days and she still felt like she had a hole in her chest. She was such a cliché. She slept with his hat. She took her aggression out on the heavy bag. She tried not to hate herself for never kissing him. She knew Quinn’s intensions were good when he’d given Kai that message for her but it just pissed her off. She wanted him here flirting awkwardly not sending her swoon worthy love letters from the other side.

  She stabbed the grape on her plate with a fork and brought it halfway to her lips before she realized she just couldn’t eat it. She sighed and let it fall from her fork. She wasn’t hungry but Isa made her eat at least twice a day. She eyed the door; she’d be back in the kitchen any minute. She wrapped the pieces of orange in a napkin and put them in the garbage, leaving the grapes and two apple slices. She could probably manage that.

  The door opened and Ember and Mace burst in, Neoma on their heels with Romero. Neoma was always following the two of them around lately. Tristin suspected Neoma actually followed the dog. Neoma loved that stupid dog, maybe even more than Ember did.

  Tristin didn’t get the obsession. He wouldn’t eat dog food. He was the size of a small pony. His bark could rattle the whole house. He was constantly under people’s feet, following them around,
tongue lolling in his mouth, hoping somebody would offer up their scraps.

  “-need to concentrate.” Mace was saying, “You’re all over the place. We have to figure out how to control this.”

  Ember whipped around, eyes narrowed. “I’m doing the best I can. I don’t go all creepy demon eyes anymore. I haven’t blown up anything in two days. I raised Chester without a problem,” she jabbed a finger at the mangy grey cat basking in the kitchen windowsill. He hissed at Ember as though he knew she was talking about him. He hated Ember, which made Tristin like the cat just a little bit more.

  He was the third animal Ember had brought back from the grave. The second, a bird, had flown away as soon as she’d pulled him from the other side. They hadn’t been that lucky with Chester. The cat had a major attitude problem but Ember refused to leave him to fend for himself. She’d almost blown up the truck when Rhys offhandedly suggested they try reversing the process to see if she could also send the animals back across the veil.

  “I’m not going to get any better if you don’t ease up.” Ember snapped, opening the pantry and snagging the almonds. She flopped onto the bench in the breakfast nook and started munching. Ember didn’t have a problem with her appetite at all. She ate all the time, at home, at school, in the car, in the cemetery. She ate more than the wolves. Tristin assumed that yanking helpless family pets from the other side gave her an appetite. She always came back ravenous.

  Tristin listened to them bicker.

  “I’m just trying to help,” Mace retorted back. “I won’t be here forever.”

  Ember rolled her eyes. “Won’t that just be a tragedy?”

  Mace loomed over her, exasperated. “Why are you being such a…brat today?”

  “Just stop pushing me,” Ember told him.

  A weird expression passed across Mace’s face. “Okay, right,” he held up his hands in surrender. “Done.”

  Isa came in from the family room glancing warily at Mace and Ember. She pulled three defrosted chickens from the fridge and set them in the sink for dinner. She puttered around the kitchen surreptitiously eyeing Tristin’s plate. Tristin looked at Isa and stuffed a grape in her mouth chomping obnoxiously.

  The alpha sighed and continued dragging things out for their meal. She opened the drawer in the fridge to fish a cheese cube out for Romero when he nosed at her hip. He huffed his contentment, flopping himself onto the mat in front of the oven, forcing Isa to step over him.

  The back door opened again as Kai came in, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the glass panels. He threw his backpack on the floor and kicked it. He’d separated from them straight after school. He’d said he had to do something…for Quinn.

  Everybody stopped, staring at him.

  “What’s wrong?” Isa asked, brow drooping.

  “I went to see Astrid.”

  Ember’s gaze slid to Tristin and Mace hissed as her powers zapped his fingers. “Ow.”

  “Sorry,” Ember said, not sounding sorry at all.

  “How is daddy’s little psycho?” Tristin didn’t care if she sounded bitter. Kai might have to deliver Quinn’s final message to Astrid but Tristin didn’t have to like it. She was horrible to Quinn. She didn’t deserve to be one of his last thoughts. None of them did. Not even her. Especially not her.

  “Devastated, I didn’t even get to talk to her for more than two seconds and her father was there the whole time.” He told them. “Allister isn’t giving Quinn a funeral.”

  Tristin’s fork clattered onto her plate, “What?”

  “He said it would look bad for the family.” Kai sneered. “He thinks that it’s less humiliating for Quinn to not have a funeral because he died a...criminal.”

  A sharp pain exploded behind Tristin’s left eye and she clenched her fists. “I hate him.”

  Isa scrubbed her hand through her hair, mouth drawn. “Everybody grieves differently, Trist.”

  “Quinn deserves to be remembered. He deserves that. Allister has no right to decide that he doesn’t.” She clamped her teeth so hard she thought they might shatter. “He shouldn’t get to decide who gets to say goodbye.”

  “So we say goodbye in our own way,” Wren said from the doorway of the family room. “Let’s give him a pack funeral.”

