Ember (Death Collectors, Book 1) Page 3

  Annoyance burns in her eyes. “Are you just being a pain because you’re here, or is your little death thing putting you in a bad mood?”

  My gaze swiftly sweeps the room and I hiss, “Lower your voice. Someone might hear you.”

  She waves her hands animatedly. She’s completely wasted and her split personality is coming out. “Oh, big news over here! Little Emmy can see death! Does anyone care?!”

  I pour her drink into the garbage can. “No more drinks for you.”

  She snarls, about to spit foul words. But a lanky guy, sporting dark jeans and a black T-shirt, interrupts us. “Death is everywhere, my friends. And it will all eventually catch up to us, so what’s the point of running from it. Instead, we should live life to the fullest.” His green eyes are outlined with black eyeliner and crossbones tattoo his wrists. He drapes his arm around Raven’s shoulder and drunkenly staggers forward, inadvertently bumping his knee into mine.

  A heavy mass takes over my body. Black water. Trees. Rain pouring down from the dark sky. Glass everywhere. Blood… they can’t breathe… they can’t breathe! Feathers fall to the ground. I gasp, nearly choking on how much it resembles my father’s crime scene where his car was found.

  “Does that scare you?” His eyes scrutinize me, noting the gothic tone of my clothes. “By the looks of you, I wouldn’t think it would. But hey, maybe you’re just a poser.”

  “You know, you shouldn’t judge people by their looks.” I let my hair screen my face and I close my eyes. I don’t want to look at him. His life is approaching the end, the last rose petal about to wilt from the fading stem. I tuck my hair behind my ear and sigh. “You got a ‘DD’?”

  “What the hell’s a ‘DD’?” he slurs, stumbling, and spills his drink on the floor.

  I rub the sides of my temples. Idiot. “Do everyone, including yourself, a favor and don’t drive home tonight. Okay?”

  The guy lets out a sardonic laugh. “What is that, like an omen or something?” He holds up his hands. “Ooo, scary...” He pauses and the recollection clicks. “Hey, wait a minute. Aren’t you that girl who killed her dad?”

  I swallow hard. “No, I think you’re thinking of someone else.”

  His glazed over eyes squint at my face. “No, I’m pretty sure it was you. Didn’t you like, call the police and confess, then like run...” He blunders over his feet and grabs my arm for support. Again, I’m blasted with the burden of his impending death. “Wait… what was I saying again?”

  I slip my arm free and scoot back from the drunken idiot. “You were saying that you need to quit drinking.”

  “Are you feeling okay, Em?” Raven asks, her voice laced with concern. “You look a little pale.”

  “I always look pale,” I say. “And I have a headache.” Our code for I’m having a death episode.

  “Oh, I get it.” She coils a strand of her hair around her finger and flutters her eyelashes as she conjures up a plan. “Oh! Okay, I got it.”

  Goth boy looks back and forth between us. “Got what? Wait a minute? Are you two fighting over little old me?” He grins and I roll my eyes. “Don’t worry, ladies, there’s plenty of Laden love to go around.”

  Raven’s hand falls from Laden’s chest and she pulls a face, no longer interested in him. But she puts on her game face. “Hey, why don’t you and I go dance.” She laces her fingers with his, and leans in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek and I wince. “I’m sorry for acting crazy.” She sways her hips as she leads Laden toward the dance floor. Before she vanishes into the crowd, she peeks over her shoulder and mouths: I’ll get his keys.

  I lean against the wall, let my head fall back, and shut my eyes. “Breathe, Ember, breathe. You can’t stop death—it’s endless.”

  “God, it’s like mating season in here,” a deep male voice whispers.

  The softness of his breath tickles my ear. I shudder and stumble forward, tripping over my feet, and stepping on the toe of his shoes. Actually, boots; black ones with little silver skulls on the buckles. I like his boots. My eyes slowly travel upward; dark jeans, a plaid shirt over a black T-shirt, and a skull necklace hooks around his neck. There’s a sequence of leather bands on his wrists and a metal loop threads his eyebrow. His inky black hair dangles in his eyes and hangs shaggily down over his ears.

