Ember

by Jessica Sorensen

  “Asher isn’t after me.” I choke. “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “What, lie?” A sly grin creeps over his face. “Or try to kill you? How do you think he showed up so fast that night at the lake after I ran into you? And how do you think we knew you were going to be here tonight?”

  I writhe out of his grip and back up, peeking over my shoulder at Laden, grinning as blood drips down his forehead and onto the floor. “I’m not an angel. And that’s what the Anamotti want, right? Angels?”

  “Not just any angel, but a Grim Angel.” Garrick matches my steps and slants in, putting his face close to mine. “I think deep down you know what you are. The Grim Angel, the one that holds the balance of the Reapers and the Angels of Death. The one that carries death with her all the time. The one that will easily crack and lose the balance with their mind. It’s in your blood, you know—the insanity.”

  He lunges for my throat and I knee him between the legs. His face screws in pain as he crumples to the floor. I dart around him and throw myself against the fence. The metal slices open my palms and forces me to let go. I land on my butt, but scramble to my feet and spin around, ready to protect myself. But Garrick and Laden have vanished.

  I give the fence a few more shakes, but a padlock on the other side secures it. It hits me: I’ve walked into a trap. And honestly, I don’t know what waits for me at the end. I take a deep breath and hurry down the hallway of mirrors. There is a fork at the end, and I select the right, tiptoeing quietly. Strands of hay flutter in my hair and send me into a sneezing frenzy.

  “Ember,” Garrick’s voice touches my ear. “Don’t breathe.”

  I take off down the hall, my legs struggling as I tear around the corner. His footsteps barrel after me and his laugh echoes forcefully down the hall.

  “Ember,” he says. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”

  As I sprint around a sharp corner, my feet trip over something weighty and solid. My body slams to the floor. I quickly flip over to my back and glance back at what made me fall. A person, face down. I crawl over to them and turn them on their back.

  Laden’s dead eyes stare at me. His pale decomposing skin is ice-cold and the X is an older wound. He’s been dead for a while. I think back to my tree with his body hanging in it, and the one I saw in the library. Is this even real?

  Garrick’s voice drifts compellingly down the hall. “It’s hard to tell, isn’t it? What’s real and what’s not. Tell me Ember, does it ever feel like you’re losing your mind?”

  I leap to my feet, hop off of Laden, and run. Sweat drips down my skin as I accelerate. The school’s side entrance door finally comes into view and I can almost taste my freedom. I reach for the door handle, but a hay bale lands on me like the weight of a bag of bricks. My head smacks the tile and the crack of my bones is stomach-churning.

  Garrick squats down in front of me. “Ever heard the term ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’? Well, it’s a little misleading.” He swathes the hood of a cloak over his head. “Because everyone fears death, Ember. Even Death itself.” Then he pulls out a knife and cuts an X across my forehead.

  Chapter 19

  I open my eyes to the pieces of the stars and a glimpse of the moon. I attempt to roll onto my stomach, but a rope restrains each of my wrists to a tree and my legs are tied to each other. Out of the corner of my eyes, I spot a fire. Feathers and rose petals halo around my head. The wings are still secured to my back, but are bent to conform to the pressure of my body.

  “Hello,” I call out tentatively. “Is anyone here?”

  A woman with a sharp nose and blonde hair woven in a bun appears in my line of vision. “Hello, Ember. It’s so nice of you to join us.”

  My eyes narrow. “Detective Crammer.”

  “Feel like you’re going crazy yet?” The fire glows in her blue eyes and shadows the area underneath her defined cheekbones, so she looks almost skeletal. “Like you don’t know what’s real?”

  “So you’re part of the Anamotti,” I say, winding the rope around my wrist to gain more control. “Or are you a Grim Reaper?”

