Scattered Ashes Page 4

  "That's not a possibility," she says, reaching for my hand, but then pulls back, realizing she can't touch me. "At least not for me."

  A few more tears fall from my eyes before what she's saying really sinks in "Wait a minute. Are you saying it can be done? That someone can die then return to their body and come back to life?"

  She wavers. "Perhaps. If done correctly and by someone who knows what they're really doing."

  My thoughts drift back to my nightmare, to the crows, the coffin, and how I lay awake inside it, yet everyone thought I was dead.

  "Am I . . . Am I going to do it?"

  She nods with the faintest smile. "You are, but it's not going to be easy."

  "But what about Alex? Is he going to die, too, and come back?"

  She shakes her head and clasps onto my hand. "No, sweetie. He's the one who's going to bring you back."

  ALEX

  I tuck the address into my pocket then step out from behind the dumpster and into the moonlight. I'm still uncertain how I feel about what just happened with Draven, whether I like the answer he gave me about my mother or what I offered to get it--a year of my life to the Lord of the Afterlife, which means doing whatever he wants me to do.

  What the idiot doesn't realize is that my life is probably going to be over soon, so really, none of this matters. Only one thing does, at least to me, and that's saving the girl I might just be in love with.

  Love. Am I really there?

  The idea is mind-blowing. All those years I spent being beaten by my father and being forced to ignore my emotions, I thought he broke me. I thought was broken beyond being replaced, and now here I am, contemplating love, even though it could kill me.

  Shaking my thoughts away, I head out to the street lined with burning buildings and mad chaos. Ignoring the feeding vampires that seem to be accumulating everywhere I make a left and stride toward the corner of the sidewalk. Each vampire, witch, and fey glance at me, hunger gleaming in their eyes as I hurry by them. They can sense what I am, know I'm not an easy target, so instead, they focus right back on tormenting humans.

  I should stop them, but I'm in too much of a fucking hurry to find a witch so I can get where I need to go and make all of this right. I never considered what a huge pain in the ass it would be to not have a witch on hand or a very talented Foreseer to make traveling easier.

  Just thinking of Gemma makes my fingers ache to touch her again, to return to the dream. It makes me desperate to get back to her, to hold her, kiss her, lose myself inside her.

  Growing uncomfortable with where my emotions are heading, I force the thought of Gemma out of my head, despite it feeling like it's going to kill me. If I don't, then I know I'll cave and return to her. And I can't do that yet, not until I find a way to save her. She deserves to live the life that was stolen from her, and I'm not going to give up. I'll keep searching for a way to make this right. Forever, just like I promised.

  As I'm about to veer right, I spot a woman across the street with a crescent moon and star mark on her neck. Perfect, just what I was looking for.

  I stride across the street with a purpose, sidestepping around an injured faerie sprawled on the asphalt, begging me to help him.

  Humans aren't the only ones in danger. The faeries, vampires, and witches who don't bear the Mark of Malefiscus are also targets, which pretty much adds more insanity to the madness.

  Although the witch sees me coming and grins, she is fidgety and on edge as she peers around. "Can I help you with something?" she asks, but her voice carries a threat

  I raise my shirt to show her my Keeper's mark on my ribcage. "Still want to use that tone on me, witch?" Honestly, I'm not sure how she is going to react to my cocky attitude. If she has the Mark of Malefiscus, she might try to kill me. But I need a witch. Like fucking now. If she goes crazy on me, then I simply take her out.

  "What do you want?" Her tone is icy, her gaze narrowing on me.

  I lower my shirt. "I need you to perform a spell for me."

  Her pale blue eyes are locked on me, but she seems nervous, which has me wondering if she's just a normal witch, not under the possession of evil.

  Good, then I won't have to kill her.

  "What kind of a spell?" She glances up and down the street as a brick building suddenly erupts in flames.

  "A transporting one." I step onto the curb. "I need to get somewhere quick, and transportation right now is really fucking limited."

  The corners of her mouth quirk. "I could do that for you, but I need something from you in return."

