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

by Martina McAtee

  The girl stood, patiently waiting for a reaction like a true psychopath. Ember didn’t take the bait, gaze tugging back to Mace. She knew this would be easier for them if she was mad, but they couldn’t begin to know how little control she would have if she let her power go unchecked. The last thing they wanted was to see Ember when she lost control.

  She closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, imagining herself sitting with Mace in the woods. Trying to remember the way his hands would run up and down her arms, how he’d whisper for her to just focus on him. Why was he here? They couldn’t kill him. Was he part of their plan all along or had they seen an opportunity and taken it? Had she done this to him? She angrily swiped at the tears on her cheeks. Where the hell was Tristin? She prayed this wasn’t all for nothing. Please don’t be dead, Tristin, she begged silently.

  “Astrid, what are you doing? I can’t do what you want. I don’t know how. I’m not a witch.” Astrid set her jaw, looking to the floor. Ember took a wobbly step forward. “I know you get that. I know somewhere deep down you know what you’re asking of me is impossible. I would do it if I could but he’s gone. He told me he’s happy. He said he’s with your mom.”

  Astrid’s head snapped up then, “You’re lying. You shut the hell up.”

  Stella stepped forward, putting a comforting hand on her friend but saying to Ember, “We can do this one of two ways, one, I drag your cousin out here and we all watch while she cuts out her own organs one by one until she dies, or two, you can do the spell exactly as we tell you and we all win.” She looked at Mace, face falling in mock sadness, “Well, except your little soul eater boyfriend, I’m afraid his role in this production has come to an end.”

  Ember’s hands sparked and she clenched them into fists, “Why are you doing this? You know better than to mess with this sort of thing. Tristin had to have told you what happened last time? What I did.”

  Stella rolled her eyes. “We don’t have time for this. Search her and let’s get started.”

  Astrid looked uneasy but resigned, “Ember, you’re out of options.”

  79

  TRISTIN

  Tristin woke to tearful shouting, head pounding and mouth so dry she had to peel her tongue from the roof of her mouth. It took her a minute to remember. Her hand went to where Tate hit her, wincing at the tender spot. Allister had sent him to kidnap her. She lurched to her feet, only to have her arm snagged. She tried to keep her feet under her as her assailant dragged her a short distance before shoving her back to the floor. She hissed as pain shot through her shoulder.

  This time she moved slowly, struggling to sit up. They were in the school gym. Was that Mace? He sat, head down, hands hanging limp at his sides. Shadows flickered over the walls, candles the only light. She hoped nobody had to read for this little ritual or they were all in trouble. She doubted anybody had bothered to consecrate a flashlight.

  She heard Ember’s voice then, shaky and tearful, pleading with somebody. Tristin blinked to clear her vision wondering absently if she had a concussion. She expected to hear Allister’s voice echoing in the empty gym but instead it was just Astrid…and Stella.

  Astrid was really going through with it. She pushed down the momentary elation she felt. It wasn’t real. The ritual couldn’t work…but what if it did, a voice whispered in her head. What if she could have Quinn back? A thousand butterflies fluttered in her chest. They were quickly squashed as she watched one of the hooded figures shove her cousin into the circle of what Tristin could only assume was blood.

  Astrid noticed her then. “Oh, good, you’re awake. Glad to see you made it for the show.”

  “Astrid,” Tristin said. “Maybe everybody’s right? This isn’t going to work.”

  Astrid looked at her like she was stupid. “Why? I have everything I need for the spell. I have the necromancer, the blood, the bone, the ingredients,” she pointed at Mace, “and the empty vessel.”

  Tristin’s eyes darted to Mace and then to Ember who looked at them in confusion, “Empty vessel?”

  “There was no way my father would have left Quinn’s body intact. I took what I could but his soul needs a body.” She pointed at Mace. “His body has no soul. It’s kismet.”

  “No,” Ember said, face contorting. “No. You want me to jam Quinn’s soul into Mace’s body? You’re sick.”

