Cinder X (Death Collectors, #2) (29 page)

Screams and shouts chase after us as some of the Anamotti lift off, trying to follow us; their capes materialize as they soar up into the sky.

“Hold on,” Asher whispers, and without arguing, I grip tightly onto him, wrapping my legs around his waist and holding on for dear life.

A second later, we’re launched forward, sucked into the darkness around us. It’s like going through a tunnel, lights flickering, cold air hitting my face. Whispers echo around me and the darkness keeps brushing against my skin, which is when I realize that the darkness is a veil of shadows.

“We’re in the shadow realm?” I ask, looking up at Asher as we fly through the shadows by an unseen current. It’s strange to watch too, because their moving and we’re moving and the two combined make it seem like we’re not moving. They also whisper, but I don’t understand what they’re saying as if they’re speaking in code.

Asher nods, his face is barely visible with only the ambient light around us, but I can tell he’s trying to concentrate on taking us somewhere. “It’s the only way we could get out of there.”

“But can’t the Anamotti get in here?” I ask, looking over at Cameron flying just in front of us.

He gives a quick glance at me. “That’s why we have to move fast,” he says with concern.

And move fast we do, going so quickly I start to get motion sickness the more the air flows over my body and the smaller the things below me get. We’re getting higher. Things are getting dimmer. I feel like I’m going to puke. Finally, I give up watching and bury my face into Asher’s chest. I shut my eyes and tell myself that everything is going to be okay. That I’ll get through this. However, deep down, I know I’m wrong. I have hardly anyone in my life left, at least along the lines of being human, and now the fate of the world’s souls is in my hands. I’m going to have to make a choice. I’m going to have to make a sacrifice.

I’m going to have to kill someone I love.

The problem is, I’m not sure I love anyone at the moment. So what does that mean? What does anything mean anymore?

I continue to think the same things over and over again, feeling myself drifting off to sleep the more time goes on. I don’t even know how it’s possible, considering how much adrenaline is coursing through me, however it feels like I could fall asleep in Asher’s arms, right here in the middle of the shadow realm. I’m about to let myself, too, when I hear something whisper my name.

“Just hang on, Ember.”

My eyelids lift open. We’re still soaring through the shadow realm with the world zipping by below us. Shadows stream at our sides; some of them reach out for us, but Asher easily dodges them, zigzagging from side to side.

“What’s wrong?” Asher asks, feeling my tension.

I shake my head, staring at the shadow wall to my right, my vision flicking around again. It becomes more defiant. Darker. Bolder. Forming a shape of a face with eyes that look just like mine; one’s I haven’t seen for years.

“Dad,” I whisper as it extends out of the surface like a statue made of obsidian.

He watches me for a moment before his lips start to unnaturally move. “Don’t trust anyone but yourself,” he says. “You still have a long road ahead of you, filled with hard choices.”

“I know,” I say. “How do I know what’s right and wrong, though?”

“You just do,” he says. “You’ve made it this far—you’re the last Grim Angel—which means you’re the strongest—and the Anamotti know that. They fear it.”

I’m not sure I believe him. “I don’t feel that way.”

“But you are.” The statue starts to crack. “I know you’ll do the right thing in the end.”

“Was it you?” I ask. “That day in the attic.”

I swear the dark mass smiles. “How could I not protect my little girl when the leader of the Reapers is after her... His voice floats away.

“Dad, wait!” I call out, but the pieces crumble apart and disintegrate into dust.

Without even thinking, I try to slip out of Asher’s arms, trying to get to him, pull him back to me, even though I can’t see him anymore. Yet Asher fights me, his arms refusing to let me go, pressing me closer to his chest.

“Ember, hold still,” he says softly. I wonder if he saw what I did. “I don’t want to drop you.”

“I think I saw my dad.” I squirm and push against his chest. “Asher, let me go.”

“No,” he says with relentless stubbornness. “If I let you go, you’ll fall.”

The Reaper has returned, tall and sinister, standing in the shadows of my room beside my dresser like a ghost. His eyes light up the night while his presence chills the air, and goosebumps dot my arms as I sit up in my bed.

It’s late; the moon a massive ring filled with light that glimmers through my window and illuminates the drawings and poetic ramblings on my wall; words the Reaper seems very interested in as he reads them.

“What are you doing here?” I ask the Reaper who’s haunted me off and on since I was a child; the one that always seems to come back just when I’m about to believe he’s disappeared out of my life forever. “I thought you went away.”

“I came back,” he says simply, the hood over his head masking his face from me, but as he steps out of the shadows and into the moonlight, the glow of the moon hits his face. “I needed to tell you something.”

