Cinder X
Author: Jessica Sorensen
Date: 1900-06-15 08:08:09+00:00
Keywords: Young Adult; Romance; Fiction; Fantasy; Supernatural; Urban Fantasy; New Adult; Adult; Paranormal; Angels
Description: (New adult paranormal version of my young adult book, Cinder (Death Collectors, #2). It contains more violence and more sexual content.) Mature Content Advisory Recommended for readers 17+ due to sexual situations and language. Until Asher Morgan came along, nineteen-year old Ember’s life had always been about death. Being around Asher, though, and being able to be near him and touch him, changed her and made her feel alive for the very first time. But now he’s gone and she’s left dealing with her seclusion again, the emptiness of not being able to be touched, and the curse of the Grim Angel.
Publisher: Createspace

Cinder X (Death Collectors, #2)

By Jessica Sorensen

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2013 by Jessica Sorensen

First Paperback Edition: November 2013

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

For information:

http://jessicasorensen.com

Cover Design and Photo by Mae I Design and Photography

www.maeidesign.com

Cinder X—Death Collectors, Book 2

ISBN : 978-1490416694

Table of Contents:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Prologue

My life has become a series of book pages, dead bodies, death omens, Angels and Reapers. That’s it. I go to school, come home, read, and then fall asleep in the silence of my house while feeling the lingering sensation of death omens that I’ve felt that day. When I shut my eyes, I see the faces of the dead I saw—my curse, my weakness, my torture.

Today was a rough day because I saw Asher, or so I thought, but when I went up to him, it was just a guy with black hair who looked like him. When I stopped the guy, shouting out Asher’s name, he looked at me like I was a lunatic, especially when he realized I was Ember Rose Edwards, town weirdo that everyone believes is a murderer.

I ended up leaving school early and going home to read, like I do every day, hoping I can find something that will give me a clue as to what the hell my purpose is. What I face in the future if I become the last Grim Angel standing. How I will know when I am the last one standing. Or, better yet, how I can get rid of the Anamotti, a secret society group of Reapers who banded together to eliminate the Grim Angels one by one, including me.

I’ve become a huge target with them lately and fighting the insanity by myself, well, it’s getting harder. I feel my mind bending in ways I haven’t thought were possible. I black out sometimes. Hear voices. See death. And the worst part is, I have no one.

I stop writing as the painful truth throbs in my chest. I stare down at the page I just filled up with pretty much the same words as the day before. “God, I’m becoming so repetitive.” Deciding I need a break from writing, I close my journal and exchange it for a book; the one Raven gave me about Grim Reapers and Angels of Death during the Halloween dance about a month ago. I recline against the headboard of my bed, propping my knees up and putting the book on my lap. Then I find the spot where I left off last night, where the topic shifts from how a Reaper removes a soul to some sort of hidden realm.

There is a place between life and death where souls that carry the blood of the Reapers can roam freely. It’s known as the shadow realm, a barrier between life and death. The area allows Reapers to see into the world yet stay undetected, hidden in a shadow which cannot be seen by anyone that doesn’t possess Reaper blood. This allows them to wreak havoc on unsuspecting victims…

Shadow realm? Is that how Reapers stay so well hidden? How they can appear out of nowhere?

In the warped and twisted part of my mind, I wonder if I can see this shadow realm since I have Reaper blood inside me. I wonder if I could enter it. I wonder what this means about me. How much evil thrives inside me, how much of my Reaper blood owns me?

I decide to add the shadow realm information to the list on the wall of stuff I’ve discovered about Grim Angels over the last few weeks, which isn’t a hell of a lot, but it’s better than nothing. I grab a marker from my nightstand and move to the Angel painted on my wall that Raven drew. Below the feet, I’ve started a list of things I’ve discovered about Grim Angels:

1) Grim Angels can see death.

2) They experience blackouts, lose track of time, and sometimes hear voices.

3) They were created because there was a battle over the control of human’s souls between the Angels of Death and Grim Reapers.

4) Angel and Reaper blood runs through Grim Angel veins to create a balance between the species so neither of them can steal souls.

5) They’re what binds Angels and Reapers to earth as a punishment for getting in the battle to begin with, which makes them a target of torture even though they’re supposed to remain untouched. Reapers have broken the rules, though, and try to drive Grim Angels into insanity or to give into their evil blood.

The problem with number five is that the only person who can punish the Reapers and Angels for breaking the rules is their leader, and Asher told me his leader, Michael, won’t do that. Then there’s the fact that, of course, the Reaper’s leader doesn’t give a shit. It’s a weeding out process for them to get to the last Grim Angel because the last one standing has to make a choice; if good or bad will rule over all souls. If the Reapers or Angels will win. There’s more to it than that, though. One of Asher’s last words was that I needed to find out what happened to the last Grim Angel, but I have yet to discover anything about that.

This’s all I’ve really discovered so far and it’s frustrating.

I sigh and pen another fact below the list:

6) Shadow Realm—those with Reaper blood in them can hide in this place between life and death, go around unnoticed, torturing their victims.

After I’m finished, I put the pen down and go back to reading, hoping for more answers.

Since
Grim Reapers walk around without their victims knowing they exist, they have easy access into their thoughts and the way they make decisions. It allows them to torture in the most maddening ways. Most of the Reapers have spent time in the realm, enjoying their true nature of observing humans before they take their souls.

I shudder, thinking of how Cameron has spied on me many times and how I always wondered how he did it.

However, the Grim Reapers are more known for watching Grim Angels behind the veil than anything. Although many believe that Grim Reapers simply want to torture Grim Angels in order to win the battle and win souls, there are some that believe there is a deeper reason for the madness. There have been several reports made over the centuries of Reapers taking the souls of the Grim Angels and collecting them for purposes unknown. There have also been many speculations of these purposes ranging from gaining power to achieving the ultimate immortality.

It was once believed that Grim Angels’ souls were untouchable because they neither belong to the Angels, the Reapers or the humans, since they’re a balance of all three. And there are many that still believe that to be true, however the facts show that Grim Reapers have found ways around these rules and there have been reports of them not only being able to steal innocent souls even after the battle, but have also stolen Grim Angel souls, which hold more power than any other soul, since they’re connected to all three worlds. But for a very long time the question still remained: how were they doing it?

After multiple counts of research, I’ve been led to believe that it is possible through the et furabatur de Anima tenebroso. The process of the et furabatur de Anima tenebroso could quite possibly remove the soul of a Grim Angel. Depending on how it is looked at, there is a benefit that could come with removal of a soul with the et furabatur de Anima tenebroso because a Grim Angel’s soul contains a lot of power. In fact it has enough power to free pure souls trapped by Reaper possession.

As the page ends, my heart knocks in my chest at what I just read. I hurry and turn it, eager to read more while also afraid of where this might be going. Afraid that I might read something that could possibly tempt me to give up my own soul to free the people I care about.

Anima tenebroso est fere impossibile furari, non tamen est possibile. Sed determinatio temporis et magnis. De contritione et magnis triste minantes Angeli.

“No… no… no. No.” I quickly fan through the next couple of pages, but have no such luck finding anything I can read. “It’s all written in Latin.”

I comb through the pages for a little bit longer, as though it will somehow miraculously turn the words into English again. But it doesn’t, so I put it aside on my nightstand and go downstairs to get my laptop, hoping I can translate some of the words online.

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.

After a minute or two goes by, I dare to open my eyes and can’t see it anywhere. I check over my body, which seems fine. When I sit up, the shadow is gone and my room empty. And I’m left wondering if something hiding in the Shadow Realm—something that’s been watching me—swept out and took the book because it didn’t want me to find out what was on those pages.

Chapter 1

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.

I chase after it, my legs and hands moving on their own as I retrieve the knife and burst through the door to the outside and into the cold breeze. It’s nearing wintertime and the ground is glazed with ice; the moon massive in the starry sky. The buildings that enclose the alley are vacant, boarded up, closed down. The only signs of life are coming from a burning barrel down the alley to my right with a few homeless people standing around it, talking and drinking what looks like a bottle of whiskey.

I don’t see the Reaper anywhere, but I hear the flap of a cape to my left, so I dash off into that direction.

Hurry, faster.

My legs and fingers tremble as I chase death, even though I don’t want to. At all. Reapers only have one purpose with me and that’s to fuck with my mind and try to drive me to the point of insanity. What if it’s Cameron? What if I get lost in him like I did in the cemetery? What if he tries to take over my body again?

Stop thinking so much and just go to him.

I round the corner of the small building the club’s hidden beneath, slamming to a stop in the dark alley. There’s nothing at the end other than a chain link fence and shadows. Everywhere. Dancing all around me. I’m not sure what’s causing them, although some of them move like the one that was in my room.

Wanting to get the hell out of there while, at the same time, feeling the connection of whatever made me come here breaking, I spin back around to leave. Mid-turn, I hear someone walk up behind me and a soft flap of a cape.

Kill them.

My muscles tighten as I turn on my heels with the knife aimed out. Seconds later, the tip of it knocks against something solid and I end up slashing it straight across their chest. Deep, too. I horridly feel the sensation of the knife enter the fabric then the muscles, nicking a bone. Then blood gushes out as the knife snags their skin and tears it open. As the warm blood splatters over my skin, hair and clothes, I realize that the Reaper is no longer wearing a cape but a jacket, jeans and a torn T-shirt.

Because the Reaper’s not a Reaper, it’s a human.

“Oh my God.” I drop the knife to the ground. I just stabbed someone.

I stare at the person I just stabbed in horror as they clutch their chest and collapse to the asphalt, our gazes locking as he fights to breathe and keep his heart beating.

“I didn’t—what did I...” I drop to my knees beside the guy, the wound still spurting out blood. He looks around my age, blood soaking his hair and clothes, fear in his eyes, like he can see his death, see what’s coming for him. “Shit….” Shock waves through me. I have to do something. Stop this! Help him!

I glance around the empty alleyway and then press my hand down on his chest to attempt to stop the bleeding. As blood soaks against my hand, his death omen soaks my mind. Knife. Stab. Blood on hands and ground. Me, kneeling over him as he takes his last breath.

Oh my God!

What should I do? Run? Call the police? Finish him off?

I shove the last thought from my head and put more pressure on the guy’s chest as it unstably rises and descends. “Just hang on,” I beg, reaching for my phone in my back pocket, knowing that whatever happens, it’s the right thing to do.

He continues to look at me, gasping for air, his lips parting. “I know where your father…” he gasps, choking on a mouthful of blood.

Every muscle in my body winds tightly into knots. “What about my father?”

He shakes his head, blood trickling from his lips and down his chin “I don’t…” he gasps again then the movement of his chest stills and his head slumps to the side.

Terror courses through me as I realize what this means.

That I’ve just committed murder.

Chapter 2

Murder. The word weighs heavily in my mind. I’ve been called a murderer many times since my father disappeared, but there’s never been any real truth behind it.

Yet now there is.

“No,” I whisper, panicking, my hands trembling against his unmoving chest. I straighten my legs and drag my bloody hand through my hair as I stagger back. “No… no… no—”

“No matter how many times you say it, he’s still going to be dead.” The sound of the voice sends a shiver of fear and anger through me. When his breath then caresses the back of my neck, my hairs stand on end. I know I should run, but I’m bound in place, my feet no longer under my control.

“I’ve missed you, princess,” Cameron whispers against my ear then nibbles on my earlobe.

The slight sting of his teeth grazing my skin snaps me out of my trance enough that I’m able to turn around and face him. Through the dark, he still looks as hauntingly beautiful as he did the last time I saw him. His long, black cape flows to the ground with the hood drawn down so I can see his perfectly carved facial features. His eyes blend in with the night, his hair pale as the moonlight, his skin like porcelain and his long, lean arms are outstretched towards me, begging me to come closer.

“Stay away from me,” I manage to say, however I’m unable to back away from him; my arms remain at my sides and my feet are frozen in place. “You have to go… I don’t want you here and if I tell you to leave then you have to.”

He mockingly waves his finger at me, tsking. “Now, Ember, be careful what you ask. I just might do what you tell me to do.” His gaze skims to the dead guy on the ground just behind me, “and then you’ll be left by yourself to clean up the mess.”

“I don’t want your help,” I hiss. “Now leave.”

“Are you sure about that?” he questions with mockery in his tone. “Are you sure you want me to leave you to clean up this mess alone?”

“Y-yes,” I stammer, my confidence draining from me as I stare down at the dead body just behind me and the pool of blood on the ground around him.

He cocks an eyebrow at me as I return my attention to him. “You don’t sound so sure.” He reaches forward and brushes a finger just underneath my chin, shutting his eyes as the moonlight highlights the blissfulness in his expression. “God, how I’ve missed the feel of your skin… so soft.”

For a moment I get swept away by the sound of his voice, but then Asher’s face flashes through my mind and I fling Cameron’s hand off me and stumble back. “How can you miss something you barely touched?” I ask. “You only touched me a few times and only because you took away my willpower.”

His arm falls to his side and a hint of anger flickers in his eyes. “Is that what you tell yourself to make yourself feel better about everything you did with me?”

“I did nothing with you,” I protest. “Nothing I wanted to do, anyway.”

He steps forward, reducing the space between us. “Are you absolutely certain about that? That you felt no connection at all with me? That I didn’t make your body feel things it never has before.” His voice drops to a husky tone as his fingers graze my hips. “That it was all mind control? That your mind is so weak that I can make it do whatever I want just by whispering to you.”

“I…” I open my mouth to argue, but the words are thick in my throat and I realize something. “You’re the one who compelled me here, aren’t you? Like how you made me stay at the cemetery with you—confused me and made my body immobile?” I ask. His silence and condescending expression says it all. “Do you know something about this?” I gesture at the body, remembering what he said just before he died. “The guy said he knew something about my father…. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“Would you feel better about all of this if it was me compelling you here? That I have that much power over you? That I affect you that much?” he asks, avoiding my last question about my dad. “Or worse?”

“I don’t know…” I feel incredibly confused.

“You know what,” Cameron says haughtily. “I think you secretly like me and you won’t admit it.”

I scowl at him. “I…” The words won’t leave my mouth. What is wrong with me? Is it me or Cameron making it impossible for me to deny that I have feelings for him?

The longer the silence drifts between us, the smugger Cameron looks until his ego is so swollen that I seriously want to smack him upside the head. Instead, I reach up and touch his face. His skin is unshaven and rough against my fingers. He lets me feel his face as his eyes stay unreadable. I don’t know why I’m doing it; why I’m touching him. Whether it’s him possessing my mind or that the time I’ve spent away from him has made me realize… something. Everything is so vague, so unknown. All I know is that I can’t control myself.

Finally, he breaks the connection by leaning to the side and glancing at the ground behind me. “That was quite the brutal slaying. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Oh, my God. How have I forgotten in just a few moments that I’ve killed someone? Reality slaps me in the face, hard and cold and sharp.

“I didn’t mean to,” I stammer, my expression falling at the sight of the body and vomit threatens to rise up my throat. “I thought it was you.” I look back at Cameron who’s watching me intently. “And I…”

A wicked smile spreads across his face. “So you were trying to kill me?” he asks amusedly.

“I have no idea what I was trying to do… maybe you should tell me since you seem to have so much control over what I do.”

He assesses me closely, just a few steps away from me. “Well, you missed, if I was the initial target.”

I shake my head. “Obviously.”

“You don’t seem that upset,” he speculates as I rub my hands up and down my arms from the shivers of the cold or perhaps shock, I’m not sure which one.

“I don’t feel anything,” I admit, noting the sudden lack of feeling in my body. “Why is that…?” I abruptly shove him back, but he barely budges. “Wait, are you doing it to me?”

He shrugs nonchalantly while staring at me stoically. “Maybe. If I was, would you want me to stop?”

I hesitate, afraid of feeling the pain that comes with taking a life. How bad will it hurt? As bad or as worse as when I lost my father? “I don’t know…” I struggle with what’s right and wrong, ultimately I nod. “I want to feel it... feel what I did.”

“Very well.” He stares at me and seconds later I’m blasted with emotions so powerful that it feels like I’m going to split open from the pressure. “Are you still sure you want to feel it?” he asks, observing me like I’m the most fascinating thing that’s ever existed. “Because I can numb your body. It’s one of my many talents.” He says it with pride.

“I don’t want to be numb.” I wrap my arms around myself, piercing my fingernails into my skin as I collapse to the ground on my knees. It feels like thousands of needles have lodged into my skin, tearing at me as they fill me with remorse and guilt, fear and confusion. My head is pounding, my heart racing. I feel like I’m going to explode. Or die myself. It’s unbearable. Aching. Noisy

Then it abruptly gets quiet and still.

I angle my chin up at Cameron. “I said I want to feel.”

Cameron rolls his eyes and then bends his knees and crouches down in front of me. “Quit being a drama queen over nothing.”

“Over nothing?” I question through gritted teeth. “I just killed… I just killed someone.” I nearly choke on the words. “Someone who might have known something about my father, unless you put those words in his mouth.”

“Yeah, but I can fix it,” he says simply, avoid the questioning about my father again. “All you need to do is ask me to.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not.”

He’s indecipherable, untrustworthy. He’s death in its evilest form, yet I find myself saying, “Then do it.” I hate to go to a place where I might owe him, but at the same time, I don’t want to be responsible for a murder, especially when he said something about my father. “If you can, then prove it to me. Bring him back.”

He shakes his head, tucking strands of my hair behind my ear. “Not without a price, princess. You should know that already.”

I narrow my eyes. “No way. I refuse to make bargains with you.”

He shrugs again, then straightens his legs and rises to his feet. “Well, then I guess I’ll just take his soul and get going.”

He starts to wind around me, however I jump to my feet, sidestepping him and barricading his path with my hands out to the sides of me. Our bodies are flush against one another, our heat mixing and stifling even though cold air circulates around me

“You can’t,” I say, my voice unsteady. “I won’t let you take his soul.”

He cups my chin with a wicked glint in his eyes. “You know as well as I do that you have no control over this situation.” Then he lets me go and nudges me out of the way, heading for the guy on the ground. He starts to bend down towards him.

“Wait. “ I race after him, and without even thinking, I throw myself on his back, wrapping my arms and legs around him. “I’ll do it, just don’t take his soul. Let him live… please, Cameron.”

He glances over his shoulder at me. “You want me to bring him back?” he asks, his eyes darkening with desire.

I unenthusiastically nod. “Yes, please… I never meant to kill him and I don’t… I don’t want to be responsible for that.” I slide off his back and plant my feet back onto the ground, releasing a breath as Cameron turns to face me.

“And who says I have the ability to do that?” he questions. His voice comes off a little shaky and high-pitched, like he’s gotten really nervous, which is strange. The Cameron I know is cocky and arrogant all the damn time. I must have struck a nerve or something. “Who says that I can raise the dead?” His forced laughter rings around us.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Cameron.” I poke him in his solid chest with my finger, pretending to be more confident than I really am. “I know you can—you just said you could.”

“No, I said I could fix this,” he states condescendingly, attempting to mess with my head. He deliberates something for a moment and then his mouth curves upward into a sly grin. “What if I said I could do it?” He strolls around me at nearly an inhumane speed, swishing his cape, ending up behind me and leaning right over my shoulder. “What would you give me to use this gift?” His voice touches my ear, causing me to shudder.

“What do you want?” I already have a speculation of what he wants from me and that thought only grows when his finger drifts up my spine.

“I think you already know,” he whispers, nuzzling his cheek against mine as he grinds his hips against my backside.

My muscles ravel and I feel like fleeing, but I force myself to stand motionless. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“More specific than this.” His fingers roam from my back to my hips then his palms flatten and glide up my sides and along the curves of my breasts. I cringe, vomit burning at the back of my throat as a shiver coils through my body. I don’t know what I want. I’m conflicted. Lost. Probably because he’s fucking with my head and not letting me feel my true emotions.

I open my mouth to tell him to stop, but then he gropes my breast, his fingers drifting underneath the top of the corset and to my nipples. “Say yes; you’ll give me whatever I want,” he whispers in my ear, his voice somewhere between a demand and a pleading groan. His hips writhe forward again, his hardness pressing against my ass. “Say yes, and I’ll bring him back to life. You won’t have to have his blood on your hands.”

I want to scream no! That he is probably the one who brought me here to begin with and that he probably made me do this only so I would owe him. That nothing is worth something that involves me owing him, yet as I stare down at the guy’s lifeless body, thinking about his family and friends and how much it’ll hurt when they find out he’s gone, I know that I’ll do anything to spare them the pain I know all too well.

“Fine,” I choke. “Bring him back to life and I’ll give you what you want.”

He lets out a growl and then rubs his hips one more time against me before his fingers leave my corset. “I’m slightly disappointed you gave in so easily.” He backs away from me and hunches over the body. “I thought you’d be a little more difficult to break down.” He glances at me as I press my hand to my aching chest, realizing what I’ve done.

It feels like I’ve handed my soul over to him on a silver platter. My thoughts drift back to the poem I wrote on my wall this morning as I try to figure out my true feelings about this situation.

Light and darkness

Death and life

Wrong and right

Need and want

So far apart.

Yet so closely connected.

I blink my focus back to Cameron, sinking to my knees on the asphalt as he lifts up his cape, shielding my view from whatever he’s doing. I hear the sound of wind, although I can’t feel it. I can hear my heart beating, but again, I can’t feel it. Then I feel and hear nothing except silence.

Moments later, Cameron lowers his cape back down and steps back as the guy pushes to his feet, bloody, with his shirt torn, but the slash in his chest is mended and he’s breathing. As he turns around towards me, the guy looks straight through me. It makes me wonder if he’s under some sort of Reaper possession.

“What were you going to say about my father?” I ask, stepping towards him. “Right before I…” I trail off as he starts to turn towards the alleyway, ready to leave. But I lunge forward and snag the sleeve of his shirt. “You said you know where he is.”

The guy shakes his head without looking at me. “I know nothing.”

I clutch onto his shirt. “Yes, you do. Please, just tell me.”

He shakes his head again, so I jerk on his arm, acting more violent than I normally do. “Just tell me,” I growl, enraged.

Arms abruptly slip around my waist and draw me back. My fingers slip from the guy’s sleeve and I let out a growl, fighting against Cameron—kicking, screaming, shouting—solely focused on the fact that he’s keeping me away from someone who may know something about my father.

“Let me go, Cameron!” I cry, writhing my body.

He doesn’t say a word as he holds me back, acting as though my kicking and screaming is nothing to him. Then, without saying anything, the guy rounds the corner of the building and disappears into the night, taking the information about my father with him.

Cameron’s grip on me loosens, and I instantly spin around to shove him back. “What did you do to him?” I ask. “He acted like he didn’t even know what I was talking about… but I heard him say it before he died; he knew something about my dad.” I turn to chase the guy down. “And I’m going to find out what.”

Cameron captures my arm, stopping me again. “Ember, relax. He doesn’t know anything about your father. I just put that in his head and made him say it.”

My heart withers as I slowly turn to face him. “Why would you do that? Just to mess with my head?”

His expression is stoic as he continues to hold onto my arm. “Who said I was messing with you? Maybe I know something about your father.”

I want to shove him back and run; to get away from him because he has to be lying. Deep down, though—in the bottom of my soul—I wish that he wasn’t and that’s why I stay. “Do you know something?”

He crosses his arms. “I’m not going to tell you until you pay me back for bringing back that guy.”

I shake my head. “I know I should be saying thank you, but for some reason I have a feeling I’m going to be thanking you without words.” I force myself to look up at him and immediately wish I didn’t because the hunger in his eyes both terrifies me and excites me.

A smile creeps up on his face as he extends his hand to me. Begrudgingly, I slip my fingers through his. Then he jerks me against his body, our chests colliding.