  “No, I’m practical. I really don’t understand your fascination with this…creature.”

  “I n-need him,” Ember told them. “I can’t control my magic without him. Do you have any idea the damage I could do? Do you understand what I’m capable of?”

  Tristin couldn’t do this anymore. She liked her cousin, hell maybe someday she’d grow to love her but she was absolutely clueless. This whole time the information was right under Ember’s nose and she just wouldn’t see it. All anybody had to do was look at Mace’s condition to know how wrong Ember was.

  “Don’t be stupid, Ember.” Tristin said, all eyes swinging to her. “Don’t you get it? Even now he’s lying to you. He had the opportunity to come clean about everything but chose not to.”

  “What do you mean?” Ember asked, shooting Tristin a look so filled with dread it made Tristin’s heart hurt. She stuffed the feeling away. Ember needed to know this.

  Tristin pulled herself to her feet, shuddering as she swayed, “Meaning you don’t need him.” She took two steps forward. “He needs you. Do you understand? He’s the parasite and you’re the host. Your magic controls him. Your magic feeds him. You order, he obeys. Your magic bound him to you like a slave.”

  Ember shook her head, “You’re wrong. I can’t control my powers without him.”

  Tristin growled in frustration. “Look around, Ember. You are controlling your powers and it’s not because he’s here, it’s because you’ve had control all along.” Ember stared at her, mouth agape but Tristin charged on. “Outside the tattoo parlor, your magic started to spiral out of control but as soon as you were distracted, poof, it disappeared. You’ve had control this whole time. The binding spell has worn off. These flares you have they’re nothing more than…supernatural panic attacks.”

  “No. You’re wrong. That can’t be true.”

  Mace’s head jerked upright as Stella came forward. “Why don’t we ask him?”

  Mace blinked heavy lids at Ember, grimacing as he swallowed.

  “Speak, sluagh,” Stella commanded. “Tell her the truth.”

  “Is it true?” Ember asked.

  “Yes,” Mace told her.

  “So you don’t care about me at all?”

  “Of course I do,” Mace rasped. “Just because your magic holds me to you doesn’t mean you control my feelings.”

  Stella rolled her eyes. “Please. He has no soul. He is literally incapable of feeling anything for anybody. He’s a liar. He is beholden to you.” Ember flinched at the words but said nothing, staring at Mace with this sad sort of longing. Tristin knew that feeling.

  Stella wasn’t finished. “I know that sounds like a pretty word but all it means is that he only feels what you want him to. He only does what you tell him to. He’s a shell. Sluagh have no feelings because they have no soul. They are monsters. Anything he feels for you, he only feels because you want him to. Any emotions he has he only has because you give them to him.”

  Her cousin nodded her head as if Stella’s answer made too much sense. Tristin knew then, the witches had won. Ember would do what they wanted.

  80

  EMBER

  It made sense in a way that crushed her heart. She had created this whole thing in her mind, a three dimensional delusion. She’d created a supernatural boyfriend to protect her and keep her safe. It was the cruelest sort of joke. She wanted to curl up in a ball and just die. She didn’t even try to stop the tears this time.

  Mace spoke, voice raspy and so weak, “Ember, that’s not true. If I only did wha
t you wanted, if I only felt what you wanted, I wouldn’t have been able to lie to you. The very fact that I kept this from you proves that I care for you.”

  She wanted to believe his twisted logic but how could she? How could she trust herself or her magic? Everything was so upside down.

  “I don’t know what to believe.” She told him.

  “You do what you need to do to get out of here. Do the spell, save Tristin, bring back the human if you can but don’t ever believe I wanted to hurt you or that my feelings weren’t my own. I don’t know how I feel what I feel, but I know the feelings are mine.”

  “You can’t be sure. There’s no way for you to know.” She told him. He had to know that.

  “Ember, please,” he begged, the look in his eyes almost too much.

  She pushed the sweaty mass of hair out of his face. “I don’t want to do this,” she whispered.

