Death Collectors: Ember Part 22

As we drive over the bridge, we both stop breathing. The road is still stained with the X and the median is scuffed from the collision. There is a small spot decorated with flowers and ribbons.

My mind flashes back to the bar fight and the way Asher took down a guy twice his size without even so much as blinking. Could Asher have killed him to protect Raven? But why would he decorate the scene? "What do you think happened to Laden?" I ask. "Do you think he's... Do you think Asher really killed him?"

She clutches onto the steering wheel. "You know what? I really don't want to know what happened to him. If Asher killed him, then so be it."

I clear my throat and distract my thoughts onto the book. "Grim Angels are the most important and most dangerous breed of Angels that have ever existed. They have a direct insight to death..." I read aloud with a shiver. "They have the power to either destroy the human race or save it, depending on where their legions end up lying." I glance up from the pages. "But how can they destroy the human race? That's what I want to know."

She flips the page and taps it with her finger on the t.i.tle. "I'm not sure, but read this. It's really interesting."

"The Grim Reaper is believed to be the collector of the evil souls. They possess the ability to not only separate one's soul from their body, and guide it to the next world, but they can also trick an individual to render their life over to them." Oh my G.o.d, my mom. "They like to play tricks on the bodies of the souls they take, leaving them hanging from trees, hiding them-"

She taps the brake so hard it locks up our seatbelts.

"What's wrong?" I ask, unlocking my seat belt.

"What if... what if Asher's a Grim Reaper and you're a Grim Angel?" It's like a light switch has flipped in her head.

I rapidly shake my head. "There's no way that can be true. Why would you even say that?"

"Ember, think about it. You can see death. If you were a Grim Angel, this could be why," she presses. "And Asher has so much interest in you. And he knew where your car was. What if he told the cops?"

"No. There's no way." But doubts tug at my mind. When I died in the rose garden and I saw the Reaper take off his hood; back at the water, while I was drowning; and I saw the Grim Reaper before suddenly waking up on the sh.o.r.e next to Asher.

I shake the thoughts from my head. I will not jump to conclusions just yet, not until I hear what he has to say. Especially since Asher brings me an indescribable calmness and he has never openly done anything to hurt me. And he's had a lot of chances.

"It says in the book that they like to mess with Grim Angels' heads and try to ruin their lives, make them go crazy, and get them to surrender to the Wrath of Death," she says. "Think about it, Em. What if Asher did something to Laden after he saved me, but only so he could reenact what happened with your dad? What if he has been wiggling his way into your life to f.u.c.k with your head?"

"Why are you making these accusations?" I ask. "When just a few seconds ago you were defending Asher."

"Because it's making sense now."

"No, it's not. Nothing is making any sense. At all. My whole life doesn't make sense. It's like I'm always one step away from walking off a cliff."

"Read some more," she urges. "See if there's anything else that might give us some more clues."

I continue in an unsteady voice. "Grim Reapers are also excellent shape shifters, more often than not in the form of snakes, rats, cats, birds, and sometimes humans. Through their abilities, a Grim Reaper has been known to steal many innocent souls with a simple bribe or trick. This was the cause of the first battle between good and evil that lasted nearly a decade." I stop reading.

She reaches over and turns the page. On the top of it is a beautiful angel, with wings as black as the ones I'm wearing and hair as dark as ash. "Keep reading. I think you're getting close."

"An Angel of Death brings a more peaceful death to the individual whose soul they collect. They only collect the souls of the dying innocent and carry the spirit over to the next world. They bring a sense of calm with their touch." That sounds more like Asher. "Unlike the Grim Reaper, they wait for death and do not feed off the life of an individual. They are gentle by nature, but pa.s.sionate in battle." My eyes meet Raven's. "Pa.s.sionate in battle?"

"It talks about a battle more toward the back." She diverges into the school parking lot, not reducing the speed, and I'm slammed into the door. "But you can read about all this later. Right now, I want you to focus on having fun."

"Yeah... right."

Strobe lights flash in front of the entrance and a shroud of torn sheets hang from the front doors. Hay bales, with skeletons situated on them, border the sidewalk. On the sloped roof of the school, the Grim Reaper stands. It's fake, with yellow eyes, but it sends a chill up my spine.

"Em." Raven's voice brings me back to her. She parks the car next to a group of people dressed up like the s...o...b.. Doo gang. "I have to tell you something. And it's really important." She texts someone and then tucks the phone into her bra.

"Really." I give her a look. "In your bra?"

Her face drains of humor. "I might need my cell phone."

I bite down on my lip until it bleeds and fills my mouth with the bitter taste of rust. "Raven... do you really believe in this stuff?" I hold up the book. "Grim Reapers, Death Angels, and battles between good and evil? Or are you just showing it to me because I asked about a Grim Angel?"

Her eyes are as soft as they've ever been, and at that moment she is the same friend that slapped Ricky Stewart in the face when he cut off a piece of my hair in kindergarten. "My best friend has been able to see how everyone is going to die since she was four years old. If that s.h.i.t can exist, why can't this?"