  I shake my head in annoyance. This journey is really starting to test my patience. "What the fuck do you want?"

  "Your help." Her grin broadens. "With removing a mark."

  I pretend to have no clue what the hell she's talking about, but I'm tense inside, worried she might know more about me than I want her to.

  "I can't help you with that."

  "I know you can't," she says, "but you know someone who can." Without explaining further, she grabs my arm and steers me into another alley. The noise quiets as we step farther into the shadows and away from the street.

  "I heard a rumor there's a Keeper who possesses Wicca powers," she whispers when we're out of earshot from anyone. "And she's created a spell that can remove the Mark of Evil."

  Aislin?

  "Look"--I pry her fingers from my arm, trying to keep my cool--"even if that's true, if there is a witch who can do that, it doesn't mean I know her."

  "Fine, if that's how you feel, then I guess I can't help you." She turns to leave.

  "Fuck," I curse under my breath then grab ahold of her arm and pull her back. "You get me to where I need to go first, and then I'll help you find this witch."

  She nods before a warm smile comes over her face as she slips from my hold and sticks out her hand. "I'm Amelia, by the way," she says, and I shake her hand. Then she waits for me to give her my name, but I don't, so she starts back down the alley, signaling for me to follow her.

  She leads me out to the street and to the nearest building that isn't on fire. It's a small space, covered with shelves that carry headless dolls, odd-shaped cat statues, and lots of strange incense. She locks the door behind us then rushes for an armoire in the far back corner. Then she unlocks the main drawer with a key she fishes from her bag then removes a black candle and purple amethyst before setting them down on a small, oval table.

  A scream comes from somewhere as she lights the candle, and my hand instinctively moves for my knife.

  "That's my daughter," she explains. "That's why I need your help. She's cursed with the mark that haunts the streets and possesses the mind with madness."

  I keep my hand close to my pocket. "Where is she?"

  "Chained to the wall upstairs." She pulls a red pill out of her pocket, sets it down on the table, and smiles up at me. "Whenever you're ready.

  I roll my eyes. "You seriously think I'm going to take a mortem pilula?"

  "You are if you want me to help you." She slides the pill toward me. "This way assures me you'll hold your end of the deal. No offense, but a Keeper's word means nothing to me."

  Growling with frustration, I snatch the pill from the table, realizing screwing her over isn't possible, because if I do, I'll drop dead.

  I pop the pill into my mouth and force it down my throat. "There. Are you happy now?"

  She smiles, satisfied, and then gestures for me to take a seat. Once I'm sitting, she asks, "So, where am I taking you exactly?" She starts to dip the amethyst toward the flame.

  "To Niveo Mountain," I tell her, feeling nervous the moment I say it.

  She jerks the amethyst away from the flame. "To the Keeper's Castle?"

  "Yeah, but that's not where we're going." I push the candle toward her, growing impatient. "We're going to the graveyard nearby it."

  GEMMA

  "Well don't I feel honored," Nicholas says as I barge into my room, fuming mad. He's sitting in the windowsill, looking as unbothered
as ever. "A visit from two Lucas's. What's the occasion?"

  "Shut the hell up." I stride toward him, battling back the overwhelming compulsion to wring his neck. "You're already on the shit list."

  "I'm always on the shit list." He yawns as if I'm boring him to death. "In fact, I think I might even hold the top slot on it."

  I march for the faerie, wishing to God that I could actually get my hands on him. "You knew all along what I had to do, and yet you wasted weeks of my time, of everyone's time. You let people die, and now there's hardly any time left until December twenty-first."

  He jumps to his feet, grinning with his hands out in front of him "That's because you kept asking the wrong questions."

  I clench my hands into fists, stopping just short of him. "God, I wish I could just . . ." I growl in frustration.

  "Just what?" he asks curiously. "Hurt me? Kill me? Because deep down, I really think all that aggression can only be taken care of by letting me fuck it out of you."

  I elevate my fist, ready to strike, even though I'll only hit air.

