Cinder X (Death Collectors, #2) (2 page)

I turn on the living room light, letting the pale light fill up the room, and put some brightness into the depression of the emptiness. The silence of the house is depressingly familiar, but it’s how it’s been for weeks. My mom is still gone, getting treatment for her drug addiction and my brother, Ian, has barely been around since I questioned him about the photo I found of Alyssa. He’s either avoiding me or plotting my death; I can never be too sure anymore who plays on what side.

I collect my laptop from the coffee table and turn for the stairway with it tucked under my arm. As I reach the doorway, I get the strangest feeling that someone is watching me, but I try my best to shake it off, figuring I’m probably extra jumpy because of what I just read… Still, I can’t help noting all the shadows in the room as well as on the walls, moving with the branches outside. None of them seem to move towards me, so I go back upstairs, desperate to figure out how exactly Grim Reapers steal Grim Angels’ souls and what happens to people possessed by them.

As I’m passing by my mom’s room, I try not to look inside, but I can’t help it when the door’s agape. My blood still stains the carpet from when she stabbed me before I took her life so I wouldn’t die. She still blames me for it. The few times I’ve talked to her, she reminded me that I’m a killer, just like my father. That I killed my grandmother and tried to kill her. That she doesn’t want me. Sometimes I wonder if she’s possessed, too, if I’ve lost her to the Reapers yet, but I haven’t seen her in person for weeks, so it’s hard to be certain.

Finally, I rip my gaze off the blood on the carpet and go back into my room. I sit down on my bed, open up the laptop, and wait for it to boot up. My room has gotten noticeably colder and, if it’s even possible, the house seems quieter. I glance over my shoulder, noticing that my window is cracked open. I try to remember if I had it open before, yet that is ridiculous since it’s the end of November and freezing. No, someone’s been in my room.

I set the computer aside and stand up. “Is someone in here?”

I scan the room for where I left my knife when I notice the nightstand is empty and my heart stops. The book. It’s gone. “Shit,” I curse, rushing over to the window. I open it wider and peer down at the ground below. There’s nothing but shadows below the light of the moon and I can’t see a damn thing in order to tell if someone’s down there, running away, or watching me.

“Dammit.” Letting out a frustrated sigh, I lean back in, shut the window and lock it.

Irritation soars through me. That book was the only thing that had information about Grim Angels and now it’s gone, right when I was getting to something that could perhaps explain how to free pure souls. What’s even worse are the possibilities of who took it. The Anamotti. Cameron. Another Reaper. Raven. One of the walking dead.

I start to sink down on the bed, aggravated beyond words, when a shadow forms on the wall. At first I think it’s from the moving branches outside my window, but then it takes the shape of a tall figure that moves whimsically. My heart slams in my chest as I jump to my feet, debating whether to run or chase the damn thing down because I’m guessing it took the book.

It turns around when I reach the middle of my room and starts to circle around me with its eyes glowing black like cinders. I back away but end up walking right through it as it darts behind me. I stumble and fall as a cold chill spirals through my body. My legs give out on me and I land on my bed, instantly covering my face as the shadow dives for me, aiming straight for my mouth. I shut my eyes, feeling it entering me by the cold that seeps into my body and spreads. My pulse slows while my breathing decreases, and for a moment, I think I’m going to die again. But then, everything gets extremely quiet as I wait for it kill me, steal my soul. Instead, the cold starts to evaporate from my body.

I’ve gone crazy. Mad. I’ve fallen off the deep end. Crash. Burn. Ember is no more. In her place is this weak girl who’s swiftly sinking into the darkness. My mind doesn’t belong to me anymore. No matter which way I express it, it sounds equally as bad. But it’s the truth. Day after day, I roam around alone, unable to trust anyone as I search for answers that will lead me to the truth.

I haven’t seen the shadow since it showed up that night about a couple of weeks ago, but I can’t stop thinking about it and how it swept out of nowhere and took the book right at the moment when I was about to find out about freeing people from possession. I wonder if it was a Reaper in the shadow realm. I wonder if it was Cameron.

I wonder a lot of things. The biggest one, though, is that I think I’m going crazy. That maybe I didn’t see the shadow at all. I’m always drifting further and further towards where the Anamotti want me.

I’m also really lonely. I can’t get enough control of my mind to see passed the loneliness, so I just wander.

Aimlessly.

Every day.

To places I don’t want to go, doing things that I don’t want to do. I don’t know what’s happening to me.

Those were the words I wrote just before I headed out tonight, despite the fact that there’s a town curfew in place due to the frequent deaths and disappearances that have happened over the weeks.

I took the back way out of my house to avoid the police, who have been watching me since Asher left me. Two detectives park out front of my home every night and sometimes during the day. They’re watching me and the street I live on because they think I had something to do with McKenzie’s death and the other girls who have turned up missing or dead over the last few weeks in Hollows Grove. I’m not sure who’s causing it all, whether it’s the Reapers or someone else, but I do know who killed McKenzie—her dad, who is sort of an important figure in town since he’s rich.

My initial plan when I left the house was to go to the cemetery. It’s the last place I saw Asher, and for some reason, it always gives me comfort; like I didn’t imagine him, even though I’m starting to believe that I did. That he is just a ghost or a fading memory created from insanity. However somehow I find myself making a detour for reasons unknown.