  “Well, nobody cares what you want,” Stella snapped. “We need to get started, we are losing the moon.”

  “Gather the ingredients,” Astrid ordered.

  “Wait, we almost forgot the most important thing,” Stella said, tapping her nail on her temple. “I was so caught up in our little teen drama that I forgot about this.”

  She waved her hand and Ember’s eyes grew wide. She tried to run but Stella’s magic held her firm. A figure approached with a long piece of iron, smoldering at the end. “No, no, no, no,” Ember gasped, shaking her head. “Stella, no. Oh my God, don’t do this.”

  “You should have just gotten the tattoo,” Stella murmured.

  Astrid’s eyes widened, “I thought you were going to find another way?”

  “Do you want your brother back or not,” Stella snapped. Astrid dropped her gaze, nodding.

  Fear engulfed Ember’s body, metallic taste flooding her mouth. “Don’t move,” Stella told her, laughing at her own joke. She could only stand there as Stella circled her. She yanked down the sleeve of her shirt, revealing her shoulder.

  “I’ll try to make this quick,” was the only warning Ember received before pain exploded throughout her body and the smell of burning flesh permeated the air. Adrenaline thundered through her veins, her knees going weak.

  “There, all done,” Stella said, voice chipper.

  Ember could see the brand. She could see it no longer touched her skin but it felt like it was still there, burning through layers of fat and muscle.

  Astrid moved forward and pressed her fingers against Ember’s neck, muttering something in another language. The relief was instantaneous.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, unable to help herself.

  “I need you functioning,” Astrid muttered. “Get everybody in place.”

  There was a flurry of motion as they placed a small table, a bowl and several ingredients in the middle of the circle.

  “Close the circle,” Stella barked. The circle flared to life, glowing red.

  The robed figures took their place around the outer edges of the circle but Astrid spoke only to her, “Put everything in the bowl starting left to right. Use them all. When I tell you, say the incantation.”

  Ember’s hands shook, “It’s not too late to stop this, Astrid. I don’t want to do this. I don’t care if he’s lying to me. Nobody deserves this.”

  Footsteps fell heavy outside the circle and one last robed figure took his place. His robe was black, a heavy piece of metal hung from his neck. He didn’t try to hide his face. Allister. Ember stumbled away, almost tripping on the table.

  He raised his hand with a smile. “Relax, everything is going to be okay, Ember.”

  She looked at him like he was insane, “Right, you only want to kill me and steal my power.”

  “I may have been a bit…hasty in my quest for power. I simply want my son back.”

  “Don’t any of you care that he’s happy where he is?”

  “You shut up,” Astrid screamed. “You don’t get a say in this. You will bring my brother back.”

  “Calm yourself, dear. Ember’s going to help us. Aren’t you?”

  He moved to Tristin, gripping her shoulder tight. Tristin flinched and Ember looked to Mace again. Even if he didn’t care about her, she cared about him no matter how stupid that sounded.

  “Ember, I know this is confusing for you, dear, but he doesn’t love you. He can’t love you. He’s evil. A killer.”

  Allister looked to Mace. “Does she know? Have you told her the truth?”

  “What truth?” Ember asked. What now? She didn’t know how much more she could take. “What are you talking about?”

  Allister shook his head, “I knew you couldn’t know. Nobody would be that blindly devoted to the boy who killed her father.”

  “What?” Ember gasped, the breath punched from her lungs at the weight of his words. That wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t possible. She shook her head. She turned on Mace forcing his head up. “I’m not even going to ask if it’s true. You’d just lie to me anyway.”

  Mace looked past her to Allister for a long minute before turning his gaze to her, his eyes soft. “I was doing my job. I didn’t know he was your father. I didn’t even know you.”

  She slapped him hard twice before stumbling back like she was the one who’d received the blow. She looked at Tristin. “Did you know?”

  Tristin’s eyes widened, “What? Ember, no. I swear.”