  His slate grey eyes tantalize my skin as he takes me in. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  The sound of his voice causes soft vibrations over my skin. “Sorry about your shoes.” I retreat backward, putting space between us. The last thing I want is to find out when this gorgeous guy dies. “Crowded rooms just make me a little uneasy.”

  He laughs softly and tosses his cup into the trash. “I know what you mean. All this,” he motions at the people grinding against one another, “is an excuse for the opposite sex to rub up on one another.”

  “That’s a pretty good observation.” I almost smile.

  He presses his lips together and leans over my shoulder. I stiffen, worried he’ll touch me and this magical moment will end. But he’s careful, leaving a sliver of space between his lips and my ear. “Take those two for instance. I think they’ve got their own mating ritual going on. Although, I think it might be a one-sided mating ritual.”

  I turn and follow his gaze. Raven is dancing with Laden. She has one hand on his hip and the other on his back pocket. Laden moves all over the place like he’s trying to break dance and disco at the same time. Raven captures my gaze and rolls her eyes.

  “I think you’re right.” I turn and meet the beautiful stranger’s eyes. “It looks like she’s bored.”

  He leans away. “Is she a friend of yours?”

  “Her name’s Raven.” I wonder if he likes her. Most guys do, which has never bothered me. Raven’s bold and flirty—everything I’m not.

  “Like the poem?” He cocks his pierced eyebrow.

  “You know Edgar Allan Poe?” I ask, not expecting much because The Raven is one of Edgar Allan Poe’s more legendary poems.

  “A little bit.” He stares at me like he’s trying to unravel a maze. “And what’s your name?”

  “Ember.” I inch forward, holding my breath as a girl wobbles by, waving her finger, chewing out the air.

  “Ember… I like it.” He inches closer. “’And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor,’” he quotes a line from Poe’s The Raven.

  “I thought you said you knew a little?” I ask, impressed.

  He shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “What can I say? I’m fascinated with the idea… love, death, and the insanity it brings.”

  Growing uncomfortable with his mention of death, I scan the crowd for Raven. “Trust me, death isn’t that fascinating.” I’m slightly nervous I can’t find Raven. I turn back to the mysterious stranger. “It was nice talking to you, but I need to…” I glance around. “Where did she go?” I check up the stairway and then browse the crowd. The top of Raven’s pink head is bobbing up and down in the middle. A band is setting up their instruments at the front of the room—things are about to get hectic. Inhaling, I tuck in my shoulders and weave around the edge of the room, careful not to come into contact with anyone.

  “Raven!” I holler over the music. The pink wig descends further into the crowd. I press my back against the wall and edge my way toward her.

  Remy, a short girl with black hair and choppy bangs, stands up on a chair. “Alright guys! Are you ready?” She motions her heavily tattooed arms at the band. “Give it up for Breaking Up Mayhem!”

  The guitarist flares at the guitar strings and the singer shouts. “Is everyone ready?!”

  Okay, time to bail, before things get out of—

  The band begins to play a raging song and everyone goes wild. The house rocks and bottles rattle against the hardwood floor. Elbows and shoulders smack into me. Death courses through my veins.

  “I can’t breathe.” I rush toward the door. Blood. Pain. The silence of a heart… the shadow of trees… the bl
ackened lake. Bones breaking. Someone can’t breathe. It hurts… there’s so much blood. A last breath is strangled away. A red “X” stains it all. An empty hourglass. Murder. My body twitches. I seek the faces of the people nearby, but I can’t tell who the death omen belongs to. I trail my fingers along bodies. Hospital bed. Old age. Broken heart. Sacrifice. I can’t endure it any longer. I knock people out of my way as I run for the front door.