“You can pretend you don’t want this,” he says, stroking a finger along my collarbone, “but we both know you do.”

I shake my head, unable to speak. “Just get it over with. Whatever you’re going to do to me. Then I’m going to ask you questions.”

“It’s not what I’m going to do to you, it’s what you’re going to do to me,” he says with a dark smile.

I swallow hard as my stomach lurches. “Fine, let me get it over with.”

He lets out a low chuckle as he draws a line with his fingertip across the base of my neck to the other side of my collarbone. “Close your eyes.”

Forcing air into my lungs, I obey, feeling the power he has over me. I hold my breath when I feel him shift and then his lips are hovering over mine. He takes my hands and places them on top of his chest where his heart is; that is, if he has a heart.

“Take it,” he whispers. “Take the life inside of me.”

My eyes snap open and I try to retreat, but he holds me securely in place. “What? No way.” I shake my head swiftly.

“You said that you’d do anything for me,” he says, his voice gravelly as he presses on my lower back, forcing me to stay close to him. “And this is what I want you to do.”

“No way. Besides, you’re already dead. You don’t even have life inside you.”

“If you really believe that, then why are you so afraid?”

“I…” I trail off, feeling a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I just walked into a trap. Was any of this real? The club? The guy I stabbed? None of it really happen, did it?

“Feel it,” Cameron commands, ignoring me as he lowers his forehead against mine. “Take my life from me, princess. I’m asking you to.”

“Why?” I manage to say, but it’s hard to speak because I feel the spark of life within him—breathing, beating, fully alive and awake—waiting for me to take it away, blow it out and make it mine. “Why do you want me to do this?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says softly, his voice brimming with elation. “What does matter is that you said you would and that deep down, in that place you won’t admit exists, you know you want to feel it… the taste of a life from another.”

“No…” I say, but it’s a lie because, now that he’s said it, I want to taste it. I feel myself falling towards him, like my body is sinking into his, but I’m not the one moving. He is. Sinking into me, his life spilling into my veins, like smoldering flames that simmer out as soon as they touch me…

“No…” I try to pull away, but it’s too late. His life engulfs me, hot and blazing, burning and breathing.

Moments later, the fire starts to fizzle and becomes heavy and thick, like tar running through my veins. I can taste the foulness of it, but at the same time—within the distorted place I don’t want to admit exists, the one created by the Reaper blood inside me—I want it.

I want more.

When I push my hands forward, crushing them against Cameron’s chest, he lets out a painful yet blissful moan as his head slants back and more life and sparks burst into me until his life is consuming every inch of my body. Heavy and weightless at the same time—and somewhere between it all—I get lost. I float away into the darkness. And in the midst of it, I swear I feel feathers touching me, but before I can figure out why, I collapse to the ground and drift off… somewhere…

You’ll understand soon. What I want.

I try to make sense of the voice, but moments later, drift off into the blackness with feathers surrounding me. Then for the briefest moment, it feels like they’re falling off me.

But I know that can’t be right.

Chapter 3

I wake up screaming with my lungs heaving, terrified of what I’ve just done. Murder. Death. Reapers. Evil. All of it connects with me and I half expect to burst into flames as I bolt upright. Yet, as my heart settles—as I realize where I am—I start to relax. I’m not in the alleyway, but in my bed, surrounded by black and red walls that are sketched with mythical drawings and depressing poetry. A thin, black curtain hangs across the closet doorway that’s decorated with photos of dead poets and authors along with a poem Cameron wrote a few weeks ago.

“It was just a dream.” I press my hand to my chest, relief washing over me as I realize the full extent of what this means. That I didn’t kill someone and take some of Cameron’s life, that Cameron didn’t tell me he knows something about my father. It was just a dream and I’m back to square one where I have nothing more than emptiness to accumulate my life.

I tell myself to calm down as I keep my eyes on the door, wondering if my brother, Ian, heard me scream when I woke up. Even if he did—even if he is here—I doubt he’ll check in on me. That’s how things have been ever since I found Ian passed out in his bed with that photo of Alyssa, his deceased girlfriend, with the words, Death made me do it, Alyssa, and I’m sorry. But now I have to move on to the next angel written on it. I asked him about it the next day and he denied the photo ever existed along with the painting in the attic of Raven lying in the snow, wearing a cloak and holding an hourglass. Somehow, it disappeared and there’s no evidence that any of these things existed. For all I know, everything I’ve seen is nothing more than an illusion created by the Reapers.

Then there’s my best friend, Raven, who I wouldn’t put it passed to be part of the murders also, at least her possessed, alter ego side. She’s actually been ignoring me, which I both like and hate because she’s evil at the moment, yet I miss my friend. We pass by each other in the college hallways like ghosts, neither acknowledging that we see each other. It makes me want to find that damn book that was stolen so I can translate what it said on those pages about freeing pure souls.

I lie quietly in my bed for a while, the stillness absorbing into my skin as the loneliness weighs me down. The sun is sparkling through my window, the sky a clear blue and there’s a bird chirping from the branches. Thankfully, it’s not a raven; otherwise, I’d think it was Cameron.

I decide what to do next for the day because if I don’t find something to keep me distracted, the hours are going to drag. I could write maybe, but I’m worried what might come out of me; my darkest desires I don’t want to admit, how I briefly loved the taste of Cameron’s life, the darkness living inside him. Even though it was just a dream, it frightens me.

Sighing, I reach for one of my textbooks on the nightstand beside my bed, choosing to catch up on schoolwork since it’s the one thing I have left in my life that’s not centered by death, angels and Reapers. But as my fingers grasp the edge of the book, I catch sight of my arm and jerk my hand back.

Lines vine up and down my skin and wind around my wrist in black ink, like a tattoo. My thoughts flash back to my dream and I can taste the feeling of Cameron’s life again, burning at the tip of my tongue.

“No, it was a dream,” I whisper in horror as I grip my forearm, rotating my arm around to examine it. “It didn’t really happen… it couldn’t have.”

I don’t think you really believe that; do you, princess? The voice in my head appears again. This time its way clearer and louder. It’s now to the point where I recognize it perfectly.

“Shit.” I frown. “This can’t be happening… it had to be a dream… there’s no way you can really be inside my head.”

Nope, it’s really happening. I’m in your thoughts now, even more so than last night when I compelled you to go to that club, so I could trick you into drinking my life, he says with amusement in his tone. Besides, deep down, you wanted to give in to me. Just like when you took my life… I bet you loved it.

I don’t react because it will give him a sense of satisfaction that I don’t want him to have. “It could still be a dream,” I say in denial. “Maybe that’s all it is. Maybe I’m really still asleep, maybe you and I and my room and this conversation aren’t really happening. Or maybe the Anamotti are making me think this is happening.”

You know it’s real, he says. You know you went there last night just like you know the black lines on your arms are from you devouring my life, tasting it and loving it.

I wince at the partial truth of his accusation. “Leave me alone, Cameron. I don’t want you here. And you can’t stay here if I don’t want you to.”

Things don’t work like that anymore, he says. Especially after you took some of my life.

Shit. I knew there was a stipulation; a reason why he wanted me to do that.

Aggravated, I throw the blankets off my body and climb out of bed, trudging towards the dresser.

Nice pajamas, he jokes.

As I glance down at my black shorts and thin purple tank top, he laughs at me and
I shake my head and yank a dresser drawer open.

“About what you said last night; do you really know something about my father or was that just one of your games?”

I can’t tell you that yet.

I rummage through the drawer for a clean shirt and a pair of jeans. “Please, Cameron, this is important to me.” I hate the fact that it seems like I’m begging.

There’s a long pause and I hold my breath, waiting for his answer, thinking for a moment that he might actually give one to me.

But then he says, I might tell you in time, but not right now. In fact, you’re not ready right now. Plus, I have to get what I want first; you have to give in before I give up my secrets.

Fury ignites inside me as I snatch up a shirt, jeans, and a pair of fingerless gloves to hide the lines on my arms before slamming the drawer shut, then I start for the closet. As I stomp towards it, I catch sight of the poem Cameron wrote on the wall weeks ago. It reminds me what his mission is in all of this.

In separate fields of black feathers, the birds fly.

Four wings, two hearts, but only one soul.

They connect in the middle, though are separated by a thin line of ash.

It’s what brings them together, yet rips their feathers apart.

They can never truly be together as light and dark.

Unless one makes the ultimate sacrifice.

Blows out their candle, and joins the other in the dark.

It’s the poem that I read on Cameron’s wall, but three extra lines have been added.

Or if the one dares to fly across the line and steal the other’s light

To force them to cross over the line and join the darkness of life.

I’m not gone, princess. I will come back for you until you give in.

—Cameron

“You know, I’m never going to give in to you,” I tell him, drawing the closet curtain back as I duck inside. “I’m going to figure this out, so you might as well just leave my mind alone.”

You really think you will? He questions. Because I think you’re more lost now than you were a few days ago. I think with each day you grow weaker, more desperate. Lonelier. More willing to stand here and listen to me talk to you inside your head because I’m the only one you have to talk to anymore.

He’s painfully right. I’ve been feeling lost and lonely a lot lately. I want—need—some sort of connection again, like I had with Asher. I want to be touched and touch someone else without death screaming in my thoughts, haunting me and letting me see things I don’t want to see. With each passing day, I can feel myself slipping into the darkness, into the insanity, and ultimately, into the Reapers’ world.

I miss Asher.

No, you don’t, Cameron snaps harshly. You just think you do.

“No, I really do.”
I ball up the black sheer shirt and jeans I took out of my dresser and grab a red undershirt hanging up inside my closet. “And just so you know,” I say, descending further into the closet, knowing it’s pointless to try and hide out, since Cameron seems to be everywhere, but still it’s dark towards the back and hopefully he can’t see me when I undress. “I hated the taste of it.”

His laughter fills my head again, a low chuckle that causes goosebumps to sprout all over my skin. The taste of what, princess?

“Your life.”

If that’s what you need to tell yourself, he says. Then I’ll let you, but deep down, we both know you’re lying.

I stop talking, quickly changing my clothes as I attempt not to think about the fact that he could be watching me undress, although I’m not sure how exactly it works; if he can see what I’m seeing or if he’s a ghost, watching me.

After I get dressed, I slip on a pair of black boots, pull my hair up, and leave the quietness of my room to go check my emails. There’s nothing other than junk in there so I heavy-heartedly go into the kitchen and eat some breakfast.

I’m relieved that I haven’t heard a word from Cameron since I stepped into the closet, but at the same time, I’m slightly disappointed because I want answers. Not just about my father, but how he’s managed to enter my head.

I attempt to talk to him a few times, but he stays silent, so I pour myself a bowl of cereal, trying to ignore how my skin is starting to burn beneath my gloves, knowing it’s coming from the lines, reminding me of what I did the other night with Cameron. It’s early afternoon and the house is quiet and untouched from last night. Ian never came home and I have no idea where he is, or who he’s with. It’s torture, but all I can do is keep calling him and leaving voicemails.

I’m running a little late this morning and should be getting ready to go to class, but I’m considering skipping today, mainly because I don’t feel like seeing Raven. Plus, I’ve got these nasty lines on my arms and the last thing I need is for the town to think there’s something wrong with me; other than the fact that they think I’m a murderer, of course.

I finish off my cereal, reading the headlines of the local newspaper. My attention zeros in on article in particular, a headshot of Mackenzie; blonde hair, blue eyes and a smile on her face. Beside her is a picture of her mother and father holding onto each other, and above it the headline reads: New Mayor elected. Edmund Barker, winning despite his daughter’s disappearance.

I shake my head. Great. Mackenzie’s father is the mayor now, a man who’s responsible for the death of his daughter.

Hollows Grove has actually always had a high death count, but there have been a lot of deaths over the last two weeks, including three girls around my age. And I’m guessing it’s either the Anamotti’s doing it or unfortunately the new mayor.

The reporters have been saying we have a serial killer on our hands and I’m pretty sure I know who the police think it is since they’re continuously parked out in front of my house, watching me day in and day out. The whole town has been acting even more terrified of me and a lot of my neighbors scurry into their houses whenever I’m around.

God, I’m so alone.

As the painful truth starts to get to me, I get up, rinse out my bowl, and then place it in the sink. I put the cereal box away then turn around and lean against the counter.  As I’m standing there, trying to figure out where to go next, I get the strangest feeling that someone is watching me, like that night the book was stolen. I glance around the empty kitchen, that’s filled with dishes that need to be washed, empty boxes of food, and overdue bills, normal stuff. I go to the doorway and peek into the living room then make a round through the foyer, but there’s no one but me in the house.

Sighing at my craziness, I return to the kitchen and start to clean up. “You say that you’ll only tell me about my father when you get what you want from me,” I try to speak to Cameron again as I scrub down the countertops with a dish rag. “But what exactly do you want from me?”

I wait for him to answer, but he never does and the silence only adds emptiness to the house. Deciding I need to hear an actual living person’s voice, I cross the kitchen and collect my cellphone from the table. Then I go over to the note beside the sink and get the phone number to the clinic my mom’s at. I dial the number and the secretary answers after three rings.

“Hi, can I speak to Rose Lawson,” I ask, sitting down at the table.

“And who may I ask is calling?” she responds in an automated tone.

“Ember Edwards,” I tell her and then, since we don’t have the same last name, I add, “her daughter.”

She pauses and I hear keyboard keys clicking. “Just one moment, please.”

There’s a ringing in the background, overlapped by the sound of voices, as I silently wait. Moments later, the secretary says, “I’m sorry, but Rose Lawson checked out last Friday.”

“That’s impossible.” I press my fingertips to my nose, feeling a headache emerging. “That was over five days ago and she hasn’t come home yet. Can you please check again?”

She tells me she will, but I can tell she’s just tolerating me. When she gets back on the line, she tells me the same thing and I hang up without saying good-bye. I have no idea what else to do besides call Ian. But his phone sends me straight to voicemail and I hang up, feeling helpless, clutching my phone in my hand as I lower my head.

I breathe in and out, telling myself that it’s okay. That my mom probably just decided she wasn’t going to come home because she doesn’t want to be around me, which is highly possible and it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Still, I can’t help wondering if she left of her own freewill, or did something happen to her? I need to find that out, so I go up to the computer and search the internet for any suspicious headlines, like maybe an unidentified body of a woman. It’s sort of a messed up place to start, but since there’s been a lot of murders lately, I have to go there first. Thankfully, nothing turns up. I could call the police, but I doubt that’d go over well. She’s an adult. I’m crazy. End of discussion.

I start to head up to my room, when I hear the front door creak open. I pause, waiting for the sound of footsteps or a voice, but all I hear it the wind. Slowly, I go into the foyer again. The door is wide open and leaves are blowing in across the floor. There’s no one in there though. No one out on the porch. I stick my head outside and there doesn’t seem to be a single soul in sight.

“That’s weird,” I say, shutting the door, confused as I turn for the stairs.

That’s when I hear the swish.

Seconds later something flies over my head, getting so close it brushes against my hair. I duck, throwing my arms over my head as a dark mass circles around and does it again, this time going through me. A cold chill soars through my body, like it did the night the book was stolen, and I drop flat on my stomach on the hard floor. It feels like the wind is knocked out of me as I flip over, catching my breath, trying to scream, even though there’s a good chance no one will hear me.

But as my lips part the shadow swoops straight up and then plunges straight at me, a black mass ready to devour me. I open my mouth to scream again, but the air is sucked from my lungs. I hear a voice as it nears, one I swear I’ve heard before, but can’t place.

“You better watch what you do,” the shadow whispers, nearing me. “We’re everywhere.”

Then it disappears, right before it hits me.

I lie on the ground, stunned as I stare up at the ceiling stained with water spots. “What the hell was that?” I ask, breathing loudly

You’re being stalked. Cameron’s voice rises in my head again.

“By what?” I ask as I sit up, my body aching in protest.

By a Reaper, he says. I’m not sure who it is though.

I clutch onto the wall as I get to my feet. “Sure you aren’t.”

I’m not, Cameron snaps. I might be a Reaper, but I sure as hell don’t know all the Reapers or what they’re all doing. Your guess is as good as mine who that was and why they appeared so suddenly.

“It wasn’t suddenly,” I say. “They were here about a week ago too.”

And you didn’t tell me because…

“Because you’re you.” I get my balance and trudge toward the stairway.

Ha, ha, you’re hilarious. He pauses. So when the shadow was here last time, did it do anything to you?

I shake my head as I start up the stairs. “No, it just dove at me and then stole a book from me. Honestly, I sort of thought it was you.”

Well it wasn’t. And I really wish you’d mentioned this sooner.

I pause at the top of the stairway. “Why?”

Because it seems you have a Reaper stalker on your hands.

“Like you?” I ask sarcastically.

I’m not stalking you. I merely see something I want and refuse to give up until I have it.

“Which will be never,” I say, turning down the hallway. “So you might as well give up now.”

He doesn’t respond. I wait until I enter my room before I repeat what I said. I never get an answer and eventually the silence gets to me, along with the fear of being stalked and the fear of having a Reaper live inside my head. I decide to go to school because it’s better than sitting around in a quiet house again, waiting for my shadow stalker to return again. Then, on my way home I can check out the clinic and the streets for my mom. I gather my backpack from my room and then head out the door, hoping upon hope that this isn’t going to turn out like my dad.

Missing forever.

Chapter 4

I drive to school in my mom’s car, cranking up the music because it’s the only thing that will block out the dark thoughts in my head and the quiet around me. I thrum my fingers on top of the steering wheel to the beat as I drive up the highway, focusing on the road instead of the dead people walking up and down the streets. There are more of them today; I spot at least five. I have no clue if they’re people who died here or if the Anamotti are scrounging for puppets elsewhere.

There’s also a lot more living people out and about today. Usually, I only pass maybe six or seven, but I spot three crowds, plus ten individuals just on the main strip of town. The growing population only rises when I arrive at the campus and almost every parking spot is taken. Finally, I find one at the back, near the road, and maneuver my car into it.

I haven’t been a fan of school at all lately. Never have been, even before the entire town thought I was a killer. So when I get ready to climb out of my car and my gut churns, I think it’s caused by my usual loathing towards school. When I make it across the parking lot and to the campus yard, I realize something’s off. People are filing in and out of the school entrance in a perfect line, their attention straight ahead on the person in front of them. They all move together in sync, taking steps together. It’s not the entire population of the school, but it’s enough people that I notice it.

I swing the hand of my bag over my shoulder and hike across the grass underneath the shedding trees towards the entrance, pink and orange leaves covering the browning grass. My eyes are fixed on the people in line along with others wandering around who seem a little out of it, like they have no real direction. When I pass by one guy with long legs and broad shoulders, his gaze catches with mine and I swear to God his eyes briefly glow, but it’s just a flash and then he’s turning around to head off in the direction of the west entrance.

I grow nervous with each step, especially when I pass by a few dead people roaming around, watching me with faint smiles. I keep my attention straight on the door, ignoring the rest of the looks I can feel boring into me. I tell myself that it’s just my imagination, which feels like the biggest lie I’ve ever told myself. By the time I enter the school, I’m sweating and anxious.

Things only get worse when I pass the line forming from outside that weaves around through the columns of the quad and to the main office. Heads turn in my direction, one by one. Eyes lock on me, filled with hatred, like I’m some foul creature they want to get rid of.

Fuck. This is bad.

The only thing I have going for me is that no one has yet to make a move on me and there’s no way I’m sticking around to find out if they’re going to. I pick up my pace, heading towards where I entered, deciding that leaving is the best decision. However I slow down in the center of the quad when Professor Morgan approaches me. He’s in his mid-forties, with chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes. He’s wearing tan cargo pants and a red polo shirt smeared with charcoal, paint, and clay. He’s also Asher’s uncle, at least, if what Asher told me was the truth.

“Hey Ember,” he says with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “How’s it going today?”

I pretend it’s not weird at all that he’s approaching me. “Good, I guess.”

He smiles, but I can tell it’s forced. Then he discreetly glances around the campus, his attention lingering on the line before he returns his attention to me. “Look, could you meet me in my classroom for a moment? I’d like to discuss a project with you.”

Project? Um, what? I’m about to ask him what he’s talking about when he aims me with an urgent glance. “It’s a project Asher was supposed to turn into me, but I haven’t seen him in a while so I wanted to talk to you about it.”

I slowly catch on. The fact that the entire school seems to be under some sort of trance makes me wary to go anywhere with anyone, yet as I examine him over, attempting to see if his eyes are glowing like the others, he looks normal. As far as I can tell, he doesn’t have any visible wounds on him or other signs that he’s part of the undead

“Okay, yeah. Sure... but I need to hurry because I have class.” Because I need to get the hell out of here.

He nods and then turns for the hallway between two columns, motioning for me to follow him. For a moment it looks like a shadow is tailing him, but as soon as I blink it’s gone. So I keep walking, more attention draws to us as we weave through the crowd. I’m trying my hardest to keep from touching anyone, but a lot of them seem to be determined to touch me, slamming their shoulders against mine, stepping on my toes, their deaths smothering me. Blood fills the streets. They all lie dead. A cloud covers the town.

One foot in front of the other. Breathe. Eyes drift in my direction and some notably glow all around me. I have this gut-wrenching feeling that I’m being watched by something more than just their eyes.

I hold my breath the entire journey and only breathe freely again when we’re hidden in his classroom with the door shut behind us. He seems to feel the same way as well, since he lets out a loud exhale the moment the door clicks shut.

“Jesus, things are getting intense,” he says, turning around and leaning against the shut door.

I don’t respond, looking around the vacant room with art on the walls, bare easels and paint supplies everywhere. I can’t stop my mind from wandering to thoughts of Asher and the first time we kissed. In here. How he touched me. How his tongue felt… and his tongue ring… amazing… the way he made me feel was amazing.

“Are you okay?” Professor Morgan asks.

I stand near the tables and face him. “Yeah,” I reply with hesitancy. “Although I’d like to know why you wanted to talk to me in here because I’m guessing it’s not about a project.”

He stands up straight. “No, it’s not.” He takes a cautious step forward. “Tell me, how have you been doing through all this?”

I shift uneasily, noting that he’s positioned himself between me and the door. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

He points over his shoulder at the door. “The whole town going… well, a little berserk.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed things are a little…” I search for the correct word that would best describe the madness. “Strange.”

“Strange might be a bit of an understatement. It’s like they’ve been taken over by some sort of…” He trails off, shaking his head. “And there are the murders and the strange disappearances.”

I’m wary to say anything. We’ve barely exchanged more than twenty words and now suddenly he’s talking to me about the fact that the school looks like it’s been taken over by pod people.

He sighs when I don’t answer him right away. “Look, Ember, I know we haven’t really talked, but I’d like to help you the best that I can. I know you’re friends with Asher. And I know you’re important to him.”

I wonder if he knows I’m a Grim Angel. If he’s an Angel himself. I eye him over, deliberating if I can trust him or not, at least enough to ask. Then I come to the conclusion that it doesn’t really matter. If he’s after me, then he’s already got me trapped. If he’s not and just thinks I’m crazy, then he can be one more person I add to the list.

“Are you… are you…” God, please don’t think I’m crazy. “Are you an Angel of Death, too?”

He shakes his head, not startled. A good sign. “I wouldn’t be able to help you if I was, but I do know about them—Angels and Reapers. You.”

“Because Asher told you?”

He considers something very carefully. “More or less.”

There’s more to it than what he’s telling me. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that he’s probably not going to tell me because he either can’t or wants to keep his secrets. “You said you were going to help me,” I say. “But how exactly? And from what?”