I end up heading towards the outskirts of the town, taking the longest route possible as I hike along the path next to the river. I pass by a few people, but pay no attention to them because they seem out of place just lingering near the riverbed, which probably means they’re dead. It’s become a daily thing for me. The dead. Everywhere. They’re as common as living people now.

It’s chillier than it normally is in Hollows Grove and I’m trembling uncontrollably, even with my leather jacket on. I want to go home, back to the warmth and safety of my room, yet I can’t stop moving forward passed the rustic metal warehouses nestled in the dark crevasses of the town. My feet move impulsively with each step and when I finally stop walking, I’m standing in front of the entrance to an underground club located at the edge of town; one I didn’t even know existed. It’s a short, metal building that has a single door, which is open with music blasting inside. I show the bouncer my ID and even though I’m only nineteen, he lets me through with zero hesitation.

When I enter, sweat, mustiness and flashing lights immediately surround me. I move with hesitation passed the people, down the stairs and to the dance floor in the center of the room. I don’t know why I go there, since I hate touching people, yet I push my way to the middle of the sweaty bodies because it’s what the voice inside my head tells me to do.

Once there, I start to dance, waiting for whatever comes next, and moments later, I feel it; why I’m here. That I’m searching for death, but not just any death; a specific one full of feathers and capes—Reapers and Angels. In fact, it’s begging me to find it; find the Reaper, find the Angel. Pick. Choose. Life. Death. I want to run, but the unseen force is compelling me to stay put.
Let loose. Dance.
So I do.

Sweat drenches my skin and the heat of the stuffy room sears through my veins like liquid fire. I can barely breathe through my leather corset, black pants and lace-up boots while the lacy choker on my neck is binding. The music is so deafening it pulsates through my body, pounds at my eardrums and vibrates up and down my legs.

I feel like I’m melting, drowning in hot wax, as the deaths of the people around me drench my body.
Blood. Agony. Can’t breathe. Silence. Peace. Metal crunching, buckling, bending. Suffocating. Blood. Death. Blood. Death
.

God, I miss Asher’s quiet.

I force my brain to function passed the pain and horror as I hunt for a death, hoping that when I find it, I’ll be free from what’s drawing me to this place and maybe, just maybe, I can finally get some answers to what’s causing this. Is it something to do with my Grim Angel blood or is it the Anamotti? Cameron? What is it?

As the song switches to one with deep bass, I’m jerked from my thoughts. I put my hands up in the air and shut my eyes, allowing myself to drown painfully in the deaths of others around me while my black hair falls out of its ties and sticks to the back of my neck and shoulders. The stench of alcohol and sweat engulfs me and, with every contact of skin, I see omens.
Falling. Helpless. Disease. Knife. Blood. Stab. Blood. Full moon. Night sky. Gravel. Building. Blood on the ground, on hands. Capes. Feathers
.

“Shit.” I don’t mean to say it aloud, but it really doesn’t matter since the music is so deafening that the sound of my voice gets lost in the rhythm. My hands fall to my sides as I open my eyes and hunt my surroundings for the person’s death I felt, but all I can see are people grinding up against each other with their heads tipped back as they veer towards ecstasy.

I whirl around to skim the thick crowd behind me, however they cram tighter together as the tempo of the music picks up and everyone goes wild; hands flailing in the air, elbows and knees bumping me from every direction. Shoving my way out, I make my way towards the back of the room to the elongated bar packed with people ordering drinks and flirting with each other. By the time I approach the edge of the dance floor, I’m panting from the intoxication of death, losing control over my curse and my body. My mind. I try to fight it, knowing I don’t want to be here—knowing I didn’t come here on my own—yet I can’t seem to escape.

“I need to get out of here,” I mutter in panic as I fan my hand in front of my damp face.

I’m about ready to sprint for the grated stairway that will take me outside, when I spot a lofty figure with a dark hood pulled over their head, looming near the door. The green glow of the exit sign shines down on their face as fear races through my veins, more potent than the adrenaline I felt on the dance floor I’m not sure if it’s Cameron or some other Reaper, but it’s what I was looking for tonight—I can feel it in my bones and my thoughts:
Go to him
.
Choose Death.

I shove my fears aside and lightly brush my fingers along the pocketknife in the back pocket of my jeans. Then I push through the people and stride towards the Reaper. The music gets rowdier and the floor vibrates beneath my shoes as I trot up the stairs. The closer I get, the fiercer my heart knocks against my chest, and by the time I take a step onto the final stairs, I’m lightheaded from the rush, gripping onto the railing for support.

I pause at the top, staring at the Reaper near the doorway while wondering who’s behind the cape. No one else seems to notice it, which is typical since most people don’t see Death walking around. The Reaper seems oblivious of me, though, its soulless eyes focused on the crowd below.

I want to turn away—run—but I can’t deny the invisible pull I feel towards it, so I gradually make my way across the slender balcony, one foot in front of the other. When I’m about within arm’s reach, the Reaper suddenly turns, whipping its cape around, and the fabric grazes my cheek. I trip back, stumbling over my boots and blinking my eyes against the sting. When my vision focuses again, it’s gone and the door is slamming shut.

Run after him.