  “Hey, watch it!” someone shouts.

  I burst through the door. Two guys are drinking beer on the front porch. I shove them out of the way, ignoring their death omens, and sprint across the trashed front yard. I stop in the middle of the lawn, panting and dripping with sweat. The moon is a bright orb, the stars cut the sky like diamonds, and the forest and mountains shield the illegal party.

  I hunch over, brace my hands on my knees, and slow my breathing. “Get it together, Ember,” I whisper to myself. “Death is death, in any shape or form. You can’t stop it.” I pull myself together and head back to the log cabin, ready to find Raven and tell her it’s time to leave. Cars are lined bumper to bumper, blocking the driveway. A rusted black Cadillac drives slowly, the wheels half on the grass and half on the gravel. Through the tinted windows, a bubblegum haired girl winks her sapphire blue eye at me.

  “Raven… What are you doing?” I wave at her and hurry toward the car. She knows better than to get into a car with some random guy, especially one I just had a death omen about. “Get out of the car!”

  She blows me a kiss, and tips her head back laughing as the car speeds off, kicking up dirt and gravel.

  “Damn it!” I chase the car down the driveway and into the trees, following it all the way to the highway, where it vanishes into the night. Out of breath, I stare down the desolate road and tug my fingers through my hair. “Shit.” I pull out my cell phone. “No signal.” I run back down the driveway to my car, a beat-up 1970s Dodge Challenger, wedged between a truck and a massive SUV. The car belonged to my dad. We were working on fixing it up, but then he disappeared. It’s been three years since it happened, but it still hurts to think about him. Especially because I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.

  I pat my pockets for the keys. “Where are my keys?” Trying not to panic, I retrace my steps as far as the front porch. “Come on. Come on. Where are they?”

  “You lose somethin’, sweetheart?” a guy with greasy hair and a thick neck says. He looks like a wannabe Danny Zuko, with his sideburns and leather jacket. Except he has this strange black “X” tattoo crossing his eye.

  I back down the stairs. “Nope, I’m good.”

  He chugs the last of his drink, crushes his cup, and chucks it over the railing into the bushes. There’s something in his eyes that I don’t like. “You sure?” he asks. “Because I could help you with whatever.”

  “No thanks.” I keep walking backwards, for my car, too uneasy to take my eyes off him. “I got everything I need.”

  “Hey, aren’t you that girl that killed her dad?” he asks as he skulks down the porch stairs.

  My eyes never waver from him, even as someone passes close by and nearly bumps into me. “I think you’re thinking of someone else because my dad’s not dead.”

  “You know, I saw someone messin’ around with your car,” he hollers out. I stop, curious even though the guy’s a total creeper. “That Challenger over there—that’s yours, right?”

  I nod. “Um… yeah…”

  He advances toward me, lengthy strides that put him close quickly. “There was some guy that came around here just a few minutes ago. He got in it, messed around, and then left.”

  So maybe my keys were stolen, not lost. “Thanks. I’ll make sure nothing’s missing.”

  A shady look masks his face. “I could give you a ride home, just in case.” His hand snaps out and he grasps my elbow with his painted black fingernails. They press deep into my skin and send a revolting sensation through my blood, thick like oil. I gag on the bitter taste. Blood stains his hands. He stumbles through the night, to the edge of the rooftop. A dark cape flaps behind him. He smiles and leaps.

  He releases my arm and a smirk creeps across his lips. “Tell me, Ember, have you ever danced with death or been paid a visit by the Reaper?”

  “Back the hell off.” I reel for my car and hop into the front seat. The guy retreats for the house. My heart settles, but his words linger in my mind. Does he know about my curse?

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize to the car, then grab a screwdriver from under the seat and pry off the panel. I yank out the correct wires, twist them together and pump on the gas pedal. The engine revs to life and “The Kill” by 30 Seconds to Mars blasts through the speakers. I carefully set the wires back in and slam the car door shut.