  Mace looked up at her like it took every bit of strength he possessed, “Just start the spell, Ember.”

  81

  MACE

  This time she didn’t fight them. Allister’s little revelation burning away the last of her resolve. It was his own fault. He should have told her. He just never knew how. It wasn’t exactly something he could have dropped into a conversation. In truth, he knew she would have pushed him away. He was selfish. He was soulless. He was evil.

  Even now, he still used her. Being in her presence lessened his pain. Her magic calling off its attack now that he was returned to his rightful place by her side. Her magic couldn’t do much for the wound at his abdomen but for once all that scar tissue had protected him, keeping Stella from forcing him to watch as he lost his entrails to a dirty gymnasium floor. He could deal with the physical pain. It was a relief compared to the way Ember looked at him now.

  He wouldn’t die in agony. He wouldn’t die at all, he reminded himself. Dying implied moving on…he would simply cease to be. Blinking out of existence was preferable to the look of betrayal on her face. He didn’t want that look to be the last thing he saw. Yes, he was selfish but he’d rather leave this world with her forgiveness.

  He watched her sink into herself, letting her power take her. He didn’t blame her for hiding, the world betrayed her at every turn. Her features softened, expression vacant as her magic wound around her. His magic valiantly tried to rise to the call of hers but Stella still held him bound by her witchery.

  Outside the circle, the chanting began, old and archaic. Latin. Ember’s motions were jerky, stilted. She fought to do as she was told while keeping her magic at the surface. He could feel her power pulling, tugging at her. It didn’t like this. It felt…off. This was not soul magic. This was death magic and her magic knew the difference.

  But as she worked, her movements became more rhythmic, the coven’s chanting more frantic, until Mace was almost certain even Ember’s magic was not in control. He had no idea what was happening but the shifting of energy was palpable. Each ingredient added, seemed to suck more oxygen from the room. The witches swayed on their feet, Ember’s eyes fluttered back in her head. He’d only seen things like this in hoodoo rituals. Whatever they had invited into the circle had accepted Ember’s invitation sevenfold. By the time she reached the last ingredient-Quinn’s blood-she no longer needed Astrid’s whispered instructions.

  She closed her eyes, words pouring from her lips. Mace went cold. That was n
ot Latin. It was older. Much, much older. When she opened her eyes again, those perfect violet eyes bled black. It was like he had a lead weight on his chest, like he was suffocating. It took longer than it should for him to realize it was fear, not for himself but for Ember, wherever she was in there.

  She walked to him, bowl in hand, yanking the remains of his shirt apart. He didn’t know if it was the layers of scarring or the gaping wound across his abdomen but she blinked as if her body rejected the sight. She hesitated, swallowing hard, fighting whatever force worked within her.

  He ignored the way his chest squeezed, shoving down the brief moment of hope that this would end in any way but with him gone and Ember lost to whatever evil force had accepted her invitation. He could only hope she hadn’t invoked Osiris as Astrid had hoped.

  Ember’s face contorted and he saw the moment she broke through this other magic’s hold, misery etched across her face. For a moment, she looked like she might falter. Her hesitation was enough. It was enough for him to know she cared enough to not want to do this, to fight this power. But she had to do this. It was the only way for this to end. If she failed, everybody died.

  “It’s okay, Luv.”

  Her fingers moved lower, hovering over the jagged cut before she pressed her fingers inside, face pale, eyes haunted. He tried to mask the grunt of pain but her gaze shot to his again as she dipped her bloody fingers into the bowl, mixing his blood with Quinn’s.

  He closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the feel of her fingers as she began to paint the mixture across his chest, fingers far more gentle than any others ever were. She painted his forehead, his lips and his left cheek. She paused when she reached his right. It was the final step before the final incantation.

  Her hand shook, and he knew this entity, this power squatting inside Ember was playing with her. It wanted her to suffer. To see this sacrifice. It even let her magic open their connection. Her face crumpled, tears spilling down her cheeks.