Ember

by Jessica Sorensen

  “Wake up.” Someone pats my face. “Em, open your freaking eyes. You’re scaring me.”

  My eyes roll open to the grey sky, Raven’s sapphire eyes, and a thousand wilting roses surrounding my head and drifting in the air. The angel statue stares down at me as I gradually sit up and rub the dirt from my skin. I twist my arms and stretch my legs.

  Raven sighs and leans back to give me breathing room. “Holy shit, Em. What happened?”

  Every single tree within a quarter mile radius is dead, dried out, and stripped of their leaves. The grass is charred to a crisp and the dirt is cracked out like desert sand.

  Did I do this?

  “I have no idea…” I press my hand over my beating heart. “How did you find me?”

  She holds up the necklace and points back at the hill. “This was lying on the side of the road up there.” She hands it to me and I clip it back on. Then she helps me to my feet.

  Her death is as black as the night sky—I can’t feel it. But I can feel her life pumping through her veins.

  “I was hit by a car… I think.” My brain is hazy, but I remember tumbling down the hill. “I’m not sure… Can you just take me home?”

  She studies me with uneasiness in her eye. “I think we should take you to a doctor.”

  I shake my arms, checking for pain. “No doctors. I just want to go home.”

  She wraps her arm around my lower back. Her death is silent, but her life whispers to me: Take me, take me, take me.

  It takes a while, but we accomplish the walk back and make it to the top of the hill where the trees are blooming with life again. Her car is parked on the side of the road with the engine running and the driver’s door open.

  I wiggle from her arms, feeling liberated. “Maybe I should walk home.”

  “Get in the car,” she orders sternly, with tired bags under her eyes. “You need to go back home. There’s officially a curfew in affect now that Farrah’s body was found.”

  Maybe the same person who killed her is trying to kill me. I hop in the car and slam the door.

  She sits in the driver’s seat and clips her seatbelt locked. Then she leans over the console and clips mine. She pulls out onto the road. “I really, really think you should go see a doctor—you look terrible.”

  “I’m fine.” I pull a rose from my hair and run my fingers along the dried out petals, fascinated with its lack of luster. “A car just bumped me a little and I tripped down the hill.”

  “Yeah, right.” She shifts her car and speeds down the highway, the tires squealing. “You don’t just trip after a car bumps into you—you had to have been run over.”

  “I’m not going to the doctor,” I say. “So take me home.”

  She flinches at my hostile tone and doesn’t say a word for the rest of the drive.

  ***

  I’ve calmed down by the time we pull up to my house. It’s still early but the sky is bleak with clouds. The lights are on in the living room and my mom’s red Sunfire is parked in the driveway.

  I unbuckle my seatbelt. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me… I just feel so… confused.”

  Raven presses her lips together and eyes my house. “It’s okay. You were still my friend through my little meltdown.”

  “With Laden?” I brush the dirt off the front of my legs.

  She nods slowly. “I’m not ready to talk about what happened yet, but I promise you I had nothing to do with his disappearance. And you have to promise me you’ll tell me what happened today, when you’re ready.”

  “You mean with Cameron?” I ask. “Or with the car?”

  Her gaze steadies on me; there are bags under her eyes and her olive complexion looks sheet white. “Both.”

  “Cameron turned out to be a douche bag.” I open the car door. “And when I’m ready, I’ll try to explain what happened with the car.”

  She smiles. “I love you, Em. You know that, right?”

  “I love you too.” And at that moment I mean it.

  I climb out of the car and go into the house. My mom is sifting through the bills at the kitchen table with takeout in front of her. She has on her uniform, a checkered dress covered by a white apron, and her hair is pulled up into a bun. I head up the stairs.

  “Where have you been?” she asks.

  I back down the stairs and step into the kitchen. “I was out at the lake.”

  Her brown eyes are as huge as silver dollars. “Why are you covered in dirt and scratched?”

  “I picked a fight with a rose bush.”

  “And you lost?”

  “No, I think I might have won.” I have the dead rose in my hand and I place it on the table.

  She sets the papers down and stares at the rose. “Where did you get that?”

  “That’s what was left over from the fight.” I plop down in a chair and grab a fry from the takeout bag.

  She picks up the rose, twirls it in her fingers, and dead rose petals float to the table. “You know I never expected your dad to leave.”

  “Which time?” I chew on the fry. “When he moved out or when he disappeared?”

  “Ember, I hope you don’t think your dad’s coming back.” She drops the dead rose on the table. “He’s probably dead.”

  “I know that.” I pick up the phone bill from the table, stamped with a bright red OVERDUE. “But I won’t completely accept it until they find his body.”