His attention strays over my shoulder as he picks a chunk of clay off his shirt. “I’m going to help you the only way I know how, by giving you some advice.” He looks at me and when our eyes fasten, fear pulsates through me. I don’t know where it stems from, whether he’s scared and I’m sensing it, or if he’s simply scaring me. “Have you ever heard of something called a ambulate umbra?”

“No… why?”

He yanks his fingers through his hair, leaving it sticking up. Then someone bangs on the door and moments later a face appears in the small window at the top. Their eyes are bleeding, seeping out like rain and splattering across the glass. I glance back and forth between the dead person and the Professor, wondering if he can see it, but he continues on with the conversation, unbothered.

“The problem is, I have no idea where it is…” He keeps talking, his hand falling to the side, his brows dipping together. “Or who even has it.”

I hitch my finger under the handle of my bag, adjusting it higher on my shoulder as I watch him pace back and forth in front me. “What is it exactly?” My eyes widen as the door creaks open and the dead person enters the classroom, glancing around at the art on the wall with a perplexed look.

Again, Professor Morgan seems oblivious. His forehead creases and then scurries over to his desk. “How about I show you,” he says as he opens his desk drawer. He retrieves a pencil and paper from the drawer and starts sketching while the dead girl just stares at me. There is a mark on her neck like a rope burn, the tips of her hair stained with blood. As I look closer, I recognize her features as one of the girls I saw in the newspaper; one that was murdered a week ago, her body found near the forest.

“Help me,” she says in a haunting hollow voice as she stares at me with a distant expression. “Help us… free us from the pain. He’s got our souls trapped, Ember. And he plans on trapping a lot more and then destroying us all.”

I want to ask her what she’s talking about, but what about Professor Morgan? What would he say if I started talking aloud? If I told him I could see the dead?

Debating what to do, I start to open my mouth, deciding that looking insane might be worth the risk to find out what’s going on. But as soon as my lips part, she disappears, vanishing into thin air without so much as a sound.

“I’m much better at drawing what I mean than trying to explain it,” Professor Morgan continues to talk, while I stare at the spot where the girl vanished.

He’s got people’s souls trapped? Like someone is stealing souls and keeping them? Or is it something different? And who’s he?

As my thoughts keep racing, Professor Morgan glides the pencil effortlessly across the paper. He makes one last stroke then drops the pencil down on the desk before holding up the drawing. My jaw just about hits the floor, but I smash my lips together to conceal my shock. It’s a drawing that looks almost identical to my grandmother’s necklace; the one Cameron has and swears my Grandmother stole from him. The problem is, I have no idea what the color of it is, so I can’t be one-hundred percent certain.

A warning goes off inside me not to utter that I know where or what it is. “So it’s a necklace,” I state the obvious.

He nods and hands me the drawing. “It’s believed to have the blood of the original leader of the Grim Reapers, Altarius Vinceton. He created it to protect himself from his own kind, making it out of Chrysoprase and sealing it with the blood of himself, which was the more powerful of the two elements so it made the green in the Chrysoprase turn a dark red.”

Dark red. I stare at the drawing, the lines forming a near replica of the necklace I once owned. It has to be my grandmother’s necklace. “But why would this Altarius guy need to protect himself from the Reapers if he was the leader of them? Wouldn’t that make him the boss?”

“If only things were that easy,” he tells me. “If being the leader meant you never had to worry about anything, but unfortunately for Altarius, he knew the evil within himself and therefore understood the evil that lay in Reapers, all of them. No matter what they tell you.”

What a convenient little story he’s got going on here. The abrupt reappearance of Cameron’s voice startles me so badly that I jump.

Professor Morgan gives me a startled look. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I tuck a fallen strand of my hair behind my ear, giving myself a moment to get myself together before I speak again. “So, you think this ambulate umbra could protect me from the Reapers killing me? Or is it going to protect me from something else because I thought they couldn’t kill me.” Only drive me crazy. Or if the book I was reading is right, steal my soul.

Not all Reapers want to drive you crazy, Cameron says. I want your mind completely intact. In fact, I find you very fascinating… now stealing your soul on the other hand. Please tell me more about this because I’d love to try.

Like you already don’t know how.

Actually I don’t, he says. It’s supposed to not be possible, so I’m really curious as to what book you’ve been reading.

The one that was stole from me, I say. From my shadow stalker.

“They can’t kill you,” Professor Morgan says, interrupting Cameron’s and mine’s conversation. “But they can make you want to kill yourself.”

Shock soars through me and strikes me in the chest, knocking the breath out of me. “You mean, they can possess me and force me to… to die.”

He wavers with hesitancy, folding his arms. “Not necessarily force you, but get you to that place, enter your thoughts and mess with your mind enough that you want it to all end.”

That’s not what I’m doing, Cameron insists. I want you around, Ember.

Sure you do.

Ember, think about what’s going on here, he says. This guy pretty much just comes out of nowhere and willingly tells you all this stuff. Why would he all of a sudden do that?

I don’t know… because he’s Asher’s uncle. I get what he’s saying, though at the same time, it’s hard to be on the same page as Cameron.

Yeah, on his father’s side.

What the hell’s that supposed to mean?

“Ember, are you sure you’re okay?” Professor Morgan is staring at me like he’s starting to grow concerned with my state of mind. “You seem a little distracted.”

I tear myself away from my internal conversation with Cameron. “Sorry, I’m just feeling a little sick. That’s all.”

“Maybe you should go home and lie down.” He glances out the window at the campus yard and his face pales.

I track his gaze and find that everyone has stopped moving except for one person. As soon as I see the guy everyone’s looking at, my head starts to pound, my lips start to tingle and my back starts to burn. He moves with confidence through the sea of motionless people, taller than most with broad shoulders, a scraggy jawline and blonde hair that reaches his shoulders. He’s wearing a black suit and a red tie. Everyone seems to be drawn to him as he makes his way slowly across the campus yard with heads turning, eyes following his movements. And the dead girl that walked in the room is walking just behind him, watching him, then she glances up at me. Our eyes lock and there’s a silent plea inside them: help me.

“Who is that guy?” I ask as I scratch at the spot burning on my back, but as I say it, recognition clicks. “Wait, is that our new mayor?” Why is he here? Better yet, why is he here when the entire school is possessed? Is it a coincidence? And is the dead girl trying to say he’s the one she’s talking about? That the mayor has their souls trapped?

Hmmm… I bet you’re right, Cameron says. And I’m guessing he has something to do with all those murders.

As the Professor removes his gaze from the window, I detect a hint of fear in his eyes. “I think so… but I really think you should head home while all this is going on.”

“But what is going on?” I ask, aware that he’s extremely uneasy all of a sudden, more than before. “I mean, everyone in the town… they seem so—”

“Under the influence of the Anamotti,” he finishes for me. “They’ve somehow managed to take over minds in large quantities.

Just like Raven. Oh, my God, it’s spreading like a virus. “You know about the Anamotti?”

“I know of the Anamotti,” he corrects, sitting down on one of the nearby tables, his shoulders slumping inward. “But they’re sort of like a secret society and no one really knows anything about them.”

Dammit. “Well, why all of a sudden are they taking over everyone? I mean, they’ve pretty much got the entire campus walking around like robots.”

His expression plummets. “I have no idea right now, but I’m going to try to find out.” He gets to his feet, returns to his desk again, and starts sifting through a collection of old books.

Sure he doesn’t know anything. Cameron laughs inside my head. Why don’t you ask him how he knows all this when he’s not a Reaper or an Angel?

I want to tell Cameron to shut up, however he’s right. I do need to find out why, all of a sudden, he’s handing over all this information. “Professor Morgan—”

“Please, call me Elliot,” he tells me, wiggling a book out from the bottom stack.

“Okay, Elliot… How do you know about all of this?” I head towards his desk. “The Reapers. The Angels. The necklace?”

His face goes sheet white as he walks to me with the book in his hand. “Because…” He swallows hard. “Because I was once an Angel of Death.”

I stare at him, speechless. “You were once an Angel of Death?” I finally manage to find my voice. “What…? How…? Huh?”

“It’s a long story that doesn’t really matter.” He glances nervously at the door as a loud bang echoes in the hallway then he tucks the book under his arm. “Besides, I’d rather not talk about here.”

“But, I—”

He holds up his hand, cutting me off, still focused on the door. “Look, it’s not safe for you to be here… there are too many people possessed by the Anamotti and I have a feeling it’s going to get worse.” When he looks at me again, he lowers his voice, “But if you want to meet somewhere more private, I can tell you more of what I know.”

The bang in the hallway grows louder and he flinches, jumping. I realize how nervous he is and how nervous I probably should be, considering we’re standing in the center of a building that’s swarming with Anamotti.

“When and where?” I ask quickly.

He hastily backs up towards his desk and retrieves a pencil before returning to me and taking the drawing from my hand. “Here’s my number,” he says, scrawling it down while he holds onto the book. “Call me after my last class ends, which is at four.” He hands me the piece of paper. I fold it up and put it in my back pocket. “And Ember, please go straight home. I have a feeling things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.”

I eye the book he has tucked under his arm. I can’t tell what the title is, but it looks old. “Okay, I will.”

“Good,” he says and then he’s ushering me towards the door.

I trip over my own boots and grab ahold of the doorknob to stop myself from falling as he rushes me out. I’m about to ask him what’s going on when I feel the zipper of my bag being pulled on and then something heavy lands inside it. When I glance back at Elliot, he’s already turning away from me, the book no longer in his hands.

“It was nice talking to you, Ember,” he says very formally as he goes back to his desk and starts sifting through his papers.

I’m baffled by his abrupt, offish attitude, but I don’t say anything and open the door, stepping out into the hallway, the book feeling like lead in my bag. I wonder why he was so weird about giving it to me. Or what it even is. I’m wondering a lot of things about what just happened as I enter the quad. Then, all of those thoughts float from my mind.

I feel like Carrie at the prom as everyone turns to look at me. I half expect blood to splatter down from the ceiling and onto me. No blood ever shows up, but again, my head starts to pound, my lips get tingly, and my back feels like it’s on fire. I’m not sure what to do, so I start to turn back and head in the other direction when someone nudges me in the back. I throw a glance over my shoulder then stumble forward at the sight of a girl from my English class standing behind me with a hollow expression on her face and eyes glowing like nightlights. There is a line of people standing behind her, blocking the entrance to the hallway. I look back to see that people have started to line the walls of the circular quad, all of them just staring at me, and I catch the mayor of the town disappearing down the hall that the line of possessed people is leading to.

It’s like he’s leading them straight to him, but why? So he can kill them?

Don’t worry about that right now.

But what if he’s going to kill everyone here?

Even if he is—if he isn’t just a normal human and has that kind of power—you couldn’t stop him alone. So do yourself a favor and walk straight ahead, Cameron whispers in my thoughts. They won’t touch you, I promise.

Why should I listen to you? I ask. Trust you with anything?

Because you have no other option at the moment.

I know he’s right and I hate it. The only thing I can really do is try to walk out of here.

Taking a small step, I move forward, waiting for them to attack, however all they do is stand there and watch me. So I take another step and another, continuing to cross the length of the campus as the fire on my back gets hotter and hotter. Their eyes pretty much burn holes in me, but none of them make a move to touch me.

Finally, I reach the opposite end where there’s another hallway that will take me right outside to where my car is parked. However there are two very bulky guys—football players, I think—blocking my path. I hesitate.

Just nudge through them, Cameron says. They won’t do anything to you.

Shaking my head and summoning a deep inhale, I do what he says and start to move between them, holding my breath as I squeeze by. My shoulders brush against them and it feels like my entire being blazes up in flames. Blackness. Pain. Good-bye. Please don’t leave me. I can’t. Everything hurts. Capes and feathers showering from the sky. All over the town. Blood filling the streets that are filled with bodies. So many bodies. So many deaths. Thousands. I can feel them pouring through me like a river of needles and the mayor is standing in the midst of it all with blood on his hands.

Jerking myself from the painful images of death, I race by and duck down the hall, running down the hall.

“Jesus, what the hell was that?” I whisper, pressing my hand to my chest, catching my breath as I burst out the door and onto the campus yard. As the cool air hits me, the heat starts to subside, calming down the further away from the school I get. I take long strides, hurrying for my car while looking at my feet as gazes bore into me.

“Cameron, why did I see that…? All those deaths? Was it because that guy was possessed by the Anamotti?”

It takes Cameron a moment to answer. I’m not even sure why I’m asking him, other than I have no one to ask. No, it wasn’t because he was Anamotti. He pauses as I unlock my car and climb into. It looks like you had your first death omen.

“I’ve already been having death omens,” I point out as I start the engine. “For a very long time.”

No, you’ve been able to see death, he states. Death omens are a whole different ballgame. They apply to a large group of people. Simultaneous deaths that happen all at once from the same force can only be felt through the touch of a Reaper.

“But I never feel them when I touch you.”

That’s because I care enough about you not to let you feel them.

I’m not sure how to respond to his twisted act of kindness, so I avoid reacting at all. “So you’re saying the entire town’s going to die?” I ask, gripping onto the steering wheel, my palms coating in sweat. “And that the mayors going to do it?

I don’t know anything except that you saw a death omen. Sorry, princess, but I can’t give you all the answers, especially when I don’t know them all. However, I will say that I think you need to steer clear of the mayor.

“I already knew that.” I put the shifter in reverse, ready to get as far away from here as I can; ready to forget, wishing I could forget. But I can’t. It hurts from head to toe; throbbing, burning, intoxicating. “There has to be a way to stop it,” I whisper. “All those deaths on top of all the other death’s that have happened.”

He laughs. How many times have I told you, Ember? You can’t stop death. Death is endless.

“Yeah, death is endless,” I say, steering the car towards the road. “But it doesn’t mean I can’t try to stop it.” I pause, considering if I should ask him my next question, wondering if it might be a mistake by trusting him so much, but what other option do I have. “Cameron, have you ever heard of a Reaper stealing a Grim Angel’s soul?”

That’s not possible, he says. I would have done it to you if it was.

“Yeah, but…”

But what? He presses.

“But what if it is? What if you just don’t know about it?”

He contemplates what I said. What do you know about it?

“Nothing,” I say. “Other than that if it can be done, then it could possibly free innocent souls being possessed, like this entire town.”

Maybe… I mean, I don’t know everything about Reapers, he says, which I find a little strange since he is a Reaper. What I’d really like to know is where you learned about this.

Not wanting him to know about the book, fearing he’ll track it down and figure out how to steal my soul, I opt to keep my mouth shut and he astonishingly doesn’t press. I drive down the road and up Main Street towards where the clinic is, at the end of the city. There are people on the streets, coming in and out of stores. Most of them are acting normal, which means the Anamotti haven’t gotten to the entire town just yet. Still, how have they even managed to take over so many people? I mean, when they captured me that night there was only a handful. However they’ve at least got a hundred people under their possession now.

“Cameron, how are they doing it?” I ask. “Taking over so many people? Are there more Anamotti in Hollows Grove than I know about? Or is it something bigger than the Anamotti?” I ask, thinking about the mayor, wondering what he is—if he’s just a powerful human or so much more.

I wait for Cameron to respond, but I never get an answer. I try a few more times with a few different questions, however his silence remains. I should be grateful, getting a break from the Reaper living inside my head except the silence of the car is heavier than anything. I twistedly find myself wishing he’d come back.

Chapter 5

The receptionist at the clinic tells me the same thing as she did on the phone; that my mom left a few days ago and didn’t tell anyone where she was going. Thankfully, all of them seem like they’re in control of their minds, but it still doesn’t help me figure out where my mom is.

As I head home, I drive down a couple back roads and search the areas where I’ve found my mom in the past.

There was a two-month period where she was addicted to meth and spent a lot of time out on the streets, sleeping behind dumpsters and doing God knows what to earn money. I was fourteen when this was going on and pretty much had to take care of Ian and myself, living off money I scrounged up wherever I could. We almost got evicted, but my mom came wandering back, got cleaned up and got a job again, deciding to briefly be responsible. It was always sort of her thing. Off and on she’d take care of us. It sucked—still does—knowing that your mom doesn’t care enough about you to be around and help take care of you, or take care of herself.

The messed up part is that I’m not sure whether or not I’d rather her be out on the streets somewhere, doing drugs, or if I’d prefer something has actually happened to her.

Eventually, I make it home to the quiet and go up to my room to take a nap, but I’m restless and end up simply staring at the ceiling, wide awake. Minutes tick by. Hours. I call Ian, wanting to hear someone’s voice. He doesn’t answer. I check the clock to see if it’s four yet and time to call Elliot. I have two more hours, so I take out the book he put into my bag and my jaw nearly drops to the floor. It looks just like the book that was stolen from me. Sucking in a sharp breath, I open it up, but the wind is instantly knocked out of me.

“What the hell?” I mumble as I fan through the blank pages. I look back at the cover, wondering if I was wrong about it being the same book, but the title is still the same and August Millard is listed at the author.

I immediately take the piece of paper out of my pocket and call Professor Morgan, but it sends me straight to voicemail. There’s got to be an explanation for this. He’ll explain it, right? He’ll know what the words on the pages meant, right? I’m not so sure.

I’m not so sure about anything anymore.

I shut the book, set it aside, then flop down on the bed. None of this makes sense. I need some sort of answers. What I need is someone to talk to.
“Cameron, can you hear me?” I ask and then wince at my desperation.

I try again and again without any response. After the fifth attempt, I finally turn up some music, a little Breaking Benjamin, hoping that will help with the quiet, yet there’s still emptiness around me and inside me. “God, I can’t take it anymore.” The soundlessness. The seclusion. Everyone I have no longer talks to me, and I can’t talk to them because I’m not sure if they’re still themselves. I wish it’d be over. God, just get it over with. I can’t take it anymore. “Please, just make it…” I trail off, realizing where I’m heading and how I can’t go there, especially after what Cameron told me. I can’t give up. Give in. “Is that what’s going on?” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Is all this loneliness part of the torture, the Reapers’ new way to get to me? Leave me alone to let me rot in my own lonely existence.”

Now, how would I know what they’re up to? He answers and then unexpectedly the music turns down. “I’ve already told you that I don’t want them to have you and therefore I have nothing to do with them…. I want you for myself.”

My eyes shoot open at the sound of his voice around me instead of in my head. He’s standing near the doorway of my room, dressed in normal clothes; a loose pair of name brand jeans, a fitted grey shirt, and his blonde hair lightly tousled.

“So you finally decided to show yourself.” I sit up on the bed. “Instead of just cowering inside my head.”

He laughs wickedly as he skims over the contents of my room with intrigue. “I wasn’t cowering, princess. You just made it clear that you’re in dire need of some company and I thought I’d step up and help out, since I care for you.”

I smooth my long, black hair into place as I lower my feet over the edge of the bed. “Like hell you do. And besides, I don’t want your help.” Lie. Lie. Lie.

“You say that now,” he says, entering my room. He picks up a feather from my dresser and I have the most overwhelming urge to snatch it from his hand, especially since Asher had held it once when he was in my room. “But eventually you’ll want me.” He touches the feather with the tip of his finger, smiling at himself since it’s a raven’s feather and he can shift into a raven. Then he sets it back down on the dresser. “Especially for what’s in store for you in the very near future.” He says it with implication.

“What do you mean?” I stand up from my bed. “Are you talking about the omen I saw?”

He nods his gaze boring into me, his eyes filling with lust, which makes my skin feel like it’s crawling and spontaneously combusting at the same time. “I’ve been hearing stuff and I think something’s going down in the Angel/Reaper battle,” he finally says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Something that requires a lot of sacrifice of innocent people so that someone can get a lot of power, which I’m guessing might be linked to the death omen you saw… all those deaths are a great source of power.”

“And do you think the mayor has something to do with this?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Maybe, but if that’s true than I’m guessing he’s probably not really the mayor, but a Reaper, working for a much powerful Reaper—our leader probably.”

“You think the leader of the Reapers has something to do with this?”  I blow out a frustrated breath. “The murders? The number of people being possessed in the town multiplying overnight?”

“I’m not sure if the possession has anything to do with the increasing possession,” he explains. “I still think that’s the Anamotti trying to take down the last Grim Angel standing. I think things are getting close and their upping the forces.”

As my muscles wind in knots, I work to keep a steady voice. “Have things… is there only one Grim Angel left now?”

His brow crooks. “Well, that’d make it you, wouldn’t it?”

I nearly fall down and have to grip onto the bedpost for support. “Please tell me that’s not true.”

He rolls his eyes, like I just overreacted. “No, we haven’t gotten to that point yet. There’s still some left… although the numbers are small. And besides, you’d know when you were the last one standing because your inner Reaper and Angel would reveal.” He sighs and leans against my dresser. “But I think that’s the least of our problems now, because if the lovely mayor is working for the Reapers, then it could quite possibly mean that my leader could be here, which is very bad for you and for me too, considering my family’s rebellion to cooperate with the rules and order of the Reapers.”

“Why am I not surprised by that last fact?” I say then frown, thinking about the story Elliot told me. “When you say leader of the Reapers, do you mean the one that used to own that necklace you stole from me?”

“The one and only Altarius Vinceton.” His lips curve to a sinister grin. “And I never stole the necklace from you; your grandmother stole it from me.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “So you say.”

His grin darkens. “So I know.” We carry each other’s gazes, refusing to look away, and finally his facial expression softens. “Look, I want to help you, Ember, no matter what you think.”

I laugh sharply. “Oh, I doubt that.”

His feet shuffle across the carpet as he strides towards me. “Why so doubtful? Have I ever done anything to harm you?”

“You made me kill a person,” I remind him, noting that I have nowhere to go as he closes in on me.

“Which I brought back to life.” He takes another stride. The closer he gets, the more the lines on my arms beneath my gloves burn.

I back away, bumping into the bed and then fall down on the mattress on my ass. I continue to scoot back on the bed to get back the distance he’s stealing as he moves across my room.

“Well, if you want to help me, then give me the necklace. So it can protect me.”

“I can’t,” he says matter-of-factly as the front of his legs graze against the side of the bed. “My family needs it for their own protection. We’re not the most loved Grim Reapers in the clan, especially when we stole the necklace to begin with.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I say sarcastically as my back brushes the wall.

He gets aggravated as he leans over the bed and hovers over me. “You know, I don’t know why you are so eager to believe that the necklace will protect you,” he says. “You know nothing about Elliot, other than he’s Asher’s uncle. It makes you really naïve to simply believe him because of that.”

I ignore the fact that his closeness accelerates my heart rate, telling myself that it’s just like at the lake and the cemetery, that he’s controlling it—me. However I’m not sure if it’s entirely true. “It doesn’t make me naïve. If I had a reason not to trust him, then I wouldn’t, but he hasn’t given me a reason yet.”

“But you don’t trust me,” he says, like I don’t have a reason not to.

I struggle not to laugh, knowing it won’t make the situation any better. “You have to earn trust, Cameron.”

“Asher didn’t earn your trust,” he states, leaning closer to me, his shadow covering my body. “He lied to you just as much as I did.”

“Yeah, but Asher’s good.”

“How do you know?” A hand comes down on each side of my head, so he’s pretty much lying on top of me, yet he remains standing. “Maybe you shouldn’t go around believing things until they’re proven.”

He’s right. Not about Asher, but about getting facts before deciding on what to believe “Tell me what the leader looks like,” I demand, pressing my back against the mattress, desperate to get space between us. “And why he’s here. That’s how you can establish my trust, if you want it.”

“I don’t know those answers.” He looks as lost as me. “However, what I do know is that it’s really bad that he’s here.” He licks his lips, eyeing mine. I can read all over his face that he wants me.