  My dad and I used to steal cars. When I was young, I’d sit in the backseat while he worked his hotwiring magic. However, when I reached my early teens, he taught me how to do it. I was his protégé. At twelve years old, I couldn’t see the bigger picture; that the situation was messed up and a small sign that my dad would eventually lose his mind.

  I crank the steering wheel to the side and ramp onto the grass. The greasy haired guy eyes me from the porch as I cut across the front lawn and peel out down the driveway.

  The trees blur by as I zoom down the road that threads between the lake and the mountain. When the tires reach the asphalt, I throttle the gas pedal to the floor, hoping Laden and Raven will remain on the highway and hopefully I can catch up with them.

  By accident, I saw Raven’s death once. I’m usually very carefully not to touch people, especially ones that are close to me. I don’t want to know how it ends for them, how I’ll lose them, how I’ll hate myself for not saving them. But when Raven and I were younger, we were playing in Raven’s tree house. Raven had tripped and landed near the edge, almost falling off. By instinct, I reached to grab her. Once my fingers touched her arm, I wanted to erase everything. What I saw. Our friendship. Raven will die young, in a very painful and terrifying way. It will happen by the water, during a rainstorm, just like Laden’s death. Only her life will be stolen.

  Clouds blanket the sky, the moon and stars are fading, and the air smells fresh like before a rainstorm. I try not to panic and speed up. I don’t look at how fast I’m going, but I’m not scared. My death will come when it’s time, just like everyone else’s. It will happen on a dark night, a faint light will sparkle, and I’ll be alone. I don’t know when, though. And I’m thankful for that. If anyone knew when they’d die, the fear and obsession to change it would own them and they’d have no life to save.

  Headlights reflect in my mirror and a car rides up on my tail. “Back off, asshole,” I mutter, adjusting my mirror.

  The car edges closer until it’s only inches away from crashing into mine. A sharp corner approaches, so I tap the brakes. Nothing happens. I stomp on the brake, but the car accelerates faster down the hill. The corner emerges. I try to down shift, but the engine grumbles. Sucking in a deep breath, I crank the steering wheel to the right. The car spins and the tires screech. The front of my car crashes into the railing and the sound is deafening, like a train roaring up the railroad tracks.

  There’s a split second where my car hovers over the edge, like it might not fall. A raven dives down and lands on the hood. But the tailgater slams into the rear end. My head smashes against the windshield, the car flips, and rolls down the hill. My seatbelt locks and I’m jerked back to the seat. My body is stabbed, beaten, broken. Then the car hits the lake. Suddenly it becomes clear: I’m going to die today.

  Death feels natural, like breathing. The water pierces my skin and floods the cab of the car. I unclip my seatbelt and float to the roof, pressing my head to the ceiling. It’s dark and the water is up to my neck. I let my legs float upward and I kick the side window with the heel of my boot until my calf muscles ache. I run my fingers along the door and grasp the handle. Then I wait for the water to completely fill the cab.

  My dad was big on survival. H
e taught me things like how to escape a car when it’s submerged in water. If the water’s low enough, the door will open. But once it reaches a certain point, the pressure of the water inside has to equalize with the pressure of the water on the outside. Which means I have to wait for the car to completely fill up the cab, without drowning first.

  I remain calm as the water rises and rises. I slant my head back and take a deep breath before the water suffocates me completely. Immediately, I flip the handle, but it snaps off. Bubbles escape my mouth as I bang on the door. The black water encases the cab and I swim for the other door, but I smack into the roof, which is concaved, forming a wall. I twirl around and bang my fist on the windshield. It’s dark. Cold. The car sinks further into the lake.

  My eyes stay open as bubbles gurgle from my mouth. I can’t see. I can’t breathe. Death is no longer peaceful. The air slips away, my heart dies, and my necklace floats off my neck. The water stills. Am I dead? The metal of the car crunches as it buckles beneath the weight of the water.