I shake my head, wrapping my arms around myself as I eye the door, wanting to run, but I know he’ll simply follow me. He always does. “No way. I don’t want to hear anything that you say… I just want you to leave.”

He takes another step towards my bed, seeming to grow taller with every movement. “Don’t tell lies, Ember Rose. You know that you’ve missed me.”

“Liar,” I say, but it’s not entirely true. Sometimes, when I’m really lonely, when my mom’s out doing drugs, my father’s stealing cars and my brother is out with his girlfriend getting high, I do wish he was here. “I never miss you when you leave.”

He shakes his head as the afterglow of his eyes brightens, highlighting the features of his face. “Another lie, but I’ll let it go because I came here to tell you something important.”

I move my hands to cover my ears. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s about your father,” he says swiftly. With that, my hands fall to my lap.

“What about him?” I ask worriedly, knowing it can never be a good thing when the Grim Reaper shows up in your room and says he knows something about your father.

He walks the rest of the distance to the bed and then hovers over me. “He’s going to die.”

I shake my head, scooting away as the feel of his death flows off his body and tries to enter me. “You’re lying.”

He sinks down on my bed, nearly sitting on my legs as he makes himself at home. “I never lie. You know that.”

“I know nothing other than you show up sometimes and drive me insane.”

“That’s my job.”

“Well, it’s a sucky job,” I tell him. “Which makes you sucky.”

He chuckles, almost sounding human except his eyes are glowing and he’s wearing a cloak. “I love your sense of humor. You and I are really going to get along.”

“No, we’re not,” I protest. “Because you’re going to go away again.”

“We’ll still see if you feel the same way when I tell you what I know,” he says. I hold my breath, waiting for him to divulge what he knows, even though I know I should probably be running for the door. “I’ve been sent on a mission,” he starts, “to collect a very valuable soul.”

I swallow hard, shivering from the chill creeping into my body. “Whose soul?”

“I think you already know the answer, but just to be clear, it’s your father’s.”

“But he’s not dead,” I choke, gripping onto the edge of the blanket. “He can’t be.”

“He isn’t yet,” the Reaper replies, rising to his feet. “But as soon as I collect his soul, he will be.”

I grab onto his cloak, despite my initial urge not to touch him. “Wait, please don’t do it. Please.”

He glances over his shoulder at me. “It’s my job, princess.”

“But I’m asking you not to,” I say in a pleading voice as I hold onto his cloak and kneel up on my bed. “Please, he’s the only one in my family that’s nice to me anymore.”

“You think I care,” he questions, “about you?”

“I don’t know... but you’re here, aren’t you? And that’s got to mean something.”

He misses a beat and then quickly strides forward towards the door, swishing the end of his cloak behind him. “I’m giving you a few minutes to warn him,” he says and then opens the door. “Then I’m going to do what I have to.”

He exits the room and I leap to my feet, running out into the hall. It’s dark and the house is quiet, the temperature icy and haunting, carrying a warning that death was just here. That he’s about to take my dad’s soul, which means my dad’s going to die.

No. I won’t let it happen.

I hurry through the darkness and then sprint down the stairs, racing for the kitchen phone. I dial my dad’s house number, but no answer, so I try his cellphone. It’s been disconnected. I hang up, glancing around the kitchen as I attempt to figure out what to do next. I could tell my mom if she’s here, or my brother. Though, even if one of them is sober, they’d never believe me.

Not able to think of another solution, I do something that I know is stupid. I call the police to report my dad’s death, and as the words leave my lips, I swear I hear the Reaper’s laughter echoing around me.

When I wake up, I’m surrounded by a thin cloud of mist that quickly dissolves. I can tell my wings are still out by the way it feels like I’m lying on a pile of pillows. I’m not sure where I am. In a bed, that much I can tell, but the room I’m in looks like it belongs to a cottage. The walls are made of wood. Vines and flowers grow across the banisters in the ceiling. There’s a dresser in the corner and a mirror on the farthest wall. There are also paintings on the walls; some of landscapes, some of Angels, others are abstracts, full of vibrant colors and intricate shapes.

“Where am I?” I mutter, blinking my eyes.

“You’re somewhere safe where the Reaper’s can’t get to you.” The sound of Asher’s voice kisses my skin, but at the same time it repulses me, something hidden inside me shouts to stay away from him, that I need—want—to hear someone else’s voice. Someone that calls me princess.

I shove the voice out of my mind and rotate my head to the side. Asher appears through the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s changed his clothes and is now wearing a plain grey shirt, dark jeans and boots. His inky black hair is a little damp like he just got out of the shower while the tiredness in his eyes has diminished only slightly.

“How are you feeling?” he asks with caution, his gaze skimming every inch of me as I sit up.