“I know it’s bad.” I place my hands on his chest to hold him back, repulsed by my body’s disappointment of my shoving him back. “But how bad exactly? I mean, people are already possessed and there’s a murder or disappearance at least once a week. How much worse could things get?”

“Much, much worse.” He reaches for my face and I flinch as he strokes my cheek with his finger. “More and more deaths will happen.” His fingers drift down my cheek, my jaw, my neckline, stopping just above where my breasts curve out of my top. “Reapers love their death. It’s like a drug for us.”  He breathes my scent. “We crave it. Breathe it. And our leader is connected to all our power; our feelings. So imagine how much death he craves—needs.”

I shudder against his touch, momentarily falling into it, hating that sometimes it feels so easy to give in to him and so hard to push him away, but I still manage to get some room, pushing him away as far as he’ll allow me.

“You can’t touch me, Cameron. I-I don’t want you to.”

He traces a line from my cleavage to my neck, his fingers resting over my pulse. “Why not? You let Asher touch you like this.” His other hand finds my waist, gripping firmly, fingers delving into the fabric, causing me to shiver in response. “And you don’t fight it… you want it.”

“Asher’s an Angel,” I say, loathing that my voice cracks. “And he didn’t just tell me that he’s addicted to stealing souls.”

“So what if he’s an Angel?” His eyes flare, the tips of his fingers pressing into my skin. “And I’m a Reaper. Both of us symbolize death. Both of us collect souls. There’s a very thin line between what we are.”

“Not really.” I wince from his violent touch. “And besides, I know Asher enough to know that he cares about me and wouldn’t do anything that would hurt me.”

When he speaks his voice is low and conveys rage, his breath hot on my cheeks. “Maybe you should get your facts straight before you go yammering your mouth off,” he says. I open my mouth to speak, but he covers my lips with his hands. “Tell me this, princess. Did Asher, by chance, ever mention who his father is?”

I reluctantly shake my head. “No, but what does that matter?” I ask, my lips moving against the palm of his hand.

He lowers his hand from my mouth. “It matters when his father’s part of the Anamotti.”

“That’s impossible… It’d mean he’d have to have Reaper blood. And he can’t have Reaper blood because then it’d mean Asher would have Reaper blood in him, and I know that’s not true,” I say, my voice sounding a little off pitch. I can’t help having some doubt. I know hardly anything about Asher’s father, and from the few conversations we had about him, I got the impression that Asher’s father wasn’t that great. Still, it doesn’t mean he’s a Reaper.

I push Cameron off me and kneel up on the bed. “Quit messing with my head. If Asher’s father was a Reaper then he would have told me. And you would have told me a long time ago.”

“Why would I have told you sooner?” Cameron asks, pressing his hand to his chest where I shoved him as if my touch burned. “I barely tell you anything that’s true.”

“Exactly.”

“Believe what you want, princess. But before you go deciding things, get your facts straight.”

“And how am I supposed to do that when my entire life is a fucking mind game at the moment.”

“Maybe by going to the source and asking him.”

“I would love to, if I could, but since I have no idea where Angels go to get punished by their leader, that’s not happening anytime soon.” I pause, assessing Cameron’s reaction closely. “You wouldn’t by chance know how to bring him back, would you?”

He looks at me like I’m a moron. “Do you think if I did, I’d tell you…” He trails off, tipping his head back with his eyes to the ceiling as he smirks. “Wait a minute. We have company.”

My forehead creases. “What—”

Before I can finish, Cameron poofs into thin air with only a wisp of smoke that takes the form of a shadow left behind.

“Oh, Emmy,” Raven singsongs, and my entire body stiffens. “Can you come downstairs? I need to talk to you.”

Weeks of silence and suddenly she’s barging into my home like we’re still friends? My initial reaction is to run and hide, like I’m a little kid, but I’m not a little kid and I know if I stay up here, then she’s just going to come up. So I reach for the knife I leave on my nightstand—the one I stabbed the guy with—then walk out of the room.

When I reach the top of the stairway, I spot her standing in the foyer, twisting a strand of her bubble gum pink hair around her finger. She looks like she always does; sapphire eyes framed with glitter, glossy lips, wearing black high-heeled boots and a short dress that matches them. There are only two differences between the Raven I met when I was a kid and this one standing in front of me. This one has a fresh scar on her throat where the fake detective—that was really part of the Anamotti—slit Raven’s throat.

“What do you want?” I start down the stairway, slipping the pocket knife into my back pocket, knowing there’s no way I’d actually use it on her, but I wouldn’t hesitate to use it on the Anamotti.

She beams at me like there’s nothing going on, as though we haven’t been ignoring each other for weeks and that she never had secret rendezvous with my brother every night. That she’s not possessed by the Anamotti, even though the X branded on her arm suggests otherwise.

“I just wanted to say hi to my best friend, silly.” She meets me at the bottom of the stairs and then loops her arm through mine. I wince from the contact, her death smothering me like a heavy blanket. Standing on the ledge. Someone begs her to jump, so she does, falling to her death. She glances down at my wrists, noting the gloves I have on to cover up the lines on my skin from drinking Cameron’s life. “What’s with the arm warmers, you weirdo? You’re not even outside.”

“I always wear stuff like this,” I say, which is the truth and normally she wouldn’t question it.

She flicks the edge of the fabric with her finger. “Not when you’re just hanging at the house.” She dithers, releasing my arm with a suspicious look on her face. “Wait a minute… are you going out on a date or something?”

“You know I have no one to go out on a date with,” I remind her; or whoever’s controlling her. “Unlike you, who seems to be going out with my brother at the moment.” It’s a challenge. I’m not sure they’re still meeting up, but I’d like to find out.

She doesn’t miss a beat, managing to breezily dodge my question and focus the conversation back on me. “Maybe you have a date with that guy that moved in across the street. You know, the one that creeper Cameron lived in.”

“His uncle?” I ask. “He’s really old.”

She shrugs with a malicious twinkle in her eye. “Maybe you like old dudes now. I mean, I feel like I barely know you anymore.”

“I’m the same as I’ve always been.” I maintain her gaze, wishing I had that book again so maybe I could figure out a way to bring my friend back. “I think you’re the one that’s changed.”

“No, you’re different,” she replies. “In fact, you seem even crazier than when we first met.”

I shake my head, knowing she’s trying to get a rise out of me. “Raven, why are you here? Other than to insult me. Did you just stop by to see Ian?”

“Why would I want to see Ian?”

“Um, because you’ve been letting him paint you.” I resist an eye roll at her feigned lack of remembering. “I know you’re his secret muse that sneaks into the house.”

“Oh, I haven’t done that in a few weeks,” she says, discounting the truth. “I only came over here to see you.”

My mouth sinks to a frown. “Why?”

She grins. “Because we’re friends and I want to hang out.” Then she grabs my arm again and starts to drag me towards the front door. “I thought we could have some fun like we used to.”

“You haven’t talked to me in weeks.” I plant my feet firmly on the floor, refusing to budge. “And now suddenly you want us to be friends again?”

“So I was thinking we should go bowling tonight.” She tugs on my arm, ignoring me.

“Bowling? Seriously? That’s why you came over here?” I refuse to move and walk into whatever trap is lying ahead of me.

“Yeah, it’d be fun,” she says with a huge smile plastered on her face.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” I ask. “You take art on Tuesdays, right?” With Professor Morgan, who I’m supposed to be calling in like an hour.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” she retorts in a whiney sing-song. We stare each other down until she ultimately lets go of my arm and then stomps her foot against the floor. “Oh, come on, go bowling with me. Please? It’ll be fun.”

“No way,” I say, retreating for the living room. “It would be weird and awkward like this whole conversation.”

“What do you mean?” She tilts her head, confounded. “There’s nothing weird about this conversation. We’re just two best friends hanging out.”

I stop backing away when I reach the doorway of the living room and then point at the front door. “No, we’re not and you should go.”

Now, Ember, is that any way to speak to your best friend. Cameron’s voice reemerges in my head.

How the hell do I get you out of my head? I say loudly inside my head.

You don’t.

I hate you.

No you don’t. You want me, more than you’d like to admit.

“Shut up.” I don’t mean to say it out loud, but it slips out.

Raven gapes at me like I’ve lost it. “Em, are you okay?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Oh, like you already don’t know that I’m not okay. That nothing is okay.”

She doesn’t know about me, Cameron hisses in my head. I already told you I’m not part of the Anamotti and that Reapers hate me and my family, and if you know what’s best for you, you won’t utter a word to her about me.

Well, if that’s what you don’t want me to do, then it’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m not really planning on telling her, just making a threat. When I open my mouth, my jaw snaps shut of its own accord.

I guess we’re going to do this the hard way then. He sighs, like he’s so disappointed. I really would rather not, but you give me no choice.

Suddenly, my mouth turns upward into an enormous grin as I span my hands out to the sides of me. “I’d love to go bowling.” The voice belongs to me, but I’m not controlling it; I’m suddenly nothing more than a puppet, just like everyone else at school.

Cameron, knock it off! I try to run towards the stairs and grab ahold of the railing, but my feet remain planted in place.

No, you need to go with her. It’s important. He sounds serious, which is weird for him. It might help us figure some stuff out.

Us? There is no us. With a loud grunt, I manage to get my foot up and then step back very ungracefully, bumping my hip into the corner table.

“Shall we?” I ask Raven in a very cordial tone.

Cameron chuckles. Shall we? I guess I probably should have done better than that.

I feel a hot sensation whisk through my body and then he swiftly takes over, making my legs move, bringing my knees up a little too far so it looks like I’m marching in a parade. Raven follows after me with a perplexed look on her face as I stumble to the door.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Raven asks as I open the front door and stumble over the threshold. Sunlight shines down on me, yet I feel like I’m stuck in the shadows. In the cold.

You’re feeling me, he explains. I know it’s not the best sensation, but bear with me.

“I’m fine.” My mouth moves as I trip down the stairway and onto the lawn. “I’m perfectly okay.” I plaster a smile on my face, but on the inside I feel completely hollow. So cold. As though I’m losing control of who I am as well as what makes me feel things. I think I could do anything at the moment—good or bad—and be okay with it.

Cameron, what is that? Why is everything so cold? It feels almost like that night in the room when the shadow dove into me.

I have no idea what you’re talking about, he says. I can’t tell if he’s telling the truth or not. But that coldness you feel is the feeling of death, he explains. You’re feeling me right now and the energy of the souls I’ve stolen. I’m part of you at the moment, Ember; part of your mind, body and soul. I just wish I could figure out how to take it. And who knows, maybe you’ll break down and tell me.

Part of my soul?

Oh, God. I’m in deep shit.

Chapter 6

The cops that are always parked out in front of my house are gone, probably taking one of their very rare breaks. The sun is shining down on the neighborhood, but it’s eerily quiet with everyone too afraid to step outside or something. Leaves shower from the trees and land on the frosted ground, crunching underneath my boots.

“I made them leave,” Raven states as we cross the piece of lawn between our houses to her car parked in the driveway next door.

“Made who leave?” I work to stay upright as Cameron ungracefully controls my legs.

She grins as she rounds the back of her silver car. “The cops.” She unlocks the door, smiling to herself. “I know they’ve been watching you.”

I swallow hard as my arm stretches out and my fingers wrap around the door handle. I give it a tug and the door swings open. Then, bumping my head on the ceiling, I climb in. Raven gets in too and starts up the car.

“They think you killed all those girls,” she says as she starts the engine while I buckle my seatbelt.

See, I care about you, Cameron says as he forces me to buckle it.

Yeah, I’m sure you do. And that’s why you’ve made me get into a car with a

girl that’s possessed by the Anamotti and is probably leading me straight into a trap.

Just trust me. That’s what we want.

I already told you that you have to earn trust and this isn’t the way.

“So, this should be fun,” Raven says as she backs down the driveway and turns onto the street.

“Yeah, I guess,” I mutter.

What do you mean this is what we want? How are you doing this, Cameron? How are you controlling me? I thought the Anamotti couldn’t control me like they control part of the humans.

I already told you that I’m not part of the Anamotti.

Yeah, but you weren’t able to do this before… make me move like this and talk inside my head. So what’s changed?

You.

What do you mean?

I sit quietly in the passenger seat of Raven’s car, waiting for an answer, however he offers me none. I rack my brain for something that might have changed over the last few days, but I draw up a blank other than the fact that I’ve gotten lonelier.

Is that how you’re doing it? I ask. Because I’m lonely and vulnerable.

He stays silent and I wonder if he’s still inside me. I’ve gotten less cold and the hollowness is starting to fill again. Perhaps he lost his hold over me. How can I find out for sure, though? I glance at Raven and then at the door handle, deciding to give it a try. I wait for her to slow down at the stop sign at the end of the road and then I focus on moving my hand towards the handle to jump out of the car, but it won’t budge—nothing will. Not my legs. My feet. My arms. Dammit!

I sit up straight in the seat with my hands on my lap, doing the only thing I can do. Nothing. Raven has the air conditioning cranked up even though it’s cold outside with frost glazing the leaves and sidewalks and everyone walking up and down the sidewalk is wearing jackets. I didn’t even think to grab mine, but then again, I wasn’t really thinking on my own when I left the house.

Relax, you look beautiful, Cameron assures me. You always do.

“Oh, shut up,” I say and Raven shoots me a stunned look.

“Excuse me?” She says, turning down the radio with one hand while she grips onto the steering wheel with the other.

“It’s nothing.” I sigh and rotate towards the window, knowing there’s probably a very slim chance that I’m just going bowling. Cameron starts laughing in my head again while Raven mutters something under her breath about me losing my mind. I need to calm down. Get myself together. Yes, Cameron has control of my body, but he doesn’t have control of my mind. I start creating poetry, putting letters and words together.

Wings of freedom

Eyes of light

Touch that stills me

And Comforts

Like rays of sunshine

Instead of shadows

I start to relax, but then Cameron’s and my thoughts mingle, and he takes over my internal poetry.

Through the whispers of the willows,

One leaf strives to survive

But endangered from the wind and branches,

It slowly starts to die

Though maybe that’s what’s better for it;

To give up, surrender, and make peace

Then perhaps it will taste the powerful freedom

Of the wind.

The darkness.

Surrender and give in.

I keep my thoughts to myself, pretending that Cameron isn’t inside my head, that this isn’t happening, but he chortles, reminding me that he’s there.

“So how’s school, Emmy?” Raven asks as she merges the car onto the highway. She’s using my nickname to get to me. She knows that’s what my dad used to call me and that it hurts whenever I hear it.

“Schools great,” I lie with a tight smile, wondering if she knows what’s been going on there. “I haven’t seen you around much, though.”

“That’s because I spend most of my time in the art room.” She beams from ear to ear.

“That’s good.” I keep my tone light. “I’m sure you’ve been very happy then.”

“Oh superbly happily,” she says. “In fact, I’ve been spending a lot of time with the art Professor.”

“You’ve been spending time with Professor Morgan?” I question in doubt. How can that be if he’s good?

Raven nods while she checks her reflection in the mirror as we drive over the bridge. “I have. In fact, we meet up every day after his last class.”

See I told you, Cameron says. Don’t trust anyone.

Just because he’s spending time with her, doesn’t mean he’s bad.

Do you really believe that?

I’m not sure. And that’s the painful truth. I thought it was a little weird to begin with that Asher’s uncle abruptly approached me and handed all that information to me on a silver platter. Not to mention that he then gave me the blank book that doesn’t make any sense.

“He’s super hot, too, just like Asher,” Raven says, interrupting my thoughts.

My heart tightens in my chest at the mention of Asher. God, I miss him, more than I allow myself to. I wish he was here with me, filling me with the quiet and fulfillment his touch brings whenever he feels me, kisses me—

Wow, living in your head is kind of disturbing. Cameron sounds annoyed.

“You know, you never did explain to me where Asher went,” Raven says, adjusting her mirror. “After that whole fiasco in the cemetery.”

My mouth moves on its own. “I think he died.”

“What?” Raven gapes at me, genuinely stunned.

“Yeah, back in the cemetery.” I have no control anymore.

She seems unconvinced, shooting me a doubtful look. “You don’t seem that upset about it.”

“I guess it’s because I was really in love with Cameron.” I try to shake my head at Cameron, but fail.

What? He asks innocently. Weren’t you in love with him?

I’m not sure… just like I’m not sure why I’m talking to you about this.

Raven gapes at me in disbelief for a moment before she returns her attention back to the road, grabbing her sunglasses from the cup holder between us and putting them on. I watch Hollows Grove blur by; Phil’s Shenanigans and Fun, the bar Asher and I had our first date in, the outdated buildings that make up Main Street, an auto shop, and the trailer park. Finally, at the end of it—near the mouth of the canyon—we pull up in front of Dina’s Bowling Alley. An open sign flashes in neon pink from the window and there are groups of people hanging around by the front door.

“Wow, there are a lot of people here,” she remarks as she puts the car into park and turns off the engine. “This should be fun.”

“I guess so.” Even though I don’t want to, my fingers find the buckle of the seat belt and unfasten it. Then I get out of the car and meet Raven at the front, hyperaware that there are a lot of eyes focused on me. Things only get stranger when we enter the building and it’s packed. Everyone looks really happy, too; too happy. Laughing. Chatting. Smiles. Drinks. It’s not like at the college, yet there’s still something off about it; like I’ve stepped into a 1950s sitcom where everyone is eerily cheery.

The walls are splashed with rainbow patterns and there are arcade games to my left, flashing florescent colors and making loud noises. A 1970s something song plays from the speakers and it seems like a lot of the people around know the lyrics as they mutter them under their breath and sway their hips to the beat. To my right, there’s a very long waiting line to get shoes and to pay for a lane. I search their faces, looking for signs that their eyes are glowing; that they’re possessed.

“Wait here,” Raven tells me, taking her sunglasses off and putting them on top of her head. Then she skips to the front counter, swinging her arms while guys check out her ass.

My body reclines against the wall beside the door and waits to find out what she’s up to. Probably something bad, I’m sure, but I need to figure out what the Anamotti have got up their sleeve.

Relax, I won’t let anything hurt you. His voice fills my head. It sounds like he’s being sincere, too.

Why are you doing this? And how? How can you suddenly control me?

That’s not important right now. All I need from you at this moment is to do what I tell you to do. Then, hopefully, this will go smoothly.

What’s going to go smoothly? Please just tell me something! I start to get worked up again, fighting to regain control of my body; attempting to bend my knees, my elbow, even blink on my own.

Keep calm. You’re standing in a room full of the Anamotti.

My jaw wants to drop as my gaze swiftly sweeps around the room, and the truth slaps me in the head as I realize that everyone around me has an X carved into their forehead or on their arm, their eye… Garrick, the guy who tormented me the first time Raven was possessed.

He looks just how I remember him; ridiculous sideburns, a leather jacket and the X over his eye like it’s an eye patch. He recognizes me, too. I can see it on his face as he stares at me through the crowd, leaning against the wall with a knowing smile on his face. Yet, he turns away like nothing happened between us, like he didn’t try to kill me. As if he doesn’t want to.

Don’t panic. I won’t let anything happen to you, Cameron promises. Trust me, princess. I might not always do things that are good, but when it comes to you, I do.

I laugh aloud and a sturdy guy carrying a soda shoots me a suspicious look. I clear my throat and pretend to have a fascination with a small space of floor in front of my feet, worried that if I look up, they’ll all attack me. I’m practically in a shark pit, and yet, no one is taking a bite. It’s not the same as at the college. The people there were in a trance state, however these people seem very alert. Very alive.

That’s because they’re Anamotti, Cameron says. Not humans with possessed souls.

Then why aren’t they coming after me?

Because they have a plan.

What sort of plan? I ask, but he doesn’t respond. Cameron, why did you bring me here? What’s the point, other than to get me to walk straight into the enemy’s hands?

To find out something important… something that might help you stop that death omen from happening, or at least help us figure out more about it.

I’m not sure if he’s telling the truth, but there’s nothing I can do about it right now. I look over at the counter where Raven is laughing at something the cash register guy says. He’s got an X on his forehead, too, and Raven has one on her forearm. They both look happy, but in a really creepy, possessed way.

Is she… is she one of them? I mean, is that even possible? To change into one? I ask Cameron, not wanting to trust him, but I don’t have a choice at the moment. I can’t even feel my legs and arms anymore.

She’s possessed, yes, but she’s not one of them… yet. Yes, it’s possible, though. To die and become a Reaper if under the possession for too long.

I manage to glance down at my arms, noting that they’re shaking from the fear I’m sure I feel, yet the coldness inside me blocks it out.

You won’t die, princess. Relax.

That’s not what I’m upset about. Well, not the only reason.

I hate thinking about how Asher risked breaking the rules to save Raven. On the night I first met Asher, he was supposed to collect Raven’s soul after Landon tried to rape and kill her but instead he killed Landon because he said he saw in my eyes that Raven meant a lot to me. And now look at her; possessed and fraternizing with the enemy. Asher’s risk was all for nothing and now he’s being punished for it.

Is she… are they going to hurt me? I ask Cameron with my eyes fixed on Raven while she throws her head back and laughs as the cashier guy leans on the counter eyeing her with want.

No, but they’re going to fuck with your head. That’s why they brought you here. They’re trying to break you down quickly and hopefully get you arrested for the murders.

I swallow hard, frozen in place even though I want to run. That’s why they sent Raven to get me today? She’s setting me up, right? But I don’t get it. Why would she ever think I’d come with her when she knows I know she’s under the control of the Anamotti. Isn’t she even a little suspicious of why I just came with her without much of a fight?

Well, I think, if you didn’t willingly come here, he says. Then they probably would have forced you to. He pauses. And here’s the really crazy part of all this; I’m going to need you to play along with whatever they try to do to you. Let them think they’ve got into your head, like they did back at the Halloween dance, let them think you’re caving to them so they’ll let their guard down… let things slip. Make mistakes.

I try to inch towards the door, but to no avail. No. Way. I need to leave, Cameron. I can’t get arrested again.

You can’t go yet. I need you to find out… He trails off.

Cameron, I need more details if—

“Hey, Emmy.” Raven appears in front of me with a pair of shoes in each of her hands and a fake smile on her face. “You ready for this?”

I clear my throat several times before Cameron lets me speak again. “Absolutely.” I take the shoes she offers me and then weave through the crowd towards a bench at the back near the cubbies, practically skipping.

Cameron, please tone down the skipping. I don’t walk like this.

He laughs, but then sighs. Yeah, you’re right. That’s more of a Raven thing.

My feet slow as I reach the cubby area in the corner. I fight to breathe as hundreds of deaths pour through me like liquid fire, scorching my skin, as I walk through the crowd. Fire. Drowning. Hanging. Pain. Blood. Solitude. It singes the back of my throat as I taste each one, but I inhale through my nose and feel Cameron trying to help me stay calm. When I sink down on the bench, I breathe freely as the crowd parts and opens up. I hear balls rolling down the lanes behind me, crashing against the pins as I slip off my boots and tuck them into a cubby.

Raven drops down beside me and slips her foot out of her boot. “So, what do you think?”

I glance up at her as I tie my shoe. “About what?”

She kicks off her other boot and then wiggles her foot into her shoe. “About this place, duh.” She rolls her eyes at me.

I shrug as I tie my other shoe. “Looks like the bowling alley we’ve had in town since I was six.”

She grins at me, and for a second, she looks like my real best friend. “Remember how my dad used to take us here?”

I nod, genuinely smiling, and Cameron lets it through. The memory is a good one and deserves the credit. “I do. It was a lot of fun. Probably the most fun I ever had at the time.”

Her grin expands as she slips on the other shoe and laces it. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” I agree and then the conversation stops as I sit there, waiting for whatever comes next.