"I think the gift might be gone." I place a hand on her arm. "I can't feel your death anymore."

"Your curse isn't gone." She smiles sadly and slips the white-feathered wings onto her back.

"Yeah, but what if it's not a curse?" I maneuver awkwardly out of the car, bending low to get my wings out. "What if I'm... what if this whole time I've been able to do all this stuff because I'm not human?"

"It would still be considered a curse, Em. Death stole your life away from you when you were four." She locks up the doors. "Come on, let's go inside."

The chilled wind blows through our hair as we hike across the parking lot. Raven holds the bottom of her dress down and fiddles with her hair. Inside her bra, the phone rings, and she does a little wiggle from the vibration, but ignores the call. We push through the doors and a puff of mist engulfs us.

"d.a.m.n Halloween decorations." Raven coughs and waves her hand in front of her face.

I fan my face and blink my stinging eyes until we break through the mist and into the quad. Up on the stage, a guitarist flares on his instrument's strings. The drummer is shirtless and branded with mythical tattoos. Music bursts through several large speakers lined along the wall. Orange and black streamers are spiraling around columns, and purple and silver ceiling lights flash down on the packed dance floor, where people jump up and down, shouting out the lyrics of the song. There are witches, devils, vampires, Frankenstein, and even a few angels. In the farthest corner, someone is fashioned in a Grim Reaper costume.

"G.o.d, I hope there aren't too many of them," I mumble.

Raven tracks the object of my gaze. "Oh Emmy, you don't fear the Reaper, do you?"

I shoot her a blank stare. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

She smiles and hooks arms with me. It's the strangest thing in the world, touching her and not feeling her death. We create a wide path with her wings as we weave around the room, toward the common area, a small room just behind the stage. Heads turn in our direction, but I keep focused on the common room doors.

"Why are we going back here?!" I yell over the music.

She points at the doors decorated with spider webs and an ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK sign. "There's a haunted house back there and Asher just sent me a text that he was walking through it with some friends."

I slam to a stop and she's jerked back.

"Em, what the h.e.l.l?" She unclasps our arms. "What are you looking at?"

My pulse races as I stare at the door. "I'm not sure I want to go in there."

She rolls her eyes and jerks me forward. "Come on, we'll be fine."

"Why can't I just meet him out here?" I argue.

"Stop being a chicken!" She laughs. "I was only kidding about him being the Reaper."

I begrudgingly follow her into the haunted house. It's dark inside and when the door shuts behind us, it suffocates the music. There are skeletons to greet us at the entrance of a hallway of hay bales. Twinkle lights sparkle the way.

I back away, but Raven pulls me forward. "You are going to have fun tonight whether you like it or not."

Shaking my head, I trudge after her. The skeleton jumps up and shrieks at us as we pa.s.s it. Raven speeds up, laughing, and I sneeze from the hay. The farther we go, the more scarce the lights get, until there are none left and we're smothered by blackness.

Someone screams and a warm mist dampens my skin. A recording of a laugh turns on, followed by a deep growl.

"Raven," I hiss. "I want to go back."

Her hand falls from mine and she laughs. "Last one to the end's a rotten egg."

I stumble around in the dark with my hands sprawled out in front of me. "Raven, where are you?"

Behind me a light clicks on, highlighting a graffiti wall. I lower my hands as another light turns on and emphasizes a chain link floor-length gate in front of me. I push through the gate and step into the next section, which is lined wall-to-wall with mirrors. The gate slams shut behind me. I whirl around, threading my fingers through the links, jerking it fiercely.

The gate won't budge, so I walk vigilantly up the slender hall between the mirrored walls. "Raven, please tell me where you are. This isn't funny anymore."

I hear her laugh from somewhere and the lights flash off, then on. A man appears at the end of the hall, with dark hair, kohl-lined eyes, black jeans, and a T-shirt. A giant X brands his forehead.

I squint through the blinking lights that reflect blindingly against the mirrors. "Laden?"

"h.e.l.lo, Ember." He smiles. "Long time, no see."

I back up quickly, but crash into a solid figure. A thousand deaths pour through me: pain, terror, falling, drowning, fire, pain, pain, pain. I buckle forward, but he grasps my arm, rotates it behind my back, and reels me to face him.

Garrick's greasy hair shines in the light and he scratches the X on his eye. "You're not playing the game right, do you know that? You're not answering every question we ask and you're not giving in. It's very disappointing."

"We," I say, hoping to throw him off. "As in the Anamotti."

His face remains stoic. "What? You think that surprised me? The bigger question that I think needs answering is who are the Anamotti? And who leads us?"

"I don't know what you're getting at." I try to wrench my arm away.

His fingernails dig into my skin. "Oh I think you do. It's the perfect crime, you know. Telling the person you're after about the group who is chasing after her, when really you are part of it. Earning her trust, so she'll never see it coming."

"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 b.u.t.t, 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.

"h.e.l.lo," 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. "h.e.l.lo, 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 p.r.i.c.ks 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!"