  "Gemma," my mom says softly, appearing at my side. "You need to move past your anger with him. You have more important things to focus on."

  Although it takes a lot of effort, I manage to keep my rage under control. "How do I get to the Afterlife?" I ask Nicholas as calmly as I can.

  Of course, he decides to test my patience even more. "The what?"

  "You know, the land of the lost souls, the Afterlife where the queen reigns." I glare at him. "How about that? Is that the right question?"

  He claps his hands, laughing. "Bravo, but I might add how slow you are at getting there."

  "Fuck you," I grit out through my teeth, but when my mom says my name again, I force the fakest smile I can muster. "How do I get there?"

  His gaze flicks to my mother. "Why doesn't she just tell you? She's a ghost. She should know."

  Tears sting at my eyes from the reminder that my mom is dead. "She doesn't know how to get there. For some reason, she can't cross over. But you're a faerie--and a dead one at that--which gives you direct contact to the queen since she's fey."

  "Didn't I explain to you once that I'm only half-fey?" he asks. "And that makes other fey, dead or not, not very fond of me."

  "Are you sure that's the real reason?" I snap. "Because I'm sure your amazing personality helps, too."

  He shoots me a dirty look, but then he grins wickedly. "You know what? I really don't feel like talking to you, not with that kind of attitude." He stuffs his hands into his pockets and backs toward the window. But then he stops and reaches forward, letting his hand slip through my body, painfully reminding me that I can't do anything to him, at least physically. "Perhaps if you are really, really nice to me, I might be more willing." His gaze deliberately scrolls up and down my body, making my skin crawl.

  "You're such a--"

  A gust of wind flows around me as my mother zooms straight into Nicholas. She grabs him, her hands circling his neck.

  "You can't make me say anything," he says with a choked laugh as she slams his body into the wall.

  My mom looks in my direction, looking wildly out of her mind, like she's lost touch with her humanity. "I'll be back in a while," she says. "Don't go anywhere."

  My jaw drops as the two ghosts dissipate, and the room grows empty again. My legs immediately give out on me, and I flop down on my bed and let the tears out.

  My mom's gone.

  She's gone, and I'm never getting to know her.

  I'm alone.

  Always alone.

  My hand drops to my stomach.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Well, not completely alone.

  I allow myself five minutes to lose my shit before I suck it up then go find Laylen and Aislin to tell them what is going on. But when I enter the hall, the house is eerily silent. Fear courses through my body as I step back into my room to get the knife Alex gave me from my dresser drawer. With a weapon in hand, I pad down the hall toward Laylen's room. My hand is steady, my Keeper blood manifesting, but every time I face danger, my heart still pounds insanely.

  When I reach Laylen's room, I hesitantly press my ear to the door to listen, but I can't hear anything, so I gently push it open. The room is empty and soundless. I start to turn around to check downstairs, but my shoulder bumps into something solid.

  I jumped back, startled, but then relax when I see Laylen standing in the doorway, his blonde hair ruffled, his lips oddly a little swollen.

  I press my hand to my heart. "Shit, you scared me."

  He eyeballs my knife then cocks a brow. "What are you doing with that?"

  I shrug, lowering the knife to my side. "It seemed too quiet, and I thought maybe something was going on."

  He takes the knife out of my hand and tosses in on the dresser. "You're going to hurt yourself."

  "Hey," I say, "give me some credit. I'm not as klutzy as I used to be."

  He doesn't smile, only steps toward me and backs me into the room. Then he closes the door and locks it, sending red flags popping up everywhere.

  "What's wrong?" I ask, gripping the foot of the bed.

  He shakes his head, his gaze never wavering from me. "I don't think I've ever told you how thankful I am for you never judging me." He picks up the knife and drags the blade across his palm. "You accepted me, even when I was at my worst, even when I was pure fucking evil."

  "Laylen, just because you're a vampire, it doesn't mean you're evil." I want to touch him, to try to comfort him, but the dark look in his eyes stops me. "You're good. You just don't realize it."

  "Still . . . you trust me. It's never made any sense."