  She collects the trash and tosses it in the garbage. “I never meant to blame Grandma’s death on you.” She slips on her jacket and ties the waist shut. “I was just upset.” She pats my shoulder and sweeps my hair back like how she did when I was a child. “If you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here.” I nod, trying not to cry, and she grabs her keys from the counter. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  After she leaves, I sneak up to the bathroom and check her prescription bottle in the medicine cabinet. She’s been taking her meds again, which might explain the uplift in her attitude. On the way to my room, I run into Ian in the hallway.

  “You look like crap,” he announces, eyeing my dirty clothes. “Ember, that guy didn’t… Did he try…”

  I shake my head before he can finish. “I tripped down a hill.”

  He slips on a faded flannel jacket. “Hey, I got someone coming over later tonight, so don’t lock up.”

  “I never lock up,” I remind him. “And did you know mom’s been taking her meds again?”

  He ruffles his hair and pulls on his knitted beanie. “Yeah, I talked to her this morning. She showed up after you left, totally out of it, and I got her to take them.”

  “What about you?” I pluck a twig out of my hair. “Are you still taking yours?”

  “Of course.” He rolls his eyes.

  “Is that the only drug you’re taking?”

  He tucks his hands in his pockets. “You know I don’t do that crap anymore. Not since… Well, anyway, I’m going to check out for a little bit. And like I said, leave the door unlocked just in case my friend shows up before me.” He pauses at the top of the stairway. “Oh yeah, and if I were you, I’d go for the one with the dark hair.”

  I clutch my bedroom doorknob. “What are you talking about?”

  “The guy thing.” He starts down the stairs. “I don’t like that Cameron guy… He’s too… I don’t know, cocky or something—definitely not your type.”

  “You haven’t even met Asher yet,” I argue with no valid point because I want Asher too.

  He shrugs and vanishes down the stairs. Moments later, the front door slams shut. I sigh and open my bedroom door. All I want to do is take a hot shower and wash off today.

  “Hey.”

  The sound of his voice sends my heart soaring. My eyes dart to Asher sitting on my bed, the hood of his jacket pulled over his head, and he’s playing with the raven feather. The window is open behind him and the wind gusts in, flapping the edges of the papers and pictures hanging on my walls.

 
“How did you get in here?” I ask, shutting the door.

  He looks up from the feather with hooded eyes. “Your brother let me in.”

  “So that’s what the remark was about,” I mumble, then hunt for the right words. “What happened earlier… with Cameron—I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Done what exactly?” An underlying meaning hints in his words. He sets the feather down on the bed, slides the hood off his head, and rakes his fingers through his hair, leaving wisps in his eyes.

  “Do you really want me to tell you?” I slant back against the door and fold my arms.

  With his eyes locked on me, he pushes to his feet. “I need to know—it’s driving me crazy not knowing.” His eyes skim my body. “Especially when you look like that.”

  I rub the leftover dirt off my arm. “I fell down a hill.”

  He shakes his head and inches closer, eliminating some of the space between us. “I’m not talking about the dirt all over you.”

  “Oh.” I glance down at the ribbon on my shirt—it’s halfway undone. “He took me up to the lake, jumped in the water, and got my necklace out my car at the bottom of the lake.”

  Surprisingly, he’s unfazed and takes another step toward me. “And…”

  “And then half the school showed up and I bailed. I started walking down the highway. A car swerved at me and I fell down a hill.”

  He’s a sliver of space from me. “A car swerved at you?”

  I force the lump down in my throat. “That’s how I fell down the hill.”

  “Did they do it on purpose?” he asks, aghast.

  I shrug. “It’s hard to say, but maybe.”

  He shuts his eyes, looking like he might cry. When he opens them back up, his pupils are dilated, only a slender ring of grey showing. He places his hands on the door, trapping me between his arms. “Are you okay?” His eyes investigate my body for wounds, but every one of the cuts and bruises have already healed.

  I nod, unable to look away from his eyes. “I already told you I’m a walking miracle.”

  His gaze flicks to my lips and his voice deepens to a growl. “Did he kiss you?”

  “Huh?”

  “Cameron. Did he kiss you?”

  My stomach somersaults and I lick my cracked lips. “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

  He drags his tongue ring along the edge of his teeth. “I need to know or else it will drive me crazy.”

  “He kissed my neck,” I divulge truthfully.

  “That’s it?” His pierced eyebrow arches up. “That’s the only place he kissed you?”

  I nod. “That’s the only place he kissed me.”

  His breathing quickens and his eyes turn animalistic, the small amount of grey evaporating, so there’s nothing but pupil left. “Ember, can I kiss you?”

  Why does he always ask first? I clutch the front of his shirt and yank him against my lips, delivering him my answer. His lips don’t protest and he easily slips his tongue inside my mouth, bringing a sensation of warmth to every portion of my body. He lifts me up and my legs hook around his waist as he carries me to the bed. We fall together and my legs vice-grip around him. I feel alive and invigorated. Nothing exists at the moment but him and me.