Raven finishes putting her shoes on then pulls me to my feet and drags me over to the lanes, stopping in front of two guys. They both are tall with the same black hair styled to the side, but their eye color is different and their features slightly vary; one’s are sharper than the other’s. Still, the resemblance between them is freakishly strange.

“Emmy, I’d like to introduce you to Geldon and Emerson.” Raven gestures between the two of them while I attempt not to stare at the X’s branded on their foreheads.

“It’s great to meet you,” I say with a smile.

They smile back, but there’s darkness behind it and then Geldon reaches out to shake my hand.

“And you are?” His voice purrs out like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse and devour it.

I think he likes you, Cameron jokes, but his amusement falls flat.

“Ember.” Holding my breath, I wrap my fingers around his hand. Screams. Blood pouring like a river. I can’t see. Where did you go? Fall. Fall. Fall.  “Ember.” He continues to hold my hand with his gaze fastened on me like I’m a piece of candy he wants to taste. “That’s a unique name.”

“So is Geldon,” I reply, trying to pull my hand away, but Cameron has taken over again and all I can do is helplessly stand there, feeling his horrid death. I can’t go alone. Come with me. I need to breathe. Fly. Do you trust me? No!

Finally, he frees my hand and thankfully Emerson seems more focused on Raven than getting to know me. I wonder what happened with Garrick, the member of the Anamotti she was dating the first time she was possessed. Just a few weeks ago Raven was under his possession, but now they act as if they don’t recognize each other.

Raven is obeying orders from someone else, Cameron clarifies. Her connection with Garrick doesn’t exist anymore.

What do you mean her connection?

I mean that, in the past, Garrick was the one controlling everything Raven did to you, but now there’s someone else controlling her.

Like how you’re controlling me? I head towards the seating area.

No, this is different. What I did to you… well, not everyone can do that. You’re a Grim Angel and you’re not supposed to be possessed.

I start to lower myself into a chair in front of the lane beside the score board, but Cameron forces me to head towards the bowling balls while Geldon follows behind me, chatting about food and sodas, asking if I’m hungry, however I barely can hear him.

I pause when I reach the balls. So who exactly is possessing Raven now, if it’s not Garrick?

Cameron doesn’t respond, instead he makes me search for a ball. At the same time, Emerson and Raven quickly start making out in one of the seats; Raven straddling his lap while he reaches up her dress, grabbing her ass.

“Do they know each other?” I ask Geldon as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans, watching me with inquisitiveness.

“As much as anyone else knows each other here,” he says with a wink.

I shudder at his wink as I select a pink ball and pick it up. It’s a lot heavier than I expected and I almost drop it on my toe.

“Easy there,” Geldon says, reaching out and helping me get the ball back into my hand.

I force a tight smile as he braces his hand on the small of my back. “Thanks,” I mutter then approach the lane.

What the hell am I doing here? I ask Cameron.

Well, the point is to try and knock over as many pins as you can.

I’m not talking about bowling, Cameron. I roll my eyes as I stop at the edge of the lane. I mean here, at the bowling alley. What are we looking for?

You’re looking for their leader, Cameron whispers.

The Reapers’ leader? I shut one of my eyes and get a good aim at the pins as I bring my arm back.

No, the leader of the Anamotti, the one who has made it his mission to track down all the Grim Angels and get rid of them one by one. I think he might know something about what’s going on with our leader and maybe what he looks like.

The leader of the Anamotti is here in the bowling alley, right now?

I think so. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.

What does he look like? I ask, angling my head to the side as I focus on the pins at the end of the lane.

I’m not sure, he says. All I know is that his name is Alton.

Shaking my head, I stroll forward and swing my arm forward, stumbling at the last second. My aim starts to drift to the side towards the gutter, but Cameron quickly seizes control and jerks me back to the left, regaining my balance for me. My fingers leave the holes in the ball and seconds later it’s rolling straight towards the pins.

Strike. He laughs as all the pins topple over.

I roll my eyes as I turn around, ready to head back to the bench and sit down. Instead, I crash straight into a rock solid chest.

“Sorry,” I mutter, pushing back, but someone grabs ahold of my wrist and secures me in place. Their body heat floods me instead of their death. I slowly tip my chin up and meet the eyes of a tall stranger. Beautiful eyes that glisten like pieces of sea glass. His blonde hair runs to his shoulders, his features flawless like they were carved out of stone and his lips are as red as a rose… or blood. I’ve also seen him before, in the newspaper, and when I was at the campus today.
Edmund Baker, town Mayor, and Mackenzie’s dad.

“Don’t worry, I’m a lot stronger than I look,” he says, his voice is melodious and welcoming.

“Yeah, I guess so…” I trail off, my lips refusing to move anymore. It feels like I should feel more fear, but all I feel is numb. Dead inside. Stunned.

Shit, Cameron whispers. I’m losing control of you…

What…? My thoughts get lost in the magnetism I feel pulling me towards the person before me.

The corners of his lips turn upward into a grin. “Are you okay?”

I nod, dazzled by his eyes, his lips, by everything. It’s like I’m drowning in him and suddenly the cold inside me doesn’t feel so cold anymore. It feels very inviting. In fact, I crave it; crave death. “I’m fine…”

Why the hell am I not more afraid? This man murdered his daughter.

Ember, don’t let him get control…

His smile darkens. “You look a little flushed.”

I feel flushed. “I’m okay. I promise.” My head does feel extremely foggy, though; like I’m standing near a lake and fog is circling me everywhere while I can barely think or see straight.

“I’m Alton,” he says and I know I’m in deep trouble, yet I can’t seem to react to it. “And you are?”

“Ember Rose Edwards,” I say dazedly, still gazing up at him. Alton. The mayor is Alton. The mayor is the leader of the Anamotti? Holy shit.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he tells me then lifts his hand to stroke my cheek. He sweeps his finger across my cheekbone once and then withdraws his hand back to his side. “Very poetic.” He assesses me for a moment more, and then starts to pull me with him as he heads over towards the counter. “Here; come with me.”

I follow him without even questioning him, not moving my own feet, yet I don’t think Cameron is the one controlling me anymore, either. It’s Alton, although I don’t understand how.

Alton leads me over to the concession area with his hand resting on the small of my back, effortlessly steering me through the crowd. I think he’s going to get in line, but instead he strolls up to the front, cutting in line exactly how Raven did with the shoes.

“Two waters, Adellia,” he says to the lady behind the counter who’s over-dressed in a sparkling, floor length skirt, a sheer top and hoop earrings with her hair done up in curls.

“Of course, Alton,” she says and then rushes off to the soda fountain as if he’s the most important person in the world.

I find myself leaning into Alton, and his grip tightens on me as he draws me closer and breathes in my scent. “You smell so good.”

Cameron, what should I do…? I’m losing control… and this guy… he’s Mackenzie’s dad.

He doesn’t respond and I start to get worried. Cameron said that the Anamotti brought me here to set me up. Is that what’s going on? Has Alton taken over my body so he can force me to say I’m the one who’s been murdering people?

I peer around the room, looking for cops, but all I see are Anamotti. Everywhere.

“So, Ember, are you from here?” Alton asks, relaxing against the counter top, putting his elbow on top of the glass.

“I’ve lived here all my life,” I admit, not under my own will, but I can’t tell whose will it is anymore; who’s controlling me.

“Wow, you must have some interesting stories,” he says, admiring his refection in the glass of the counter top, gripping onto my arm. I have to lean forward with him.

“Not really.” I notice how quiet the room has gotten and I look around. Everyone is gathering around and watching me with hunger in their eyes.

“You know, there is a rumor that the town was built on an old battlefield, one that went on between the Angels and the Reapers and conclusively the Grim Angel breed was created right afterward,” Alton tells me, flicking his hair with his pinky as his fingers finally leave my arm. “That the town is linked to every part of the battle, every part of death, and therefore carries a lot of power linked to death.”

“Really?” I ask as the cashier lady returns with our waters, grinning at Talton and narrowing her eyes at me. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“Of course you haven’t.” He devilishly smiles as he picks up the cup. “Why would you? No one else knows. No human anyway.”

I swallow the lump in my throat as the people around me start to close in on me. “I think I should go—” Someone nudges me from behind and I trip forward, straight into Alton.

His arms envelope me so he can steady me to my feet. “Either you really like falling into me or you’re clumsy. But I’ll take either.” He takes hold of my arm again, his fingers pressing down into my skin so hard that I wonder if I’ll have bruises. Then he reaches behind his back with his free hand and I wish I could do the same thing. Take the knife out of my back pocket. Stab him. Kill him.

But I’m frozen in place, unable to control my own body, and all I can do is wait. This is it. I can feel it. They’re about to take me down.

“You know, a lot is going to change around this town soon. A lot of deaths will be happening,” he says, which causes me to think of the death omen I saw back at the campus. “All for a greater cause, of course.”

“Deaths you cause.” Suddenly my mouth and words are my own again. Freedom. It tastes divine. However I have no room for celebration as the Anamotti start to close in on me.

Alton smiles cleverly at me. “Of course. Who else would be clever enough to cause them?”

Grinning like the Cheshire cat, I scoot out of his hold. “Well, it could easily have been The Torva.” My brief control is gone again, back in the hands of who the hell knows. “They are cleverer than the Anamotti.”

He misses a beat as he searches my eyes with a hint of fear in his own. Whatever the hell the Torva is has him worried. “I see you know more than I thought, which surprises me. My daughter said you weren’t very bright.”

The daughter you killed, I want to say it, but I lose control of my mouth again, Cameron taking over.

“Of course I do,” I respond nonchalantly. “After all, I’m part of you, aren’t I? Half Angel. Half Reaper. Your blood runs through my veins and so does your knowledge.”

His lids lower as he glares at me, his arm moving from behind his back. I detect a flicker of silver, like a blade catching in the light, and I try to reach behind my own back, for my own knife.

My knee springs upward and slams straight into the guy’s balls with more force than I know I’m capable of. Human or not, Alton still crumples to his knees, his face contorted in pain. Seconds later, I’m diving for him, cupping his face in-between my hands. Without even thinking, I dip down and seal my lips to his, swiftly breathing in his life. I taste the deaths of the girl’s he’s killed. I can feel the power residing inside him, the power he gets from death. I feel this twisted urge to kill him—kill other people. It’s flowing off him and coursing through me, along with the potent death omen. Blood. People covering the street. So much blood.

He groans as I jerk back with the faint taste of him on my tongue. My lips part in shock as I feel his life burning venomously through me. I start to back away, withdrawing the knife, very aware that I’m the one who took it out. I want to kill him. Hurt him. Bleed him out until he’s screaming for mercy.

What’s happening to me?

Anger burns in Alton’s eyes as he glares at me. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“Don’t count on it.” I lunge forward and strike the blade of the knife across his cheek, drawing a trail of blood.

He growls as someone slams into me and I fall to the ground, flat on my stomach, dropping my knife. Black capes swish around me as my head smacks against the floor. My ears ring while I see feathers floating everywhere. Just like in the alley.

I push myself up, wanting to charge each one of them and cause them incredible amounts of misery and pain, but I’m pulled back down to the ground by the power of Cameron. Then, suddenly, the capes shift into shadows that dance and twirl around me, chilling the air. When there’s a loud bang, I cover my head, feeling the fire on my back again; sweltering heat, melting my skin. It feels as if my flesh is tearing open and suddenly, there’s a bursting of the pressure that has built. Black feathers rain all around me and then everything goes silent.

Chapter 7

In the corner

Lives a girl

Balled up

Lonely

Sullen

Locked away

By herself

She gave up

Curling in

Like a petal

Dying

Wilting

Edges browning

Cracking

So easy

The petal fell

Scattered like dust

Across

The charred ground

Covered with Cinders

Waiting to burn out.

***

“Ember, open your eyes,” Cameron whispers, his voice hued with panic. “Come on, fight it.”

My skin sears, liquid fire pulsating through my veins. I need something; I need deaths. Souls. I need blood on my hands. I need the fire on my back to subside. I need to stop melting.

“Goddammit, princess.” Cameron sounds worried, but I can’t see him. I can’t see anything; I can only feel the aching need to feel death on my lips again.

“I need it,” I whisper. “Death… I need it.”

Cameron mutters under his breath and then he’s surrounding me, touching me, feeling me with his hands. I bask in it, wanting to press my lips against his and steal the breath from him, but I can’t find him. Yet he ends up finding me and giving me exactly what I want.

Our lips touch.

He feeds my hunger.

Fills my veins.

Bringing me closer to death.

And farther away from life.

From good.

From Asher.

***

My eyelids flutter open, my eyeballs rolling back into my head that throbs in protest along with my whole body. My lids slip back shut. “Oh, my God,” I groan. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

“Not a truck, just a stampede of Anamotti.” The sound of Cameron’s voice hurts my head even more, especially since it’s no longer in my head. “Plus, you fed off their leader’s death, so I’m sure that didn’t help.”

“What the hell happened?” I groan, clutching onto my head. “What was all that stuff… or was I dreaming?”

“You weren’t dreaming,” he says. “You fed off Alton’s life, not because of me. It made you turn rabid for a moment, too much evil blood. But don’t worry; I helped you out.”

When I finally get my eyelids to open, I squint as the light of my room hits them. After I blink a few times, things around me start to take shape. My walls. My bed. My window. Cameron standing beside my doorway, looking very relaxed with his hands in his pockets and a bored expression on his face.

“What do you mean, you helped me out?” I ask, but as soon as I say it, I feel the lines on my arms burn. “Dammit, Cameron, did you make me take more of your life?”

“I had to,” he insists, strolling towards me. He sinks down on the bed, the mattress concaving beneath his weight. “Alton’s blood was too much for you and you would have probably gone on a killing spree if I didn’t override it with mine.”

“And like your blood is any better.” I ask, sitting up.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “You don’t feel like killing anyone right now, right? You should be thanking me.”

I glare at him even though he’s right. “I wouldn’t have had to go through any of it if you wouldn’t have forced me to go to the bowling alley.”

“I was only trying to help you. If we can get to Alton, then maybe we can get to the leader of the Reapers, figure out what he looks like, what he’s planning.” His fingers brush my legs, sending shivers through my body.

“Why are you so dead set on stopping him?” I wonder, leaning against the headboard. “When he’s the leader of you?”

“Lots of reasons,” he says, bringing his knee up onto the bed. “One being that if I find him and can kill him it means freeing my family from a curse. He’s been in hiding forever and impossible to get to, but if he’s here than not so much.”

“What curse?”

“The one that makes the Logan’s outcasts,” he explains in a venomous tone. “Traps us here on earth even after the battle is over and quite honestly I’m getting sick and tired of being trapped in the human world. No offense.”

“None taken.” I search his eyes for a sign that he’s lying, but for once he seems like he’s telling the truth. “Well, I want to stop him too. And stop Alton from murdering anymore people.” I shake my head. “I can’t believe it… he killed all those girls because he needed they’re deaths… I could feel it flowing off him—the need to kill so he could survive and gain power.”

“What did you say?” he asks, stiffening. “He needs to kill to survive and gain power?”

I nod. “That’s what I felt when I drank some of his life… death. It’s weird because usually my gift doesn’t work like that—usually I only see the person’s death. But I felt the death’s on him and his need for deaths.”

He brushes strands of his hair out of his eyes, with a pucker in his brow. “That doesn’t sound like the leader of the Anamotti at all,” he says, staring off into empty space.

“I think it does,” I disagree, remembering how the detective tried to kill Raven with no remorse at all. “A guy who’s killing innocent girls to feed his sick urge to take people’s lives.”

“It’s not just an urge,” he says. “It’s a need—a need that the leader of the Reapers has.”

“You think the leader of the Anamotti is the leader of the Reapers?” I ask incredulously. “You think Alton is Altarius Vinceton.” I pause as I say it, my poetry forming mind sifting through the letters. “Take the first two letters of Altarius and the last three of Vinceton and you have Alton.”

The color drains from Cameron’s face. “This is very bad,” he says, his gaze elevating to me and for a fleeting instant I see fear. “Not only because he’s the mayor of the town, but it also means that the leader of the Reapers is now rebelling with the Anamotti and torturing Grim Angels, which means there’s no control left in my world. Anything can happen to anyone, including me.”

“So many innocent people are dying.” I shake my head, wishing I didn’t believe him. But I do. “He’s killing off people to thrive… God and I’ve seen what he’s planning to do… all those lives.” Anger burst through me and Cameron seems to get kicks off it, leaning closer to me as if he’s going to kiss me. “Could you give me some space, please?” I ask, pressing my head back against the pillow.

He remains still for a moment then reclines back, looking too composed as he fleetingly glances around my room, his gaze landing on a poem that I wrote on my wall. He reads it aloud, “Beneath the weakened structure lies something more.
Something softer, yet stronger. It may appear brittle and unstable, like desert dust. But it’s as sturdy as steal.
It carries itself.
Flourishes like flowers.
Breathes and thrives.
It’s life to the very core.” He pauses when he finishes then looks back at me. “You know, you’re very talented.”

I don’t respond. Despite the fact that I despise him, Cameron is a very talented poet himself and he’s kind of complimenting me. We stare at each other for a moment then finally he sits up straight and so do I.

“Goddamn, my head hurts.” I wince from the pain as the memories of everything I did at the bowling alley come back to me.

“Yeah, sorry about the headache,” he says, but doesn’t seem very remorseful. “I accidentally lost control of your body for a moment. I think Alton may have some controlling power of his own, although I don’t get how? Grim Angels are supposed to be protected from Reapers’ possession since they have Reapers’ blood in them.”

“Perhaps he did the same thing as you.”

“Trust me; he didn’t do the same thing. I’m guessing it might have something to do with him being the leader and having more power… plus he’s feeding off the energy of souls by killing people…” He trails off, looking confused. “God, I could feel his power… it was amazing, to say the least.” He glances down at my arms that are covered with gloves. “He could have very easily taken over, if I hadn’t stepped up.”

It takes me a second to catch on. I quickly tug off one of my gloves and curse at the sight of the darkened lines. “That’s why you wanted me to take your life.” I grimace, tracing my finger over the lines. “So you could control me. God, I should have seen that coming.”

“How could you ever begin to understand enough about Reapers and death to know that?” He tilts his head to the side, folding his arms over his chest, looking as though he wants to touch me. “There’s still so much you don’t understand.”

“Like what a Torva is?” I ask, putting my gloves back on, not wanting to look at the painful reminder of what I did.

He shrugs me off. “That’s just another term for our leader, a term used amongst Reapers. I could tell it unsettled Alton when you—well—I, said it; like you might understand more than what the Anamotti want you to.”

“I hardly understand anything,” I say. “Like the town being built on a battlefield… I’ve never heard of that before.”

“That’s because the war wasn’t properly recorded, at least in human recordings” he tells me, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “The battle between Reapers and Angels.”

I point out the window at the town and mountains around the house. “I can’t believe that battle took place in little old Hollows Grove. It seems impossible.”

“Why?” he asks. “With all the Anamotti running around, it shouldn’t be that surprising. We’re drawn to the place this all started, where our lives here on earth began and the place where Grim Angels were created.”

“So, is it just a coincidence that I’m here… that I was born here in the town the battle took place in and where Grim Angels were first created?”

He looks at me like I’m a moron. “What do you think?” He scoots towards me and places a hand on my knee. “You know, for such a small town, Hollows Grove has a very high Grim Angel population, or used to anyway. They’re connected to this place—your connected to this place, whether you like it or not.”

“Like my father was connected to this place.” I slip my knee out from under his hand.

“Does it matter, since your father’s dead?" he says with a complete lack of compassion.

I glare at him. “Yeah, but is he dead?” I watch his reaction closely. “You never did tell me what you knew about his death that day you showed up to warn me; only that you knew he was going to die soon.”

He glances around to the open window where the moon is shining just outside. His expression is haunting, and if I look closely, I can see anguish in his eyes. Then he sighs, looking back at me, and the look is gone. “I have to go.” He starts to get up, but I snag the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him.

“Cameron, if you know anything about my dad, please just tell me and stop messing with my head,” I say with a plea in my voice. “You said you want my trust. Well, if you tell me, then maybe I’ll trust you more.”

He stares down at me, and for the briefest second, he almost looks human, yet it quickly vanishes as he pulls his arm away. “Until next time, princess.”

As he then starts to walk away, I spring from my bed, but I’m slammed right back down by an invisible force, landing on the bed.

Wait until tomorrow and I’ll tell you more.

Before I can respond, his cape materializes out of thin air. Standing in the center of my room, he wraps the black fabric around his body then he’s folding up, shrinking into a ball; his arms sliding in, bending, twisting, his legs kinking. Wings sprout from his side, black feathers, a beak. There’s a poof and then suddenly I’m not in a room with a Reaper but with a raven.

“Cameron, come back!” I shout out at him as he circles around my head and then flies out the open window into the night, disappearing in the moonlight. Frustrated, I flop down on the bed and shut my eyes. I’m not sure what to do. Stay here? Am I even safe anymore? I’m not even certain how I got out of the bowling alley alive. I worry that the Anamotti are going to come bursting through my door at any moment. And that Edmund Baker—Alton—who ever the hell he is will be with them, ready to take control over me again and make me feel those God awful things.

I need to make a plan. One that will make Cameron fess up to what he knows. A way to get these lines off my arm. A way to strengthen my mind. A way to figure out where my mother is. I need a plan for a lot of things, like how to save the town, which might be possible if I could get the words back on the pages of the book and find out how to free innocent souls.

I think about Elliot and how I was supposed to call him, but can I trust him? He tossed the book into my bag with the pages all erased… Maybe it was a warning. That he’s been watching me. That he’s the shadow who stole it that night.

Can I trust anyone?

Sighing, I take my phone from my pocket along with Elliot’s number. I unfold it and set it down on the bed beside me. As I swipe my finger across the screen of my cellphone, I notice that I have a missed call and a voicemail. I press the button to listen to it, putting the phone up to my ear while I find myself hoping it’s from my mother.

But it’s Elliot’s voice that appears on the other end. “Hey Ember, it’s a quarter after five… I’m a little worried about you since you were supposed to call at four.” I can hear voices in the background. “Please give me a call when you can. There are some things I need to discuss with you in private about that book I gave you… I know you’re probably wondering why the pages are all blank, why I have it, why I gave it to you… I know you must think I’m the one that stole it from you…. But I just need you to know that everything I did was to protect the book from falling into the wrong hands.” Someone whispers something in the background and the message ends.

I hang up, unsure of what to do, whether I can trust him. Whether I should just hold onto the book until I can figure out what’s going on. My dad’s words of wisdom echo in my head. Emmy, if there’s one thing you need to know about life, it’s to never, ever trust anyone or anything. Life is a freaking mind game and you and I are the pawns.

My mind is racing a million miles a minute as I attempt to sort through everything going on, however it’s like a maze and I have no idea how to get to the end, or if there’s even an end.  Still, I call Professor Morgan, if only to question him about how he got the book, but it goes straight to his voicemail again.

Not knowing what else to do, I climb off my bed and hide the book in an old antique trunk my grandmother gave me for my fourth birthday that has a hidden bottom. Then I lie down on my bed and stare up at the ceiling, trying to block everything out; all the noise, thoughts, worries, and fears. I manage to tune most of it out when exhaustion gets to me, but I don’t feel any better.

Because the quietness is just as unsettling as the noise.

Chapter 8

I’m not sure how much time drifts before I fall asleep or how I even manage to fall asleep, although somehow I do. I don’t dream at all, at least from what I can remember, and I’m relieved because it gives me time to calm down.

Then I start to hear voices. Not in my head, but coming from downstairs. At first I think it’s probably Ian and disregard the noise, yet then this loud banging starts to happen over and over again. I open my eyes to my dark room, the moon shining through my window, and the branches of the tree just outside dancing with the soft breeze.