  Her thin lips nearly vanish as she smiles. She retrieves a knife from the pocket of her jacket. It’s small with a silver handle and a sharp tip. Putting the tip of it to my forehead, she pierces it into my skin and blood rivers out like a leaky faucet. “The Anamotti and the Reapers are one in the same. The Anamotti is just what we go by in the human world to help us stay undetected.” She gestures around her like she’s a queen and a group of people announce their presence by stepping out of the trees. “All of us are Reapers here. Even you.” She smiles wickedly. “Partly anyway.”

  All of them wear a uniform of black cloaks, but their hoods are off, hanging down their backs and showing me their human form. Some of them are unfamiliar, but I recognize Garrick, who mockingly waves at me and winks.

  And the sight of a pink-haired girl bruises my heart. “Raven.”

  She grins dreamily at me and her sapphire eyes are dazed, like she’s drunk. “I’m so sorry, Em. I didn’t mean to do it. I just couldn’t seem to help myself.”

  Madness pricks at my brain. I tug on the ropes until my wrists rupture open and blood spills out all over my hands, the rope, and the dirt.

  “Oh relax for Christ’s sake.” Detective Crammer draws the knife down my cheek and splits open my face. “She’s under the spell of the Reaper because, unlike you, she’s human and can be possessed by him.”

  Raven moves forward from the crowd, but Beth thrusts out her hand, barricading her back. “Stay back, you little trollop. You are still to obey my orders.”

  Raven blinks and steps back. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Raven,” I beg, trying to make eye contact with her. “Don’t listen to her. Run away! Now!”

  “It’s pointless to try to get through to her.” Detective Crammer says. “The power of the Reaper is more powerful than anything, which you’ll soon learn after we get rid of you.”

  I raise my chin up and look her in the eye. “You know I can’t die, right? So whatever you have planned for me won’t work.”

  She pats the handle of the knife against her palm. “Oh yes, the beauty of being able to suck the life away from the living. It makes it harder to get rid of you, but not impossible.” She laughs to herself, throwing her head back and some of the other Reapers join in. “It also makes you more prone to insanity and more likely to surrender to the Reaper blood, just like your father did.”

  “What do you know about my father?!” Craning my arms, I endeavor to get the trees to break with my strength.

  “You don’t have super strength.” She rolls her eyes and bends down in my face. “In fact, you’re fairly close to an ordinary girl, only you’re connected with every aspect of death. It’s not really a gift, so much as a curse. In fact, if I were you, I’d let me put you out of your misery. All you would have to do is surrender to the Reaper and he would take away the pain of death.”

  I transitorily stop fighting; erasing the pain, taking away death, rupturing the chains that have sentenced me to a life of solitude. But it would still be death, only in a more powerful form. “No, I won’t do it.”

  “Alright, then. I guess, for the moment, you’ll let your Angel blood make your decisions. But I warn you, you’ll give in.” She snaps her fingers and Garrick shoves Raven forward. Raven trips over her bare feet and falls to her knees. Her white wings are broken, and her dress is torn and stained. There is no life in her eyes and it’s terrifying. “If you are not willing to surrender, I’ll force you to.” She puts the knife to Raven’s throat and gently cuts a thin layer of skin. Blood trickles out and Raven winces, but doesn’t cry out.

  “Wait,” I say. “Don’t hurt her.”

  “There’s only one way out of this.” She makes another slim puncture on Raven’s neck.

  Death or life. Death or life. What’s the difference? “I’ll do whatever you want me to. Just let her go.”

  She makes another small incision along
Raven’s neck and the other Reapers laugh, pulling their hoods over their heads. “Oh I don’t want anything from you. I’m just going to torture her and then you, until you lose your mind and give into your Reaper blood.”

  I thrash my body and jerk on the ropes. “Leave her alone!” I close my palms and attempt to slide my hands through the rope. The rough material claws at my skin, but I refuse to give up—give in.

  Detective Crammer snickers and cuts off a small lock of Raven’s pink hair. “Do you know how fun it was to torture you? Kill you time and time again. Make you think you were losing your mind. You have a bendable mind and so do the people closest to you. Most of them are insane—do you know that? And do you want to know why?”