  "Of course I trust you," I say, but right now, I'm not so sure. "Sometimes I trust you more than anyone."

  His lips curl into a grin. "I know." He moves in front of me and traces his fingers down my arm, causing me to shiver. He smiles as he notices. "You have the softest skin."

  I try to remain calm. This is just Laylen. There's nothing to worry about.

  "Is something wrong?"

  "You know, I never thanked you for that day in the alley," he says, his hand traveling up to my shoulder. "When you saved my life, letting me bite you like that, it was really fucking amazing . . . You tasted really fucking amazing"

  I shift uncomfortably, remembering the bite and all the feelings that came with it. He's right; it was amazing, way, way too amazing. Just thinking about it causes my body to tremble and my pulse to quicken.

  He smiles like he can sense what I'm feeling.

  "I couldn't let you die," I whisper.

  "But you could have." His fingers press against my neck, right where my pulse is throbbing. "You didn't have to let me bite you, yet you did."

  "No, I had to." My voice cracks as lust fills his eyes. "I couldn't let you die."

  He wets his lips with his tongue. "God, you smell so good."

  "Are you okay? You seem kind of . . ." I start to inch away from him, but he grabs my wrist.

  "Kind of what?"

  "Off."

  The hunger in his expression causes me to jerk back, but his fingers constrict around my wrist, securing me in place.

  "Off how?" He cups the base of my throat and strokes my skin. "You're so beautiful right now, all flushed and turned on, even though you won't admit it."

  Something's definitely wrong. This isn't the Laylen I know.

  I grip his hand, trying to lift it from my neck. "I don't think--"

  He slaps his hand across my mouth. "Stop talking," he hisses, and then fangs slide out from his lips, murderous blood seekers ready to devour me.

  I yank away, but he snatches ahold of both my wrists and jerks me against him. His body is cold like ice, but his breath is hot against my neck.

  "You smell so good . . . I just can't . . . can't . . ." He growls before his fangs sink into my neck, and he pushes me onto the bed.

  I scream, but his fangs only dig deeper.

  ALEX

  D
raven wasn't lying. I had my doubts about the Lord of the Afterlife telling the truth, but here it is, my mother's gravestone, exactly like he said.

  I left Amelia back at the iron-barred entrance, wanting to visit my mom's grave alone. Her headstone is plain, only the initials A. A. marking it. There's no mention of her being a mother, no date of her death. If I was just been passing through, I never would've given the stone a second glance. To most, she's probably no one. To me, she's the only link to my past that doesn't cause agonizing pain.

  In her journal, she wrote that she worried my father was going to kill her because she knew things she wasn't supposed to. She worried he'd find out her secret. But if all else failed, she'd give her soul to the Afterlife so she could one day reunite with Aislin and me and put a stop to my father's evil plan.

  She knew everything. Then she died, and almost everyone forgot about her.

  I place my palm to the headstone, wondering how she died, where she was when she breathed her last breath. Was she in pain? Most of all, I wonder where she is now, because if what Draven told me is right, this is just where her body is, not her spirit.

  As I glance up at the hill a ways away, the one that hides the Keepers castle, anger blasts through me, a deadly storm. Before I can even comprehend what I'm doing, I storm across the graveyard. The wind howls as I bash my fist into a tree trunk repeatedly until my knuckles bleed, and the emotional pain inside me is overridden with physical pain.

  "Fuck!" I kick the shit out of the tree until I can't breathe, and then I rest my head against the bark, trying to calm the fuck down "Come on. Get you shit together."

  Counting to ten, I push away from the tree and finish the walk back to the gate.

  "Did you find what you were looking for?" Amelia asks as I stride up to her.

  I stop in front of her and cross my arms. "I need you to take me somewhere else."

  She narrows her eyes and shakes her head. "No way. Not until you take me to the witch who can remove the mark."

  "Look," I say with zero tolerance, "I get that you need to remove your daughter's mark, but I need to make a stop first. It's important."

  She jabs a finger against my chest. "Maybe you need to be reminded of our bargain?"