As I sit up, the banging grows louder, so I hurry and get out of bed, heading over to the door. Cracking it, I listen to the murmur of voices that are actually coming from Ian’s studio in the attic. I can’t tell what they’re saying, so I open the door wider and step out of my room.

The air is chilly, like someone turned the air conditioning on, so I pad to the thermostat, only to find that it’s turned up passed eighty. Shivering, I turn around and pad down the hallway towards the attic door. When I reach it, I hesitate to open it, listening to the chatter on the other side. There are definitely two different voices, one deep like a male’s and one high like a female’s.

I’m worried that the female’s might be Raven’s, considering what happened at the bowling alley. Still, if my brother’s in there, she could be trying to hurt him. So, summoning my courage, I grab the doorknob and open the door.

A slimy chill slithers up my spine the second the stale air on the other side of the door hits me. The voices instantly shush, but the banging continues. It’s dark inside, only a single candle is burning from the center of the room, creating a pale orb around the slanted ceiling and wooden walls. There are paintings inside the small space, covered with sheets while paint and brushes litter the floor.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I enter the room. The candle flickers as a breeze sweeps up behind me and my attention darts to the side of me as a loud thud echoes through the room. Horror pours through me as I realize what’s causing the banging. Ian. He’s facing the wall with his back turned to me, banging his forehead on the wall, over and over again.

“Ian,” I say, hurrying towards him. “What are you doing?”

He immediately stops banging his head on the wall and gradually turns around to face me. His hair is disheveled, his clothes wrinkly and stained with either red paint or blood, and he has a cut on his lip that wasn’t there the last time I saw him.

“Oh, my God, what happened?” I hurry towards him and reach for the cut on his lip, but he slaps my hand out of the way. I stumble back as his death flickers inside me and strangles me. Fire. Burning around him. Flames bright. He wants to be there. He wants to burn alive.

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps furiously, staggering back to the wall, terrified.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, cowering back. “You haven’t been home in ages and now you’re suddenly up here… banging your head on the wall.”

He rubs his forehead where a lump is forming. “I can’t do this anymore,” he states in an emotionless tone.

“Do what?” I’m worried that I might already know what the answer is; worried that he’s going back to that place where he tried to take his own life.

His arms drop to his sides. “I couldn’t keep living like this. Being here, in this place, when there’s so much stuff going on… so much pain.” He clutches at his chest like his heart is aching.

Is he talking about the Reapers? “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” I say as he backs up to the wall again like a skittish cat. I’m concerned he’s lost his mind.

His terror shifts to rage. “I’m talking about the fucking dead,” he snaps, slamming his fist against the wall, causing the canvas beside him to fall over. “Always walking around and haunting me like a damn plague. I can’t get rid of them.” He tugs his fingers through his hair and yanks on the roots as his head falls forward. “I couldn’t get rid of Alyssa. She was everywhere. Always haunting me and reminding me of what I did.”

“Are you saying…” I’m at a loss for words. He can see the dead? Is Ian a Grim Angel? How am I supposed to ask him this, though? Without even thinking, I say, “Can you see the dead?” Well, I guess there’s no beating around the bush.

“Yes,” he whispers, his eyes bulging as he stares at me, but he’s not looking at me, he’s looking through me. “They won’t leave me alone.”

I inch towards him, the glow of the flame dancing across the walls. “Have you… have you ever heard of a Grim Angel?”

He shakes his head, eyes still wide, and then he charges at me. I start to jump back, but there’s not enough time and Ian ends up colliding with me. We fall to the ground and I smack my head on the floor. His hands immediately wrap around my neck and he starts to strangle me as I kick and hit at him, trying to get him off me, however he has inhuman strength and my efforts are useless.

My oxygen flow starts to dwindle as I stare up at him, his eyes smoldering with blinding rage, letting me know he’s possessed. It’s actually sort of reassuring when I think about it. At least when he kills me, it won’t really be him. It’s a fucked up thought process, but I hold onto it with everything I have as my ears start to ring and I see spots. As I’m about to take my last breath, he’s suddenly thrown off me and someone else appears above me.

Her bubblegum pink hair looks red in the darkness around us and her eyes are filled with nothing except loathing and hatred as she stares down at me with her glossy lips pursed.

“You know the rules,” she says, looking at me, but speaking to Ian as he gets to his feet.

He inches back to me and looks down at me with a blank expression on his face. “Sorry, I got a little carried away.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, you can’t. We’re not supposed to kill her; if she hasn’t gave in yet. It’s breaking the rules.” She muses over something and then crouches down beside me, touching her fingers to my neck. “Although, this is a good look for her.”

I wince from her touch and then find enough energy to slap her hand off me. “Don’t touch me.” My voice sounds more like a croak as my throat aches.

She laughs snidely. “Let’s get one thing straight, Emmy. You don’t give the orders around here.”

I place my hand on my neck in a protective gesture. “Then who does?”

She angles her head to the side, strands of her hair falling over her eyes. “I think you already know the answer to that question.”

“Well, I used to think it was Garrick,” I say, digging my heels into the floor and attempting to slide away from her, however she slams her hand down on my knee with a lot of force.

“Don’t ever mention that name again,” she hisses, pushing down on my leg. The light of the flame reflects in her eyes, giving her face a haunted look. “I’ve moved up in the world now. No more dating the losers down at the bottom of the totem pole.”

I resist an eye roll, wondering if this is really her talking or whoever’s possessing her because, as sad as it is, it could be either way. “So who is it now?”

Her lips curl to a malicious grin. “The one that has the power to take over an entire town.”

A deafening exhale escapes my lips. “That guy at the bowling alley you were making out with? Seriously, you think that dumbass has the power to do that?” I pretend to be more confident than I am.

She snorts a laugh. “Oh, that’s a good one.” She straightens her legs and stands up, rearranging her skirt into place. “He’s nothing but another pawn in all of this… another Anamotti that will probably lose his life in order for the leader to get what he wants.”

“You’re dating Alton?” I’m shocked as I push up on my elbows and watch her as she strolls back to the corner of the room towards the window, her high heels clicking against the floor. When she doesn’t answer, I shake my head. “You know he’s pure evil, right? That he’s killed girls our age? People we went to school with and that he likes doing it—thrives on it.”

She peers out the window into the night covering the land, her silence unsettling. “He needs a lot of power.” She taps her fingers on the glass. “At first I wasn’t okay with the killings, considering he’s needed to do so many lately, but then he explained it all to me and I understand. In order for him to exist in this world and be strong, he needs to kill and take their souls… keep them inside him until he builds up his strength.”

“Keep them inside him?” I question, sitting up. “What the hell does that mean?

“She turns her head towards me, her eyes as cold as the ice glazing the window. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. You talk to the dead—he knows that they’ve been asking you for your help to free their souls.”

I think of the dead girl that walked into the classroom and how she begged me to help her. “And can I do that?” I ask, thinking about what I read in the book about freeing innocent souls. “Because if I can, I could help you Raven—free you.”

“I’m not trapped. In fact I am free.” She lets out a high-pitched laugh, throwing her head back. “And don’t ask me questions, Em. Everyone knows that the best evil villains never give their brilliant plans away.”

“Brilliant?” I question. “Or just plain evil?”

She rolls her eyes as she struts towards me, the floorboards creaking below her feet. “You know, you have a lot of guts for someone who’s part of a dying breed.” She stops just short of me and flips her hair off her shoulder. “We’ve cleared out so many Grim Angels in just a few short weeks, and the less there are, the weaker the remaining become.” She reaches over to the nearest canvas and tugs off the sheet. “They’re giving in so easily. In only a few more days, they’ll belong to the Reapers.”

The painting she’s uncovered is the one of her lying on the ground with an hourglass and an X; the one that I thought was gone.

“Where did that come from?” I whisper. “I thought it was gone.”

She smiles as she examines the painting of herself. “Oh, I took it away for a while after you discovered it.” She turns to me with her hands on her hips. “Your mind’s so easily bent. And the funny thing is that it doesn’t even matter. The painting was simply a painting, showing what I really am and giving you a hint to what your brother was, only you were too stupid to figure it out.” She walks up to Ian and pats him on the head. “And we painted it together, although he felt a little guilty for painting someone else besides his dead girlfriend.”

I look over at Ian, who’s staring at the ceiling, looking as though he saw a ghost. “What did you do to him?”

“Don’t be stupid. I didn’t do anything to him.” She ambles around him, tracing her finger along his shoulder and neck. “He gave in way too easily; he was almost relieved to be getting rid of the guilt inside him.”

I’m not sure what she means by giving in. Giving into possession? Or insanity? “Is he a Grim Angel?”

Her hand wanders down the front of him to his chest as she peers over her shoulder at me with a smirk. “What do you think?”

I look at my brother who is completely out of it—so far gone—before this he was just a pothead who struggled with losing his girlfriend. “I think he’s possessed.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. He was simply really good at keeping things hidden, like other people in your family.” She thrums her finger against Ian’s chest. “You know, you’re the most unfortunate family I’ve ever come across. Your blood is so interwoven with Angels and Reapers. Your father. Your brother. So many more.” She taps her finger on her lip. “I’m fairly certain you’re going to end up being the last Grim Angel standing.” She glances over at Ian. “I would have said this one a few years ago, but then his girlfriend OD’d and that made him go a little off the deep end.”

“But she was discovered in a lake.” I’m flabbergasted, waiting for Ian to chime in, but he just stands there, staring at the damn ceiling.

Her grin broadens. “Guilt can be a real bitch, especially when you do something like help your friends throw a body into the lake because they don’t want to be held responsible for a death.”

I swallow hard, shaking my head in denial. “You’re lying. They wouldn’t throw her in a lake simply because she OD’d.”

“Am I?” she asks with amusement. “Well, if that’s the case, then why don’t you ask Ian what really happened?”

“Ian, tell me she’s lying. Please.” As I look to Ian for an explanation, tears start to fall from his eyes as he stares at the wall behind me. I’m not sure what that means; whether it’s true or not. It’s horrifying to think about, though; that my brother could be a part of that. I can’t go there yet—believe something so horrific when there’s no proof—especially when Raven’s possessed by a man who’s probably the leader of everything evil.

Raven walks around to the side of Ian and slips her fingers through his. “Now look what you’ve done.” She reaches up and wipes away some of his tears, yet they continue to stream down his face. “You’ve upset him.”

“No, you have,” I say, starting to get to my feet, but as quick as lightning, she reaches back and shoves the large canvas forward, causing it to land on my legs. Pain spreads through my muscles as the weight of the painting pins me to the ground. I manage to kick it off and start to get to my feet once more, however then I fly back to the ground by an unseen force, hitting my head again, this time a lot harder.

I hear Raven laugh as the shadows around the attic start to move. “You know, it’s really beneficial to be controlled by one of the most powerful Anamotti that exists because it gives me more strength.”

I grip at my head as shadows swoop and dive at me, no longer attached to the wall. I think I might have a concussion because I can’t see very clearly, but I can make out enough to notice that, while most of the shadows are diving towards me, one in particular is diving towards Raven. She seems to be bothered by it, too, waving her hands around and squealing while Ian just stands there helplessly.

“Get away from me, you moron!” she cries, running around as it swoops at her head like a bird. “Get her, not me!”

The shadow continues to swarm around her repetitively, whooshing at her hair, diving down and circling around her. I wonder if it’s my stalker shadow and why it seems like it’s trying to help me. “Get away from me!” she cries. “And go find the book!”

The book. Shit. Is that why they’re here? I try to roll over to crawl out of the room, but they keep coming at me, strangling me with their chill every time they touch me. Through the madness of it, I swear I hear the faintest whisper coming from it. A voice that I recognize. “Ember, stay put.” When my dad’s voice surrounds me, I swear to God time stops.

I’m not sure if I’m losing it, but I still try to stay put like he said. Then the rest of the shadows start to swoop for me, smacking against my body; their chill seeping into my bones and drowning out my emotion. I struggle to get to my feet to help but I fall right back down the moment I get my feet underneath me. Again, I hit my head, and the whole room looks like a shadow while the world spins beneath me. I can’t do anything about it, though, as shadows fly around me. With every brush against me, they feel deathly cold, surrounding me in their icy menace.

I’m not sure what their purpose is, yet the more they move, the more hollow I feel. I can’t help thinking of the shadow realm. I wonder if this is what it is. If these are Reapers and they’re here to get me. But why? And why did I hear my dad’s voice coming from the shadow attacking Raven.

I search the crowd of shadows, looking for which one it was, however they’ve all blended together, orbiting my head like birds. I’m confused about what the point is, and my confusion only grows when I hear Cameron’s voice rise above the madness.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my least favorite person,” he says with a cocky grin.

“And if it isn’t the Reaper that no one wants around,” Raven retorts, and the swooping of the shadows stops. “You know, your obsession with her is ridiculous, especially when she’s in love with the Angel.”

“She’s not in love with the Angel,” Cameron says venomously. “Love requires knowing everything about the other person, flaws and all, and loving them despite them.” His footsteps grow louder as he moves up beside me. “And trust me, Asher hasn’t told her any of his flaws.” It gets quiet, and seconds later, I feel his arm slip underneath me. He helps me up as I blink until my vision gets into focus, adjusting to the darkness of the room. “Are you okay?” he whispers in my ear with genuine sincerity.

“I’m fine,” I say, slipping out of his hold, confused why he’s being nice.

“Well, she definitely doesn’t love you,” Raven says snidely with her arms folded. “So I guess your rebellion is turning out to be for a lost cause.”

“My rebellion isn’t only because of her,” Cameron states, moving up beside me and into my line of vision. He’s wearing his floor length cape, but the hood isn’t pulled over his head, which leaves his facial features and blonde hair visible. “And need I remind you that, despite your possession, you’re still human and vulnerable to death? So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk out of here before things get really ugly.”

Raven glares at him, but there’s a flicker of fear in her eyes. “Fine.” She snaps her fingers as she starts for the door. “Ian, let’s go. We’re done here.”

I snag the sleeve of Ian’s shirt as he starts to walk towards her. “No, he’s staying here.”

“Oh, you think so?” She glances from Ian to me then to Cameron. “Since you’re so keen on her, can you please explain to her that Ian can’t stay here, not when he’s under the possession of Alton—not after he’s given in to his Reaper blood?”

Cameron gives her a bored look. “Take the boy. Like I care.”

“Cameron, I can’t just let him go with her. She’s evil,” I hiss, knowing full well that there’s no reasoning with him. That he’s bad. Evil. A Reaper. At the same time, though, he’s here and seems to be protecting me at the moment, so I have to at least try.

Cameron turns his head towards me and I startle back at the sight of his glowing eyes. “Princess, you need to let him go, otherwise you’re going to have a whole swarm of Anamotti here to torture you until you do.”

I refuse to let go of his shirt, but as Ian steps forward, the fabric slips from my fingertips. When he then goes to leave with Raven, I start to chase after him, but Cameron’s arms enfold around me and he pulls me back. I have no other choice but to let him walk out of the attic and with her.

We stand in silence as they leave, listening to the sounds of their footsteps growing fainter until the sound disappears all together, and moments later the front door slams shut. Then all I can hear is my breathing and the sound of the wind outside.

“She said he’s a Grim Angel,” I whisper, staring at the doorway, tears blurring my vision.

“Was a Grim Angel,” Cameron says with very little sympathy. “But he gave in, and now they own him.”

“You’re lying,” I utter, shaking my head in denial while hot tears spill down my cheeks. “She’s lying.”

“Not this time,” he replies and then his hand touches the small of my back. I flinch at first, but then I realize that he’s trying to comfort me, and for a moment, I take up the offer, letting him touch me because right now there’s no one else.

Eventually I stop crying and pull myself together then step to the side and out of his touch. “So he’s a Reaper now?” I ask, glancing at Cameron, only to find that he’s staring at me with perplexity and curiosity.

“For now,” he answers, continuing to ogle me with fascination. “But it could all change, depending on the choice the last Grim Angel makes.”

“You mean, he could be freed if the last Grim Angel chooses the side of good?” I ask, hopefully.

“No, but he could become an Angel if they choose the good.” He moves towards me, cocking his head to the side, refusing to stop looking at me like I’m a curious little creature. “Your tears are so fascinating.” He extends his arm towards me and brushes his fingers across my cheek. “So much emotion behind them.”

I start to recoil at the feel of his cold fingers. “Cameron, please don’t touch me.”

He disregards my request, his fingers moving with me as I back up. He wipes a few tears away before he starts to lean in. At first I think he’s going to kiss me and my body goes as rigid as the floorboards, but then he grazes his lips across my cheek where a tear is rolling down my skin. My initial reaction is to run from him, but the magnetic feeling I felt when we went to the lake and he dove in to get my necklace, resurfaces. I feel a pull towards him, and even though I’m guessing he’s manipulating me, I stand frozen in place as he kisses tear after tear, erasing each one. Once my face is dry, he moves away with a blasé demeanor.

“You might want to consider staying somewhere else, especially since they seem to want that book you’re harboring in your trunk,” he says and then strolls towards the door, like nothing happened between us.

I follow him out into the hallway. “Those shadows that were here… what are they?”

He pauses, slowly turning around to face me. “You saw those?”

I nod. “Um, yeah. They were everywhere.”

He stares blankly at me and then suddenly he’s smirking. “Well, I guess your Reaper blood might be stronger than I thought, if you can see the shadow realm.” Then he turns and walks away, calling over his shoulder, “Until next time, princess.”

I want to chase him down and confront him, demand that he take back what he said. However, the painful truth starts to bleed inside me as I recount the last few days. How I’ve killed. How I found out my brother gave into his Reaper’s blood. How I drank Cameron’s life.

Maybe Cameron is right.

Perhaps I’m veering towards evil.

Chapter 9

My head and body ache from the beating I just took. Plus, my back has started to burn again along with my eyes. I have no idea why, but after I take some pain killers, I go up to my room and make a face as I realize that while I was being attacked, something or someone came into my room and trashed it, probably looking for the book. Thankfully, they didn’t find it and it’s still tucked away in the bottom of the trunk.

It’s past two o’clock in the morning, yet I don’t feel tired at all. In fact, I’m wired with thoughts of Reapers and Angels and my family racing through my mind. My brother’s on their side, my mom is missing, and all I have left is a very annoying Reaper who insists the only reason he’s tormenting me is because he wants me.

Plus, there’s my dad. I know I heard his voice amongst the shadows, but I can’t be certain it was actually my dad, especially if the shadows were Reapers. It might have been their way to get at me… but then why was the shadow diving at Raven’s head?

My head starts to throb the more I think about it. I need some rest. I close my eyes, and after a little while, I manage to drift off into dreamland. The next thing I know, someone’s stroking my cheek, and I’m yanked out of my sleep and back to reality.

I stiffen from the touch, not just because it frightens me, but because, for the briefest moment, it becomes welcoming. “Cameron, go away,” I mumble. “Unless you’re going to tell me something that can give me any insight to what the hell’s actually going on.”

The fingers stroking my cheek pause and the person’s muscles ravel before they remove their hand. “It’s not Cameron.”

Asher’s voice engulfs my body and kisses every inch of my skin, awakening me from a deep, depressing slumber I’ve been sinking into over the last few weeks. I instantly feel more awake, alive, lighter. Freer. Not so dark and twisted inside. Reapers don’t consume my mind. The dark thoughts are gone.

For a brief moment, everything feels right.

My eyelids lift open and I gradually sit up, my head retaliating with blinding pain. I blink through it and then my lips part in disbelief at the sight of him before me, sitting on the edge of my bed beside me while appearing exhausted; his shoulders slackened and his plaid shirt and jeans wrinkled. His head is tipped down, his eyes locked on the floor, and there are wisps of his inky black hair hanging in his eyes. He looks heartbreakingly sad and in pain. I recollect his angel painting I saw in the art classroom the first time we kissed. He looks just like it at the moment, and it breaks my heart.

I start to say something to him, but his presence has rendered me speechless, my voice won’t leave my lips. So instead, I’m left breathing deafeningly until, finally, he tilts his head and looks at me. When our eyes lock, anguish, agony, longing and want overpower me. He starts to reach for me, his fingers seeking my cheek, and I reach for him, but then he decides against touching me and pulls away, staring down at his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters with his brows knit.

I fold my arms over my chest, curling into myself, wondering what’s wrong with him. Why he pulled away. “For what?”

He peers up at me, his slate eyes black against the inadequate lighting of the lamp. “For leaving you.”

“Asher, it’s not your fault,” I insist, taking in the sight of his beautiful eyes, his eyebrow piercing, his dark red lips that taste divine, his long fingers that can do wonderful things to me. I take in all of him because I can. Because he’s here. With me. God, I’ve missed him. I want him to be real, but I have to question whether he’s real or not because, at the moment, everything seems like it could be the Anamotti tricking me. Or Cameron.

“Is it really you?” I ask, watching his reaction closely. “Or is Cameron messing with my mind? Because it’s not funny if that’s what this is.”

Anger smolders in his eyes. “Cameron. I thought he was gone?”

I slowly shake my head, astonished by his anger. “He was, but he came back the other night… although I think he’s been haunting my thoughts for longer than that.”

His fists clench on his lap and his arms tremble with his rage as his arm muscles ripple. “I should have known. He has a knack for never giving up. For always being around and trying to get what he wants, no matter what it takes.” He huffs exasperatedly then his expression vaguely softens as he reaches for me again. He cups my cheek, his warmth spilling through me and heating the chill I didn’t know had been residing inside me until now. “I promise it’s me and not him.” He releases an unsteady exhale as his thumb caresses my skin. “God, I forgot how beautiful you are. I’ve missed you so much.”

It’s him. It has to be. There’s no way Cameron or even one of the Anamotti could fake the passion in his voice or the honesty in his eyes. I leap from the bed and onto his lap, unable to control the amount of emotion bursting inside me as I throw my arms around his neck. I feel the silence of his touch as I bury my face against his solid chest and his arms wrap around me tightly, embracing me, pulling me closer to him. His chest crashes against my cheek with every breath he takes and his pulse is hammering in his chest.

“What’s wrong? Why is your heart racing?” I start to pull away to look at him, but he only constricts his hold.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He kisses my forehead and nuzzles his face into my hair, taking ragged breaths. “Not now anyway.”

I let him devour my cheeks and forehead with kisses, afraid to move and break the silent connection between us. Plus, he seems to be struggling with his emotions, as though he’s overwhelmed by them, unable to keep what he’s feeling trapped inside. I’m falling to that place, too; wanting to cry over the sheer fact that he’s here and I’m no longer entirely surrounded by evil. I restrain the tears, however, because I know they’ll make me think about how I cried just hours ago when Cameron wiped and kissed them away from me. Still, the thought seeps in and I feel a pang in my gut.

Guilt

A plague

It eats away

At my rotting insides

The more I fight

The more it feasts

I choke back my emotions, glad Asher doesn’t notice, glad he’s here holding onto me and no one else. Eventually his arms loosen around me, and he leans back to look me in the eyes, resting his hands on my waist. “Sorry, I got a little emotional there for a moment.”

“That’s okay. I’ve missed your touch,” I tell him, my voice shaky. “Even though I love that you’re here and happy to see me, I’m wondering how you’re here. I thought you had to go away… that you broke too many rules and were being punished.”

“I was being punished.” He places a hand on my cheek again and I melt into his touch, letting his warmth consume me; the contact fills all the voids that formed over the last few weeks. “But protecting you is more important than anything else.”

“Protect me from what? Cameron?” I ask with a frown. “Or the Anamotti?”