  “Because of the pain of my existence.”

  “No, but it’s close. Insanity is a very contagious thing; it’s easy to get caught up in it. Those who are close to a Grim Angel start experiencing what they go through and it wears them down, driving them insane themselves. Plus, they are susceptible to the Reaper’s torture.”

  Raven gags on her own blood and clutches at her throat. “Ember, help me.”

  Detective Crammer grabs a handful of Raven’s bubblegum pink hair and moves the knife to Raven’s hairline, like she’s going to scalp her. My whole body spasms—I can’t seem to look away. The circle of Reapers tightens around me and their eyes begin to glow.

  “Just give in, Ember” the detective says. “And everything—all of it will be gone.”

  I stare up at the night sky, thinking about my life. Would everything be better if I was gone? Maybe.

  I watch as a black figure swoops down from the sky; I assume it’s another Reaper. But black feathers fall from heaven and dust the air with a peaceful feeling.

  The creature moves inhumanly fast, just a blur as it clips the ropes on my wrists with its hand and turns me loose. Then it rounds back, swipes up Detective Crammer by the shoulders, and carries her into the sky. Her painful scream pierces the night and Reapers push up from the ground, airborne into the sky.

  “Passionate when in battle.” I quickly sit up and untie my legs. Then I rush over to Raven, lying face down in the dirt. I gently roll her onto her back. Her eyes are shut and the blood flows out from the open wounds on her neck. “Rav, can you hear me?”

  She sucks in a breath and her eyes shoot open. “Oh my God, I think I…”

  Tucking my arm underneath hers, I aid her to her feet. “Come on, we have to go before they come back for us.”

  “Too late,” Garrick says, landing just in front of us. His voice is human, but below the hood, a skeletal figure peeks out: sharp cheek bones, empty eyes, a soulless heart. “Ember, there’s no use trying. We always win this every time. You wanna know why?”

  Raven leans on me. Supporting her weight, I inch us back toward the forest. “Because you mess with the Grim Angel’s head until they crack. You don’t give up.”

  He matches my steps toward the forest, his cape like a train on the ground behind him. “Because evil is the one that plays dirty—we are the ones who break the rules.” His arms lift to the side of him and he’s holding the knife. “Therefore, evil always triumphs.”

  “Go into the trees,” I whisper in Raven’s ear, inching her forward. “Now.”

  She blinks at me, half there, half gone. “I’m not leaving you… They want to kill you.”

  “No, they want to make me one of them,” I say. “They can’t kill me.”

  Reluctantly, she slips out from the support of my arm and hobbles into the shadows of the trees, free from the Reaper’s power.

  Emptiness chokes up my throat as I march for Garrick with my hands out to the side. “Go ahead, kill me.”

  He grins and the fire crackles wildly behind him. “You know I can’t do that. But I can hurt you.” He stabs the knife into my throat, severing my skin and my veins. Blood gurgles out and I clamp my hand over the wound. But the soothing murmur of the trees and the flowers sprouting from the dirt instantly connect with me and gradually stitches it up.

  Garrick whistles slowly. “That was faster than… No, you couldn’t be…”

  I ram my knee into his gut, whirl, and slam my elbow into his face. The contact of bone deadens my elbow, so using my other fist, I punch him in the nose. Bar fight tactic and it works. Garrick goes down like a sack of potatoes.

  Whirling away from him, I run for the forest. But he scurries forward on his belly and his fingers wrap around my ankle. I smash the heel of my boot into his face, but he just laughs.

  “You can’t kill death eternally.” His voice is as sharp as the knife in his hands. “It was highly entertaining though, watching you try to sift through my thousands of deaths.” I kick him again, but he only laughs harder. “You know, you have a lot more power than you think, you just have no idea how to use it.”

  I claw at the ground as his hands move up my leg like a tight rope, and a raven lands in front of me. Garrick stabs the knife in my calf and grabs me by the hair as he rises to his feet, pulling me up with him.