  Isa’s face split into a grin and she walked up and kissed him square on the mouth. Tristin rolled her eyes. You’d think he was coming back from the war not a grocery run with Rhys. “That is a great idea.”

  “What’s a pack funeral?” Ember asked around a bite of apple.

  “We build a bonfire, we tell stories, and we shift and run in the woods. We howl at the moon to honor of one of our own. Other packs come to pay their respects. We can invite the town. Hell, invite the whole damn state. Quinn was one of us. He deserves a proper sendoff.”

  Tristin’s head hurt a little less. Quinn would get a proper funeral by the people who really loved him.

  Rhys pushed past Wren, dropping twenty bags of groceries on the counter. “Thanks for the help, man.” Rhys said, glowering at Wren.

  “I don’t carry groceries,” Wren told him, smug smile in place. “Call it perks of marrying the alpha.”

  “I call it my sister’s marrying a douchebag.” Rhys dropped a kiss on Tristin’s head and then Isa’s. He’d been much more affectionate in the past week. It was weird, but in a good way. He seemed younger without that constant scowl on his face. He even almost smiled occasionally.

  Kai made a beeline for the groceries. He loved to rifle through the food before they put it away. Rhys snaked an arm around Kai’s chest and tugged, causing him to stumble backwards into him. Kai opened his mouth to protest but Rhys just kissed him hard once and let him go.

  Kai practically floated to the counter, dopey smile in place. Tristin’s heart clenched. It wasn’t like she wasn’t happy for her brother. He’d been waiting years for Rhys to get it together. He helped Kai cope with Quinn and that was great but she didn’t know how much more of the touchy feely stuff she could take. She knew she was being selfish but she just didn’t care. Watching them physically hurt her.

  “So when are we doing this?” Rhys asked.

  “Doing what?”

  Tristin’s lip curled at the new voice. She couldn’t believe the audacity. Who just walked into somebody’s house like that? She spun around on her stool and stared down Quinn’s sister. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

  Astrid looked at Isa, hesitant, half-turning towards the door like she might bolt. Isa glared at Tristin. “She doesn’t have to knock, she’s family.” Isa walked over and hugged her. “How are you, sweetheart? We haven’t seen you in forever.”

  Tristin rolled her eyes. Of course, they hadn’t. She’d decided she was way too good for them years ago.

  “Tired. Sad. Trying not to hate my dad.”

  Ember eyed the girl from the table, clearly still not over their run in at the school. Tristin pushed her plate away. No way was she eating now.

  Astrid flopped herself onto the stool at the opposite end of the counter as if she did it all the time. There was a time when Astrid had practically lived there. She was at their house as much as Quinn until it became clear Astrid would be the only one to inherit any magic. After that, her father hadn’t allowed her over anymore.

  She looked terrible. The girl hadn’t left her house without full hair and makeup since she was twelve but today she sat in a pair of grey sweatpants and a flannel shirt Tristin knew belonged to Quinn. She had her glasses on, wore no makeup and had her hair piled sloppily on her head. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Good, Tristin thought meanly, she wasn’t the only one sleep deprived.

  “What are you even doing here?” Tristin asked, exhausted.

  Astrid pointed to her bag, eyes haunted. “I was sleeping in Quinn’s room and there were a couple things I thought you might want.”

 
Tristin looked at the bag, startled.

  She blinked back sudden tears, chest squeezing so hard she felt like she was dying. She hated this. She spent every minute on the verge of tears. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She was not going to cry in front of Astrid. She didn’t think she’d ever feel whole again.

  “We’re giving Quinn a pack funeral.” Kai told Astrid, licking something off his finger.

  She looked at Isa, unsure. “Can…Can I come?”

  “Of course you can,” Isa said. “It’s for anybody who wants to say their goodbyes.”

  Ember’s head snapped up and she looked at Tristin with dread.

  “Except Stella.” All heads turned at the venom in Tristin’s voice. “You tell that witch to stay away. She is not allowed here after what she did to Ember.”

  Heads swiveled to look at Ember, their confusion obvious. Ember shrugged but said nothing, expression relieved. Ember got on her nerves but Stella was a nightmare. Besides, she could dislike her family but it didn’t mean anybody else could.

  Astrid looked contrite. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know she was going to do that. I promise it will just be me.”

  Ember nodded and Astrid turned back to look at Tristin. “Can we talk? In private?”

  Tristin narrowed her eyes at her. “Porch?”

  Astrid nodded. When she stood, Romero lumbered up to her staring at her with big soulful cow eyes, probably hoping to scam a new person out of food.

  Astrid’s eyes widened and she looked to Ember. “Wow. He’s huge. Is this…is this the one you…” she gestured at Ember vaguely unable to say it. Ember nodded, stuffing a cookie into her mouth.

  “Ember,” Isa said. “Slow down. Dinner’s in an hour.”

  “I’ll eat,” Ember promised reaching for another cookie. Isa shook her head.

  Astrid stared for a long time at Romero, fascinated. Finally, Tristin said, “You wanted to talk?”