“You’ve said Cameron’s name a lot in the last few minutes.” The anger in his eyes resurfaces. “Has he been around a lot?”

I sigh and tell him the whole story, hating to admit what happened; that I was weak enough to mess up and allow Cameron to have access into my head. With each detail I give him, I feel more disappointed in myself, yet I feel a weight lifting from my shoulders. Asher is here to talk to, and even though I can’t tell if I’m upsetting him, I love that he’s here. That I’m not alone in this madness. That I have someone here who I can confide in, touch, and kiss. Someone who doesn’t drive me crazy and who doesn’t constantly remind me of death.

When I finish explaining to him what’s happened over the last few weeks, Asher stares at me for a lengthy amount of time, his face contorted with pain and confusion. I think he’s going to yell at me or chew me out. Get angry about everything I’ve done since he left; how much I’ve screwed up.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “For everything I’ve done while you’re gone. For messing up so badly.”

He shakes his head, the pain subsiding. “Ember, I’m not mad at you.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and turns forward in the bed, his jaw set tight. “If anything, I’m angry with Cameron.” He contemplates something before he looks at me again. “After you took some of his life…” It’s difficult for him to speak, so he reaches for me, gripping my sides securely. Then his hands stray to my hips and his fingers jab down into my skin, firm but not rough, and my skin blissfully scorches from his touch. “Did something happen to you?” he asks. “When you took some of Cameron’s life?”

The lines on my skin start to itch so I pull off one of my gloves, showing him. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have done it, but I thought I had to in order to save the guy I stabbed. Although, honestly, I’m surprised Cameron has any life in him. I thought maybe he didn’t.”

“He doesn’t.” Asher removes one of his hands from my hips and winces as he traces the vine-like lines on my arm. “Which is why these lines appeared. Instead of feeding yourself life, you were taking life in the form of death. If you would have gone for too long… done it too much…” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard. “You would have drained all the angel blood out of you.”

“What?” I choke, panicking, thinking about my brother and the numbness, the emptiness he’s carrying. “Then I’d just be a Reaper?”

He withdraws his hand from the lines and then his arm wraps around my side, pulling me closer to him on the bed. “Life is the Angel side of you and Reaper is death within you. You were filling your body with death, and therefore, eliminating the Angel blood inside you. That’s why he was able to talk to you through your thoughts and completely take over your body when he hasn’t been able to before. Yes, he’s been able to render you helpless, but that was through the faint connection you have to the Reapers.” Our gazes fasten. “But by filling your body with more death—his death—it gave him total control.”

“Oh, my God.” The last thing I want is to turn into death; into a Reaper. Or do you? My inner voice belongs to me this time and it sends a chill down my back as I briefly welcome the idea of walking around in a cloak, taking souls, devouring innocent lives. It’s a thought that has been plaguing me for days and only seems to be amplifying with time. I could try to keep blaming it on Cameron, but deep down, I know part of it belongs to me and I can’t help wondering if I’m getting close to giving in to the dark side.

I blink the disturbing thought from my head and focus on Asher; his beautiful face and eyes that I could write about for hours. “So if I feed off a Reaper’s life for too long, then I’ll become one? Forever. I won’t be a Grim Angel anymore?” Jesus, I’ve already done it twice. How much of an effect has it had on me already?

He nods, releasing me, and then brings his leg up on the bed between us, his foot wiggling restlessly. “Yes, if you drink too much and do it too many times then it’d eventually drained of all your Angel’s blood, then Cameron would get exactly what he wants. He’d have the Reaper version of you.”

“God, I’m so stupid… for a brief second, I thought he was trying to help me,” I mutter, disgusted with myself for touching him like that, for talking to him, for letting him kiss my tears away, for thinking he was trying to help me. “He pretended like he knew stuff about my dad. God, what was I thinking giving into him like that, letting him convince me to take his life—death—like that?”

“You’re not stupid,” he insists, taking my hand in his and tangling our fingers. “Despite your Angel and Reaper blood, you’re still a human who feels things and Cameron knew that threatening you with the life of that guy would break you down emotionally.” He brings my hand to his mouth and grazes his lips across them. “None of this is your fault.”

“And what about the second time?” I disagree with him, ashamed of what I’ve done. “He didn’t threaten me with anything.”

“You can’t blame yourself for the fact that he took over your body and stuff happened,” Asher says with an underlying hint of pain in his voice. He’s trying to shrug this off, although I can tell it’s sort of bothering him.

“Still, I never should have trusted him to begin with,” I tell him. “And let him get my hopes up that he’d help me find out about my dad.” I shake my head at myself, wondering if that was a lie, too. If Cameron really doesn’t know a damn thing about my dad; if he ever did, even back when he told me my dad was going to die. “I let him in and I shouldn’t have, especially when so much has been going on in the town. I should have been more careful. Protected myself more instead of throwing myself into his will and letting him walk me into an Anamotti pit.”

“It’s not your fault, and besides…” Asher deeply considers something, distractedly running his pierced tongue along his teeth, which is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. “Do you remember that story I told you? The one about the tattoo on my side?”

“Sort of.” Unable to help myself, I slip my free hand up the front of his shirt and trace my fingers along the cursive font, feeling him shudder beneath my touch. “It is about the last Grim Angel standing and how she will have to make a choice between good and evil.”

He stares down at my hand beneath his shirt with confliction as he recites the story tattooed beneath where my hand rests. “Blackness caped the land and possessed the bodies of the mortals. Fire erupted over the fields and famine possessed the oceans. The wrath of Death was winning and the Angels of Death suffered. It was the end, but a single sacrifice reversed it all. One beautiful Grim Angel with death in her blood and on her shoulders connected them all, and with a single choice, she would save the world. But the fight would not be easy. Death would play with her mind and her life. Angels would do everything they could to protect her. She would struggle with right and wrong and mess up along the way, but in the end, she would have to make the right choice; otherwise, Death would win then humans and Angels would endure an eternity of suffering.” When he glances up at me, the amount of emotion his eyes carry causes me to gasp. “Sometimes you’ll mess up, but I know that, in the end, you’ll do the right thing.”

“I thought the story was about the last Grim Angel standing?”

“It is.”

“But then, you’re saying I’m the last Grim Angel standing?”

“No, I’m saying I believe you’re going to be the last Grim Angel standing.”

“Why?” I croak, my voice faint and weak as I remove my hand from beneath his shirt and rest it on my lap.

He swallows hard. “For a lot of reasons, one being that you were born in Hollows Grove, along with your entire family, at least as far back as I can trace. You’re roots started here.”

“But a lot of Grim Angels were… because this is where it all started, right?” I point out. “My dad was one of them and my brother, so how do you know for sure that I’ll be the last one when there could be a ton more here.”

He hesitates, considering what I said. “Do you remember what Alton told you about the battle? How it started here? And how the beginning of Grim Angels started here?”

“Did I mention that Alton said that to me?” I ask, perplexed. “I don’t remember mentioning that to you.”

He deliberately shakes his head. “You didn’t.”

My confusion magnifies. “Then how do you know he told me about the battle?”

“Because…” He seems nervous, chewing on his lip. “I was there and I could also see it in his eyes when he was talking to you that he thinks you’re going to be the last Grim Angel standing—could see how deep your Grim Angel bloodlines go—which is why they’re centering so much energy on you.”

“Yeah, but… Wait a minute…” I trail off, starting to retreat away from him as I back up on the bed, preparing to jump up and run. “You say you were there, but the only thing I saw was the Anamotti.”

His arms snap out and he grasps onto my wrists, forcing me to sit back down. “Please, listen to me before you try to bolt,” he says, a silent plea in his tone. I debate what to do, but ultimately let him pull me back down to the bed. He lets out a relieved breath the moment I sink down beside him and his hold on me loosens, but his hands remain on my wrists. “I was there at the bowling alley, trying to help you,” he starts to explain. “I’ve actually been watching you since I left, despite the fact that I was banned against doing so.” He looks a little guilty as his fingers leave my wrists and he turns his back to me. “I couldn’t help it,” he says passionately. “Not knowing where you were—or what was happening to you—it was driving me crazy.” He shakes his head at himself. “And then I saw you in the bowling alley with the Anamotti. And Alton. I couldn’t just stand by and watch them set you up for murder, to have you go to jail, or let them push your sanity even further.” He rotates back around and scoots towards me, passion pouring off him as his gaze devours me. I can’t help but think about when I read that Angels of Death are passionate in battle. “I had to stop them. I couldn’t let them frame you with Raven’s murder and all the other murders that have happened.”

“That’s what they were doing? They were going to kill Raven and frame me for it?” Goddammit, Cameron. “Wait, did Cameron know about this?”

“I have no idea what Cameron knows or what his brilliant plan was by bringing you there, but he’s proved once again what side he’s on,” he says, his low tone nearing a growl as he turns back around to face me.

I don’t entirely agree with him. Going to the bowling alley helped me discover that the mayor is also the leader of the Anamotti, however now is not the time to point that out. “You act like he could be on a different side than the Reapers,” I say.

“No, but I’d like to believe that despite his Reaper blood, he still has a bit of emotion left in him, enough that he wouldn’t sacrifice your safety.”

“Why would he have emotion in him at all when he’s death?” I pause, recollecting the few times Cameron and Asher have crossed paths. “You know, you two have acted like you’ve known each other from the beginning.”

“We’ve known each other for far too long,” he says dryly, staring down at the floor.

“How so?” I ask. “I mean, how can Reapers and Angels know each other when they work for opposing sides?”

“We’re not necessarily on opposing sides,” he mutters and then sighs, closing his eyes. “And after being around for centuries, it’s hard not to get acquainted with your enemies.”

My head starts to pound at something he’s said, something that scares the shit out of me. I massage my temples with my fingertips, forcing air in and out of my lungs. “Wait, how old are you?”

It takes him a moment to answer, and when he does speak again, his voice is barely audible. “I’ve been around long enough to see five centuries pass by.”

“Jesus,” I murmur, lowering my hands. “You were alive when Edgar Allan Poe was.” There’s brief silence and then suddenly Asher snorts a laugh. I look up at him, stunned by his humor. “What’s so funny?” I ask.

Wrinkles crinkle around his eyes as he tries to stop laughing, his mouth concealed by his hand. “I’m sorry, but only you would make that first observation.” His laughter dies down a little.

I press my lips together. “This isn’t funny,” I say, but laughter tickles the back of my throat. Call it insanity, but I do find it amusing. “I mean, I just found out you’re really old.”

He starts laughing even harder and eventually my laughter slips through and I join him. Nothing we’ve been talking about is humorous, yet honestly, I don’t want it to stop. Call it madness. Call it too much darkness and death in my life. Call it whatever you want, but it’s been a long time since I’ve laughed, and if I had my way, I’d keep doing it forever.

“I’m sorry,” he says after our laughter settles down. “It’s just that I can’t help but think about the first time I met you and how I could see in your eyes that you have an obsession with Edgar Allan Poe.”

I wipe the tears of laughter from my eyes with the bottom of my shirt. “I’m not obsessed,” I insist, “I just admire his poetry.”

He looks over at the picture of Poe on my wall and elevates his eyebrows in speculation. “Oh, really? Because I completely disagree.”

I stifle a smile, playfully pinching him on the arm. “Quit distracting me from the fact that you’re so old. Like creepy old.”

He redirects his focus on me and observes me momentarily before he scoots close enough that our knees touch and his heat spirals through my body. My stomach flutters with nerves and want. “I might be old in numbers, but not in the way I look,” he says, leaning in, wetting his lips with his tongue.

I catch the silver glint of his tongue ring and my body reacts inappropriately; shivers and tingles dancing up and down my thighs. I squeeze my legs together as I scan over his lean arms, his sturdy chest, and his near ageless eyes. “Yeah, I know, but still…” I alter my weight as I sigh, bending inward to get closer to him. “It’s just a little startling, but I guess I should have known.”

He quickly shakes his head. “No, you shouldn’t have, especially when no one can, or will, give you the full truth.”

I frown. “Like you?”

He offers me an apologetic look, but doesn’t say anything as he gazes off into empty space. I wonder what he’s thinking about. What he’s lied about. I wonder how many things between us are real and how many are fake.

“You never did tell me how you were watching me,” I say quietly. “I never saw you anywhere. Well, except for feathers. I’ve been seeing a lot of feathers lately.”

The sadness in his expression deepens as he absentmindedly reaches around and grazes his fingers across the back of his plaid shirt. “I was in the shadows,” he whispers without looking at me.

Shadows. I remember reading about those in the book that was stolen, but… “You were in the shadow realm?” Please say it’s not true.

His attention whips to me. “Where did you learn about the shadow realm?”

“From a book.” I glance at the antique chest where the book Elliot gave me is. “A book that a… I think a shadow stole from me a couple of weeks ago.”

“A shadow was in here?” He swiftly scans the room, his muscles going rigid as if he senses something dangerous. “In your room?”

“Yeah, it took my book about Grim Angels, the one Raven gave to me around Halloween and the only one that’s ever given me any useful information,” I say and then open my mouth to tell him that I have it again, but I stop myself, not ready to tell him yet until he tells me why he was in the shadow realm. Or better yet, how?

“Someone’s been watching you,” he mutters then abruptly rises to his feet and starts to pace in front of the bed, mumbling incoherently under his breath.

I watch him pace back and forth as my brain slowly processes what he’s just told me. “You said you were in the shadow realm.” I slide to the edge of the bed and lower my feet over the edge to the floor. “But from what I understand, the shadow realm is for Reapers.”

He stops in the center of my room, his eyes fixed on the floor. “It is.” His voice trembles as he battles to control his emotions.

“Oh, my God,” I breathe, gripping onto the edge of the bed. “Cameron was telling the truth. Your father’s a Reaper.” Shit. I need to run. Get out of here, away from him as fast as I can.

The need to run only amplifies when he doesn’t deny my accusations, looking miserable and embarrassed amongst other things. I’m not sure what to do. I probably wouldn’t get very far if I ran and he tried to chase me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I dare to ask. How hard would it be to get to the door?

“For a lot of reasons,” he says, carrying my gaze but with nervousness. “And even if I wanted to tell you, I couldn’t. I wasn’t even supposed to get this involved with you to begin with.”

“How is it even possible?” I ask, stunned beyond comprehension. “How can your father be a Reaper, yet you’re an angel… or are you a Grim Angel?” My eyes widen. “Oh, my God, are you a Reaper?”

He promptly shakes his head and then slides to the floor on his knees, kneeling in front of me. He then places his hands on top of my thighs, there’s a slight tremble in his fingers. “Ember, please relax. I’m just an ordinary Angel of Death, just like I told you I was. You’ve even seen my wings.” He’s panicking, looking so raw and emotional right now that, if I didn’t know any better, I’d guess he was human. If I wasn’t worried he was working with the Reapers, I’d have paused the moment and tried to capture it with words—write them on the wall—so this moment would be recorded forever.

I move my legs out from under his hands, pull my knees to my chest, and hug my arms around them. “I may have seen your wings, but it doesn’t mean I believe that they were real… nothing seems real anymore. Everybody—you, the Reapers, the Anamotti, Cameron—are all throwing stuff at me, and I can barely sort through it all.” I shut my eyes and inhale, sucking back the tears stinging at them. “And you keep telling me you can’t tell me things because it’s against the rules, yet you’ve told me enough that it seems that, if there were really rules—or if you were telling the truth—you’d be in trouble.”

Silence overlaps the sound of my breathing while my heart pounds in my chest. Asher was the only person I’d ever felt comfortable around. I let him feel every inch of me. Kiss me. I gave him my virginity. It feels like my heart’s breaking right now. I think I might have thought I loved him once, but maybe Cameron was right. How could I love him when I didn’t know his flaws; when I barely knew him? I was simply naïve.

“I’ll tell you everything I know,” he says softly. I feel him shift closer to me. “But I want to hold you while I do.”

When I open my eyes and meet his gaze, his pupils are so massive only a ring of silver remains in his eyes. “I’m not sure I can let you do that. I… You lied to me, or at least omitted the truth. I trusted you, but now I’m not so sure I can.”

“I know I lied. I messed up.” He looks remorseful as he climbs on the bed beside me, keeping enough distance that I don’t feel threatened, although he’s still close enough that I nearly drown in his body heat. “And I hated not telling you things, but trust me when I say I couldn’t tell you at the time.”

“But now you can?” I ask, warily. “What’s changed?”

Sadness floods his eyes again. “Because things are different now.”

“What’s so different now than it was a few weeks ago in the cemetery when you told me I had to figure out stuff on my own?”

He diffidently extends his arm towards me, afraid I’ll bolt if he moves too fast. And I want to bolt, but I can’t bring myself to. So I let him put his arm around me and lure me onto his lap. Then I rotate my body so I’m facing him and then slide a leg over him to straddle his lap.

He never takes his eyes off me as I get situated and then hook my arms around the back of his neck to hold onto something because it feels like whatever he tells me next might knock me down.

“I missed touching you,” I divulge truthfully, wanting just one moment to enjoy this moment; one beat of my heart, one breath. Before everything breaks apart because I know it’s going to.

The corners of his lips quirk to a sad smile. “I missed touching you, too.”

When he doesn’t begin explaining things right away, I say, “Please tell me you’re not a Reaper before I go mad.”

His arms circle my waist and he presses on my lower back, pushing me closer to him until the front of our bodies are perfectly aligned. “I’m not a Reaper. I promise. But I was faced with a choice once that had to do with my Reaper blood,” he explains. “I had to decide whether I wanted to be part of the good or the evil.” He slants his head forward and I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead he rests his forehead against mine. Then he shuts his eyes and breathes in deeply.

“My mother was an Angel of Death and my father was a Reaper. The love between the two breeds is obviously forbidden, so they hid it, but eventually my mother found out she was pregnant with me. After I was born, she hid me for as long as she could, but eventually she was discovered; I was discovered. A lot of the Angels wanted to send me down with the Reapers to live in their realm. The Angels feared what I’d turn into—that I’d become death and start stealing souls—but Michael gave me a choice of who I wanted to be, what I wanted to be.”

“And you chose the side of the good,” I say, sketching my finger up and down his neck.

“I did, but it wasn’t without a price.” His eyelids lift and he puts a sliver of space between us as he reclines and looks me in the eyes. “I’ve pretty much been a prisoner amongst the Angels ever since I chose to be one,” he says. “An outcast. And to constantly prove that I won’t surrender to the Reaper side, I’ve been forced to follow every order, day after day, collect soul after soul. If I refuse, then all the Angels question my allegiance. And collecting so many souls it… it takes a toll on you.”

I clutch onto him tightly with an ache forming inside my chest because I understand what it’s like to be an outcast. “That’s horrible, Asher. I’m so sorry.”

“It was… is.” He urges me closer by pressing his hand against the small of my back and I give into him, pressing my chest to his. “I’ve been alone in all this for so long.”

“You sound so much like me,” I note, perplexed. “Which is something I don’t get. If your father was a Reaper and your mother was an Angel than why aren’t you considered a Grim Angel?”

“Because I wasn’t born human,” he says, sounding sadden. “Grim Angels may have Angel blood and Reaper blood in them, but they’re also human and part of the human world, where as I am part of the Angel and Reaper world, am Immortal, can fly, take souls—it’s my job to.”

For a brief second I seriously thought he was going to say he was a Grim Angel and that we were the same—that I wasn’t as alone as I thought. “What about your mom?” I ask.

I feel him tremble under my hands. “My mother was banished and stripped of her wings when they found out what I was.”

I pull back, startled. “What?”

His fingers dig into my back in desperation. “She’s human now, or at least, close to human. Her wings, some of her power lost, like the ability to take souls and her strength. She’ll remain that way until the Angel’s leader Michael decides to give her back her wings, but I doubt he ever will,” he says, not with anger but with pain. “Michael has a hard time forgiving.”

“But isn’t he an Angel?” I ask. “I thought they were supposed to represent good.”

“For the most part they do, but they—we—do have our rules.”

“I’m so sorry, Asher,” I say again because it’s all I can think of to say. Suddenly I understand his painting even more. The pain he was able to capture probably stemmed from his own internal agony. “Do you ever see your mother?”

He shakes his head, his pain amplifying. “I’m not allowed to.”

I place a hand on his cheek, unshaven and rough beneath my hand, wanting to comfort him despite the uncertainty between us. “Do you know where she is?”

“I think somewhere in New York,” he tells me, leaning into my hand. “But I’m not sure where exactly and my whole basis of her living in New York only comes from rumors I’ve heard.”

“Do you—do you know who your father is?” I ask. “I mean, he’s a Reaper, but have you ever met him? Because you told me once that he was terrible to you.”

“I’m sorry,” he says remorsefully, his eyes pleading with me to understand. “I only told you that because I didn’t know what to say when you started asking me questions.”

“But you said he took you to that place with the statue,” I say, hurt that he’s lied to me so much. “Was that story a lie, too?”

He closes his eyes, then his firm chest lifts and descends as he takes a deep breath. “I went there with my uncle and mentor, Elliot Morgan, who you know as Professor Morgan.” His eyelids lift open, his pupils massive. “He was pretty much like a father to me. He was a friend of my mother and he sort of took it upon himself to step up and be a father figure when he could, but it was hard for him going up against the other Angels who wanted nothing to do with me.”

It hurts my heart to hear his story. So much agony; so much punishment. All because of something that was out of his hands. “But I thought he was your father’s brother?”

“He was—is— but there’s more to it that even I don’t know. My bloodlines… the people connected to it… it’s so complicated... and no one ever wants to talk about it.” He releases a stressed breath. “It’s a long story, filled with repeats of what my mom did. But to make it really short, my father’s mother—my grandmother—had sons from two different fathers. While she herself was an Angel of Death, she had an affair with a Reaper and my father came out of it.”

“But didn’t he get a choice, like you?”

“He did.” Two simple words, yet there’s so much sorrow connected to them.

“Oh.” It sounds like such a stupid response, but there’s not much else to say. “Well, why is Elliot—Professor Morgan—no longer an Angel of Death?”

“Another long story.” His eyes widen in surprise. “Wait, how did you know that?”

“Because I talked to him at school. He gave me this book and said we should meet up to talk, although I didn’t call him when I was supposed to and he left this really panicky message on my phone about…” My gaze drifts to the trunk in the corner of my room. “About the book that was taken that night by the shadow…” I struggle to say it aloud, hoping I’m not making a mistake telling him, hoping I can fully trust him.

Asher tracks my gaze to the trunk. “Why would he want to talk to you about the book?”

I get up from the bed and go over to the trunk. “Probably because he’s the one who gave it back to me.” I lift it open and take the book out of the hidden compartment in the bottom.

Shock slowly crosses Asher’s face. “What do you mean he gave it back to you?” His worried gaze locks on mine and then darts to the book in my hands. “But wouldn’t that mean he was the one who took it in the first place?”

I shrug, maintaining his gaze as I walk back to the bed and hand him the book. “You tell me.”

He holds the book in his hands and considers what I said with bafflement. “Are you sure the shadow was the one that took the book or could maybe my uncle have snuck in and you thought it was the shadow?”

I look over at the window as he fans through the blank pages in the book. “Well, that was open when I came up here and discovered it, so maybe… but still it wouldn’t explain why when he gave it back to me, the pages were all blank.”

I redirect my attention to him, expecting him to be more shocked, but he seems like he understands everything, nodding as he mutters something under his breath and shuts the book. “He did a secretum codice on the book.”

“What’s that?”

He traces his fingers over the leather cover of the book. “It’s a gift Angels have,” he says, his fingers wandering to his arm and he sketches the tip of his finger down his blood vein on his arm. “Our blood carries a lot of power and if used properly, it can help keep our secrets hidden. I’m guessing that my uncle spilled his blood on the pages of that book to hide the information in it.”