  “Help me, please,” I whisper to the bird. It hops from side to side, like it is thinking. “Please, bird. I have a feeling you can hear me.”

  Garrick’s hands slip from my leg, and dust and black feathers whirlwind around me. The sound of flapping wings sends the raven diving for the woods. Without hesitation, I sprint into the forest. “Raven,” I hiss, searching behind trees and near bushes as I cut a path deeper into the forest. The stars flicker between the cracks in the branches that form a canopy over my head. “Raven,” I dare call out. “Where are you? It’s me, Ember.”

  I keep walking, knowing where I’m going, but worried Raven doesn’t. “Please answer me. I promise no one’s going to hurt you anymore.”

  By the time I step into the cemetery, I worry she might be lost in the trees. I need a phone and some help. I head quickly for the gates.

  As usual, the cemetery is quiet, filled with death and the chirps of crickets. The trees cast shadows all over the ground and the fence blocks out most of the street lights. My wings are ripped and my skin is soaked with blood.

  I weave through the headstones, careful not to step on them. The wind picks up and the hinges of the gate squeak. I hear a whisper and turn in a circle, skimming the trees as I keep moving for the exit.

  When he steps out from behind a colossal tree at the back of the cemetery, a wall crumples inside my body. Dressed in black, he blends with the night. But his hair is as white as a ghost. His long legs are stretched out in front of him as he strides across the grass toward me.

  “Well, if it isn’t my number one fan,” Cameron says and my insides explode with chills.

  Against the power of my own, I halt next to the statue of the Grim Reaper. “What are you doing here?”

  There’s a swoosh and suddenly he’s standing right in front of me, his eyes dark as coals, his face hauntingly poetic. “Don’t pretend you don’t like me, Ember.” A grin pulls at his lips. “You may pretend like you’re not interested in me, but I know you are.”

  I shut my eyes, constrict my muscles, and attempt to lift my foot off the grass—get it to move me toward the gate again. “What are you doing to me?”

  His eyes sear like cinders, on the edge of life, but not quite dead as he circles me with his hands behind his back. “You are so beautiful. So grown up. So full of life, yet always so full of death.”

  My legs quiver with the desire to run. “What are you?”

  “Perhaps you should be asking me what you are.” His long finger traces my cheekbone and a dark hunger flares in his eyes, dying to feed. “You really are amazing, yet you’ve been blinded by the fear of death and have never noticed all the possibilities in front of you. If you’d just accept it—”

  “I won’t.” I interrupt. “I’m not giving in to Death.”

  “You shouldn’t decide your answer until you understand everything.” He takes my hand and helplessly, I follow him to the tree.

  My body is no longer m
y own and I speculate how long my mind will remain mine.

  He nestles us down next to the trunk, wraps his arms around me, and leans me back against his chest. He sweeps my hair aside and puts his lips against my ear. “Never having to fear or experience death. Imagine writing about immortality, instead of death like everyone else. You could be the first.”

  “Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson already did,” I smart off. “And so did Spill Canvas.”

  “Spill Canvas?” His tone tickles with intrigue.

  “It’s a band, you asshole.” I force out a scream, but it harshly cuts off before it reaches my lips. “Cameron, let me go. Please. If you’re a Reaper, I thought you couldn’t possess me.”

  “I’m not supposed to… and I can’t possess your mind completely—trust me, I’ve tried. But I can possess your body.” He kisses the tip of my ear and moves his lips down my neck. “You were such a fascinating child. Usually when they sent me to mess with a child’s head, it was the most droning time of my existence—which says a lot, because I’m old. But you—you were so full of fire and were determined not to get rid of me. But then you told me to go away, and I had to follow the rules.” He sucks on my neck, passionate kisses, and then his breath is hot against my ear. “You know I broke the rules for you. I tried to warn you about your dad, even though I wasn’t supposed to. And then you ran away with me... Admit it—that was probably the most fun you’ve had in your life. You and me hiding in the woods, while I listened to you ramble to yourself, trying to pretend I wasn’t there.”