  My hands find the zipper of his jacket and I start to unzip it. He takes the hint, leaning up enough to shuck off his jacket and throw it across the room. He has a plaid shirt on underneath and I fumble to unbutton it. But he catches my hand and ceases me.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, breathless. “You seem anxious.”

  I undo another button. “I’m fine.”

  “But I don’t want us to move too fast,” he says as I unfasten a button.

  I pause, crushed with self-doubt. “You don’t want this?” Don’t want me?”

  “No, I want more than you’re probably ready for.” He cups my cheek with his hand. “That’s why I think we should slow down.”

  I blink up at him. “Do you want to slow down?”

  He shakes his head and laughs softly. “I’m a guy, aren’t I?”

  “Then how about I tell you when it’s too far.” My voice is jagged, but I maintain his gaze.

  He slowly unbuttons the rest of his shirt, slips it off, and tosses it next to his jacket. My breath catches at his lean muscles and then at his tattoos. On the front section of his right rib is an angel with black feathers and tears in her eyes. Her black hair flows down her back, hiding her identity, and her feathers are molting. Tattooing his opposing rib is an inscription. I run my fingers along the cursive writing:

  Nigredo caped terra et possederunt corpora mortale.

  Ignis acquiritur super agros et fames possederunt maria.

  Mors vincit iram et Angelos morte. Erat, sed omne sacrificium unum contrarium.

  Morte puellae umero uno utrisque coniunctum esset electio salvificem mundum.

  Sed non facile ad pugnam.

  He covers his body with mine, so every part of us is melted together, and I wrap my arms around him. He kisses me deeply, sucking on my bottom lip, and trailing delicate kisses down my neck. My body conforms to his, steaming with desire. My chest heaves as he unties the ribbon of my shirt. He pauses, waiting to see if I protest. I don’t, and he unties it completely. The shirt gives open and his soft lips touch my skin. I shut my eyes and let the beautiful moment swallow me up.

  We kiss until our bodies force us to breathe. Asher ties my shirt back up and then puts his own back on. Then we lie in my bed with my head resting in the crook of his arm.

  “Ember,” he speaks slowly, as if I’m a skittish cat. “You know you can tell me stuff, right? I feel like… I don’t know... it feels like you keep things to yourself, like you think that for some reason you can’t trust anyone.”

  My dad’s words dance through my head. Emmy, if there’s one thing you need to know about life, it’s to never ever trust anyone or anything. Life is a freaking mind game and you and I are the pawns.

  “I barely know you.” I trace patterns on his forearm. “Well, except for your lips. I know those pretty well.”

  He bites back a smile. “I know…” He looks down and meets my eyes. “But I want you to get to know me and open up. I feel like you have a lot of things bottled up in you.”

  “So do you. Like your father. You don’t like to talk about him. And you never did fully explain why you moved here.” I bite down on my tongue. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what my problem is.” Head trauma. Death. Dead bodies. Or the fact that I stole the lives of a thousand plants.

  His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard. “No, it’s okay.” He slides down so we are at eye level. “We moved here to escape the memory of my dad. Even after he died the painful memories of when he was around still stayed in the house. So my mom and I packed up and moved here to be closer to family.”

  “I’m sorry.” I feel like a bitch. “I shouldn’t have forced you to tell me that.”

  “I wanted to tell you.” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Because I want you to feel comfortable sharing things with me.”

  I open my mouth to tell him everything, spill out my heart and soul, but again my dad’s words echo in my mind again. “I sometimes feel like life is just one big test to see how long we can survive.”

  I tuck my head into his chest and squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for him to leave.

  “Do you want to hear what my tattoo means?” he asks, his voice soft like a fragile feather.

  I’m surprised. I thought he would get mad or think I was insane. “Yeah, I’d love to hear it.”

  “It’s actually a story my father used to tell me all the time.” He confines my hand against his chest and his heart beats swiftly against my palm. “Blackness caped the land and possessed the bodies of the mortals. Fire acquired over the fields and famine possessed the oceans. The wrath of death was winning and the Angels of Death suffered. It was the end, but a single sacrifice reversed it all. One beautiful Grim Angel with death in
her blood and on her shoulders connected them all, and with a single choice she would save the world. But the fight would not be easy. Death would play with her mind and her life, but Angels would do everything they could to protect her. She would struggle with right and wrong and mess up along the way, but in the end she would have to make the right choice, otherwise Death would win and humans and Angels endure an eternity of suffering.”

  “But what does that mean…” I start to doze off. “And why were they fighting to begin with… Aren’t they both death? Or was it over…” Souls. I try to open my lips to ask him if he knows about the story in the book, but aching exhaustion possesses my body.