“But why would he want to hide it from me?” I ask as he gives me the book to put away. “When I was just getting to the part about freeing innocent souls.”

“I’m guessing he wasn’t hiding it from you,” he says as I put the book back in the bottom of the trunk. “I’m guessing he knew that someone was after it and he took it from you to protect it.”

“Yeah, but now I can’t read anything on the pages,” I tell him, closing the lid of the trunk. “And unless you know how a Reaper can steal a Grim Angels soul and free innocent possessed souls, the entire town is screwed.”

“I’m not sure I want to find that out,” Asher says, frowning. “Unless that Grim Angel isn’t you.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” I tell him, sitting down beside him and placing my hand on his. “But I do need to know how to do it—how to free everyone from this madness. From death.”

He momentarily stares down at my hand on his before looking up at me. “The only way to read what’s on the pages is for my uncle to unlock it with his blood again.”

“So we need to track down your uncle.”

“We need to track down my uncle.”

Feeling a weight crash on my shoulders, I retrieve my phone from my back pocket and hand it to him. “Call him then. I haven’t been able to get a hold of him, but maybe you’ll have more luck.”

Asher dials his uncle’s number. After trying a couple of times and having no luck, I’m a little surprised that Asher gets a hold of him. He chats quickly with him, asking him to meet up with us and explain what’s going on. After that he starts nodding and then gets a weird look on his face as he hangs up.

“That was weird,” he mutters, staring down at the phone in his hand.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, leaning over his shoulder.

He shakes his head, giving me back the phone. “He’s not in Hollows Grove.

“How can that be possible?” I ask, tossing the phone on my nightstand. “When I just saw him earlier today?”

Again, Asher shakes his head. “He said he had to run up to Jackson to get something for his class.”

“His possessed class?” I’m completely baffled. “And he left me a message to call him when I didn’t call him. It makes no sense.”

“Yeah, something’s definitely up, but there’s not anything I can do about it until he gets back in town unfortunately, which won’t be until tomorrow,” he says, glancing back at his back for some reason. “I’ll figure it out though, what’s going on. I’ll figure all this stuff out. I promise.” His gaze collides with mine and emotions storm through me. “What I want right now though is a little bit of time with you while we wait.” His gaze drops to my lips and desire radiates in his eyes. “All that matters right now is that I’m here with you.”

He’s wrong. There’s so much more that matters than just being with me. “I’m worried, Asher. About you. Me. My family. This whole entire town. I mean, so many people are possessed and there’s so many Anamotti around… and they’re leader is killing people... and that book could stop it all, if the pages hadn’t been erased by your uncle.”

“You need to stop worrying about stuff so much.” He tucks his finger underneath my chin and tips my head back to look me in the eyes. “I know it’s hard, but it’ll only make it easier for the Anamotti to get to you. Let me worry for you. Let me take care of this for you.”

He makes it sound so easy, but it’s not. It’s hard, walking around, being the target of insanity, being so connected to death, knowing what lies ahead for everyone, knowing that a murderer is walking around and there’s nothing I can do about it, at least not without that book. “Maybe going crazy is the better solution than constantly fighting it.” I could blame what I say on Cameron taking control of my mind again, but I know that’s not the case. I know that part of me means it. That maybe, if I just gave in, my family could be free from the burden I’ve put on them. Hell, maybe this whole town could be free from the possession. “Maybe I should just give in like my brother, and then, perhaps someone else could become the last Grim Angel—could free the entire town. I think I could live with banging my head against the wall.”

Asher appears hurt. “Ember, you don’t mean that.”

“But I think I do. I mean, look at my father,” I say. “He’s gone; either dead, or lost, or locked up somewhere because of this. I honestly have no idea what happened to him, but I’m sure it was something terrible. And I remember the final days I had with him.” I slip out from under his touch and get to my feet. I start pacing the floor, needing to move because sitting still seems so maddening. “How insane he acted. Talking to birds. Flipping out over the smallest things.” I shake my head at the dark memories. “And then there’s my brother, who might have had something to do with his girlfriend’s death a few years ago, who never showed any signs of being a Grim Angel, yet he gave in so easily to the Reaper side.” I want to cry, but my eyes have run dry. “I don’t want to become like them, yet I feel like I am.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Asher promises, standing up and moving in front of me, obstructing my path. “I promise, I won’t let you go crazy or vanish.”

I stop in front of him, but don’t respond. I can’t let myself believe that’s how things will be. My father always told me to trust no one, and at the moment, I have to look at things like that. Always. Everything could be a trick of the eye. There are still so many unanswered questions, and until I figure out what’s going on, trusting someone else to protect me is not an option.

I’m about to ask Asher another question that’s tickling the tip of my tongue, however the look on his face silences me. His eyes are imbued with lust and desire, which seems out of place, considering the circumstances. Then again, we haven’t really touched each other in weeks. I’m very aware of how much I crave his touch, the kiss of his lips, his tongue. God, the desolation I’ve been living in has been torture. And I don’t want to be tortured, if only for a moment.

“You can trust me, Ember.” He steps for me and I step for him, like two magnets unable to fight against the invisible pull between them. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

I nod, my eyes bound to his as I take another step towards him, magnetized, or maybe under some sort of possession. If that’s the case, I’m not going to fight it. He follows my move and gradually we reduce the space between us, slowly at first, and then somewhere in the midst of our silence, we decide to move rapidly. A second later our lips collide.

He groans and I gasp, my lips willingly parting as his tongue slips deeply into my mouth and his fingers ravel in my hair. He tastes like warmth and comfort, and feels like heat and bliss. I melt at the touch of his hands as they grip at my hips, his fingers wandering underneath the fabric; the heat of his skin intensely consuming my body. I curve inward as I clutch onto his shoulders, pressing my chest against his. He steals the air from my lungs as his hand winds around my back and slips under my shirt, his hand demanding against my back, pushing me closer to him so that we’re flesh to flesh, breath to breath, lips to lips.

God how I’ve missed the contact.

I remember all those years I lived without it before. It was only because I’d never had it before that I was able to live my life normally. After being with Asher, after he’d felt every inch of me, things changed. I changed.

I need his touch now.

“God… This feels so…” he moans against my mouth as he starts to back us towards the bed. Seconds later, we crash down onto the mattress where I land on top of him. His hands cup my ass and he urges me even closer, making a husky groan as his hardness presses up against me. Then he briefly pulls away, his eyes glazed over as he stares up at me. “I’m not sure I can do this…” He trails off, passion and hunger flooding his eyes, more raw than I’ve ever seen him.

“Why not?” I’m panting, grasping onto him so hard that my nails pierce through the fabric and into his flesh as I fight the desperation and overpowering need pulsating through my body.

“I don’t know…” He assesses me with contemplation before he leans up and kisses me again. The kiss is quick, testing, and then he pulls away, nibbling on my lip before he lowers his head back to the mattress and stares up at me again, looking torn and lost; baffled.

Something clicks inside my head. Asher has always asked for permission to kiss me, but this time he didn’t. I’m not sure what that means, or if it means anything, but something feels off.

“Are you okay?” I ask, pushing up on my elbows to look down at him.

He nods, a little bit dazed. “I just want you, so fucking bad.” The want flares in his eyes and he lets out a husky growl as he abruptly crashes his lips into mine so hard that I’m sure we’ll both have bruises. His fingers delve into my waist as he grabs ahold of me and then flips us over so I’m on my back and he’s on top of me. As his tongue then slips into my mouth, our legs entangle at the same time that his fingers search every inch of my body. His movements are uncalculated and out of control; trembling with eagerness, fear, and desire.

I grab onto the front of his shirt and slip my fingers underneath the fabric, feeling the smoothness of his skin and the ragged intake of his breath. I want to feel more of him so I glide my palms all the way up his chest, balling up the fabric, wanting to rip it off, but not wanting to break the contact of our lips.

He moans against my mouth as I bite on his bottom lip and suck on his tongue. His tongue ring grazes my teeth and it only makes him groan deeper. I need him closer, so close I can barely breathe. My legs part and he falls between me, pressing against me. I writhe my hips, feeling a slow burn building in my body, frantic to ignite. Flames. Heat. Fire. I’m blazing with passion while I start to helplessly pant; completely and utterly breathless as his hand slips under the waistband of my jeans and touches my bare skin.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispers against my mouth as his fingers travel lower. “I’m supposed to follow all these rules, stay away from you, ask for permission before I do anything, but now… everything’s different.” He rocks his hips against mine and I gasp. “Everything’s changed.”

Before I can ask what he means, his hand drifts farther down my jeans and then slips under my panties. My breath hitches as intense heat courses through my thighs. “I don’t know what to do with all this freedom, but I want to do whatever I want.” His fingers enter me and my head falls back as I clutch onto his shoulder blades.

“Then do whatever you want,” I moan, my chest heaving as I fight to catch my breath.

He moves back slightly to scan me over with this needy look in his eyes then his tongue slowly slips out of his mouth to wet his lips, causing the metallic tongue ring to flick against his teeth. The sound makes me shudder while desire rushes through my body, only amplifying as I take in the sight of him. His inky black hair is sticking up in a sexy bed-head way and his solid chest is rising and descending ravenously, his eyes burning with lust.

I move my hand down the front of his shirt and feel the beat of his heart, which is surprisingly erratic. I leave my palm on top of it for a moment and his heart rate only quickens. Then, without hesitation, I glide my hand downward and slip my fingers underneath the top of his jeans. His muscles stiffen as my fingers brush against his pulsating hardness and it only makes me want him inside me more.

A sound of pure ecstasy escapes his lips when my fingers wrap around him. He falls into my touch, holding onto me with desperation. He seems completely different from last time. So much more vulnerable and emotional. What’s different? I struggle to place it and words form inside my head like a puzzle as I try to figure it out.

A stone statue

Perfect and Flawless

Though beneath the structure

Cracks are hidden

Weakness shows

Vulnerability stems

So easily breakable

Like fine glass

Dropped onto the floor

Shattered

Into pieces

They broke him.

“Ember,” he groans again as I run my fingers up and down him, feeling how hard he is for me; how much he wants to be inside me. Seconds later, his fingers start to move inside me and we feel each other together as we roll on our sides. A near scream escapes my throat as he slips another finger inside me, but I bite my lip, drawing blood while somehow managing to keep moving my hand, and at the same time I feel myself getting more lost in his touch.

I’m about to lose it. Combust into pieces. Ignite in flames. When suddenly he stops moving his fingers and brings his free hand to my hair. He tangles his fingers through it, pulling roughly on the roots, causing my head to tip back before his lips come down on my throat. He sucks and nips at my skin, trembling with ragged breathing. I can’t shake the feeling that something’s up with him. He’s so much more out of control. So much rougher, although in a good way.

Finally, I force myself to stop rubbing him and lean back from his bites and nips on my skin. “Asher?”

He tenses, momentarily unmoving, catching his breath before he reclines to look at me. “Is something wrong?”

I search his eyes for an indication that something’s changed inside him. “I don’t know… Is there something wrong with you?”

His eyes widen and then he slides away from me, appearing lost as he lifts his hand up to rub his eyes. “I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything anymore.” His hand falls to his lap and his voice comes out as soft as a feather. “Do you remember when I said there were punishments for breaking the rules and that I was going to have to pay for getting involved with your life?” he asks and I nod, sitting up beside him. He reaches out and brushes the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, shaking his head. “They—Michael—well, at first he just forced me to stay away from humans, but then I went into the shadows and he was more upset.” His voice is unsteady. “Everyone thinks I’m a traitor and Michael made… he made me…” He sucks in a sharp breath and the words spill out of him. “He made me human again, or at least, stripped me of my wings.”

My jaw drops. “Like your mother?”

“Yes,” he whispers, shutting his eyes. “I’ve been banished.”

Chapter 10

I’m pretty sure Hell has frozen over or maybe it’s Heaven, since he’s an Angel. I’m not even sure how that works, though, if there’s a Heaven or Hell. From what Asher’s just shared with me about Angels of Death and his leader, I’m not sure Angels are quite as good as I thought.

Heaven and Hell

Reapers

Angels

Heavenly or Evil

Are they?

Aren’t they?

It takes me a second or two to find my voice again. “What does that mean exactly?” I gape at him, stunned. Shocked to the point that I feel sedated.

He swiftly shakes his head and sits up, grabbing onto me and sitting me with him. “It means that I’ve been banished like my mother and can no longer be with the Angels of Death. I’m still immortal, but I don’t have all of my Angel abilities such as my strength or the ability to fly.” He frowns as if he’s just realizing this.

I inspect him meticulously, running my fingers through the soft locks of his hair, taking in his eyes; they are the same slate grey, yet they look different somehow. “So you don’t have your wings?” I ask, placing my hands on his shoulders.

He reluctantly shakes head. “No, I have them, but they’ve stripped the power from them.”

“Can I—Can I see them?” I have no idea why I’m asking, other than I’m curious. I’ve seen them once in the graveyard and they were so beautiful that I couldn’t find words to describe them.

“You want to see my wings?” he asks, shocked and a little appalled.

With caution, I nod. “Unless it’s too weird.”

He’s silent, considering my request, and then he scoots to the edge of the bed and rises to his feet. He takes a few steps then turns in the middle of the room, glancing from side to side at the narrow space between the walls.

“I’m not sure if there’s enough room in here,” he utters quietly. “But I’ll try.”

I move to the edge of the bed and plant my feet on the floor as he starts to unbutton the plaid shirt he’s wearing; undoing each button unhurriedly. He’s definitely nervous, and so am I. I’m not even sure why, other than it makes everything feel that much more real. We can kiss and touch all we want, but as soon as he brings out his wings, all I’ll be able to think about are Angels and Reapers and how I’m a mix of both.

When he gets the last button undone, he sucks in a large breath, straightens his arms at his side, and the shirt falls off him and onto the floor. Lean muscles carve his stomach where his skin is as smooth as porcelain. On his one side, there is a tattoo of an angel with tears falling from her eyes, her black hair flowing to her back where feathers molt. On his opposing rib there’s an inscription that tells a story.

Unable to control myself, I get to my feet and walk towards him. Quivering slightly, I reach out and touch him, running my fingers along the cursive tattoo, feeling him shudder under my hand, but he doesn’t budge.

“Nigredo caped terra et possederunt corpora mortale,” I read the tattoo aloud, baffled on how I even know the language. “Ignis acquiritur super agros et fames possederunt maria.
Mors vincit iram et Angelos morte. Erat, sed omne sacrificium unum contrarium.
Morte puellae umero uno utrisque coniunctum esset electio salvificem mundum.
Sed non facile ad pugnam.”

“You’re making me nervous, Ember,” he says and my eyes rise from his stomach to his face, which is equally as beautiful.

“Sorry,” I apologize with little sincerity. “I couldn’t resist.”

He sucks in a sharp breath and then releases it, wisps of his hair fluttering away from his face. “It feels so good to hear you speak our language.”

“But how can I?” I whisper. “I don’t even understand what I just said.”

He gives me a lopsided smile. “It’s the Angel blood inside you.” He pauses, his eyes locked on me as his muscles start to tighten like a rope winding and knotting. There’s a loud snap and then his back hunches over. Moments later, a tip of a wing peeks out from each side of his shoulders; pointed angles that are concealed by the softest black feathers. They continue to stretch and grow until a pair of wings span from his back across my bedroom, similar to the painting on my wall. They nearly take up the whole length, wall to wall, and are incredibly powerful as well as strikingly beautiful.

I don’t speak as he straightens his back, standing to his full height while watching me, waiting for me to say something. I chew nervously on my lip, words connecting in my head, forming a description I’ve wanted to write for weeks; ever since the last time I saw him in the cemetery.

Translucent beauty

Feathers and perfection

Standing before me

So bold and bright

Blinding

Like the sun

So striking

Almost unreal

“Ember.” The sound of Asher’s voice brings me back to reality.

I blink away my thoughts that are still forming poetry and outstretch my hand to him. I trace my fingers up the front of his stomach, which flexes and sends heat soaring through my body. My hand pauses on his chest before traveling to his shoulders then around to his back. His focus is entirely on me, his gaze relentless, yet beneath it, there’s vulnerability. Asher looks human. And the look only amplifies as my fingers connect with the lower part of his wings where they rise out of his skin.

“God, they’re so soft,” I whisper in awe, stroking the feathers with my fingers.

He shudders as he lets out this soft moan, then his head lowers towards my neck. He buries his face into the crook of it and breathes in my skin. “God, that feels so good...”

I press my lips together, fighting back the urge to moan with him as I continue to let my fingers explore the base of his wings, the feathers getting softer the higher I go. He gasps for air as his shoulders start to tremble and then suddenly his wings are folding up into his back as his head snaps up.

“I can’t take it anymore,” he growls as he grabs me by the waist. Before I can react, we’re stumbling back onto the mattress, landing with a hard bounce.

His eyes darken as he jerks my shirt off and then undoes my bra, chucking it to the side. My breasts spring free and my nipples perk as the cold air hits them. I fight to maintain my breathing, but I can barely get control of anything inside me; my heart rate, my body heat, my desire. I know I’ve done this before with him, but for some reason, I still feel as nervous as the first time.

When he covers my body with his and conceals his mouth over mine, my nerves vanish and turn to eagerness. The fiery heat of his chest spreads to mine and my back curves upward as his fingers graze my nipple. I gasp, biting at his lip as my neck angles back and I draw my mouth away from his. He nips and sucks a path of kisses across my jawline, down to my neck, and when his mouth covers my nipple, I cry out, threading my fingers through his hair, pulling him in while seeking a way to release the helpless energy building in my body.

Finally, he sits up, his mouth leaving my breast. With one flick of his finger, he undoes the button of my pants and then tugs them off my legs along with my panties. Before I even have time to process being naked, he spreads my legs, and seconds later, the cold metal of his tongue ring flicks across my skin, sending an eruption of sweltering heat throughout my body.

As he moves his tongue and drives me further and further into blissfulness until I can’t breathe, I clutch onto the blanket while my body bucks against his mouth. Every part of my body pulsates as I climb higher and higher, drifting out into sheer ecstasy.

Seconds or maybe minutes later, I start to come back down. I can barely see, but I feel his mouth leave me. I hear the sound of a condom wrapper being peeled open, however I don’t open my eyes, spreading my legs when he shifts to position himself between them. He lowers his body closer to mine and I grip onto his arms as his mouth reaches mine. Then, with one swift thrust, he sinks deep inside me as he pins my arms beside my head and kisses me fiercely.

I cry out, stabbing my fingers into his back as he rocks into me. Want, desire, and passion potently flood through me and I can barely breathe. He thrusts into me again and I move my hips with him, meeting him in the middle. We continue to move rhythmically until our skin is covered in sweat; until we can’t breathe. Until we’re drifting away from everything, coming undone together, holding on, never wanting to let go.

Minutes later, he carefully slips out of me and rolls to his side, his arm slipping around me. He hugs me against his chest as I work to catch my breath.

“I think I’m glad I got banished.” He sounds like he might mean it.

I place a soft kiss on his chest. “I think I’m glad, too,” I mutter, still breathless.

At the moment, I mean it. Because right now, I could live in the wonderful solitude we’ve just created. Just Asher and me and no one else. However I know when I wake up the next morning it just might be gone.

We lie there for a while, in the silence, only it’s not as maddening as before. In fact, it’s sort of comfortable having him there with me. He makes everything else a little less terrifying. Eventually Asher starts to kiss me again, unable to keep his hands off me. I welcome his kiss, opening my mouth and letting his tongue slide deeply inside while his hand drifts up my spine. When he reaches the center of my back, however, and his skin brushes the spot of flesh between my shoulder blades, I jerk back from the tender pain.

“What’s wrong?” Asher asks in concern.

I bend my arm and reach over my back, wincing the moment my fingers touch the area and the pain doubles. “My back hurts,” I say, bringing my arm forward. “It’s probably from falling on the ground like a dumbass when Raven was here.”

Asher’s brows furrow. “Can I see it?”

I shrug and then roll over onto my stomach, shivering with excitement as he leans over me. “It’s not that big of a deal,” I try to tell him, flinching when he touches the area. “It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

He’s silent for a while as he continues to examine me. “You said you fell?”

I nod, my eyes shutting as his hands move away from the tender area and down my back, massaging my muscles. “Yeah, when I was being attacked.”

“You have a couple of bruises,” he says softly. “But usually a human doesn’t bruise that quickly.”

“It could be from something else…” I drift off as his fingers work to unwind the knots on my back.

“Yeah, maybe,” he says, yet he seems unconvinced. “But still, they’re in the strangest place.”

“Where…” A moan escapes my lips as his hands reach the bottom of my back.

It takes him a second to answer. “They’re about in the same area where Angel wings usually sprout.”

My eyes snap open and I start to sit up, but he gently pushes me back down against the bed. “Relax, Ember. I didn’t say you were growing wings, only that the bruises are in the same area.” I start to relax again as he continues to massage me. “They might simply be bruises.”

“What if they’re not, though?” I ask. “What if I am growing wings?”

His fingers stop moving. “Then it might mean that you’re the last Grim Angel standing,” he whispers. I feel the tension in the air and start to panic, so he quickly adds, “It hasn’t happened yet, though.” He returns to massaging my back again. I think it’s his way of trying to keep me calm. “Just relax,” he says, his hands moving up and around the tender spots to my shoulders. “I promise we’ll figure stuff out.” I feel him lean in and his lips brush just above the sore spot, right between my shoulder blades. “I promise I’ll take care of you.”

I nod, the tension leaving my body with every movement of his hands. There’s so much tension in my body, but he seems to be drawing it out, alleviating the pain as he moves up and down my back.

“You have amazing hands,” I mutter with my eyes remaining shut as my mind drifts off towards sleep.

“I’m glad you think so,” he replies with a hint of amusement in his tone. Then his chest lowers down onto my back and his head dips over my shoulder. I open my eyes and my heart leaps inside my chest at the lust blazing in his eyes. When he leans in to kiss me, I lift my head enough that our lips meet in the middle. It’s kind of an awkward kiss with me on my stomach and him hovering over my back, but it’s equally as amazing as it is awkward as he explores my mouth thoroughly.

The kiss goes on for hours and I wish it would go on forever, however eventually he moves away to get another condom. Then he’s back over me and lifting my hips. With one swift rock of his hips, he thrusts deep inside me.

I get lost, clawing at the blankets in desperation as I vanish into bliss. And if I could, I’d stay in this place forever, just him and I.

Chapter 11

Later that night, somewhere between midnight and sun rise, Asher and I lie together in my bed, exhausted and tired from round three. My legs ache, but in the most wonderful way. I want to go to sleep, yet at the same time, I don’t because I’m afraid that the moment I close my eyes all of this will be gone. Knowing that when I wake up, I could very easily be in bed alone, with nothing except death around me.

“What’s it like?” I ask as Asher situates his head on the pillow beside me, lying on his side with his hair hanging in his eyes and his legs pressed against mine.

He brushes my hair out of my eyes and then places his hand on the curve of my bare waist. “What’s what like?”

“Heaven? Or wherever it is Angel’s live.”

He frowns. “Right now, most of the Angels live on earth, at least ever since the battle. And the one’s that aren’t, live in a pretty peaceful place between worlds.” His fingers spread along my skin and he guides me closer to him. “But honestly when I’m not here I live in a place that the human mind couldn’t even begin to comprehend… a lot of angels choose to.”

I slip my knee between his legs. “I don’t get what you mean.”

“I know you don’t,” he says. “The best way I can describe it to you is that it’s not really a place; it’s more a state of mind where we can create a place just how we want and put whoever we want there.”

“It doesn’t sound that bad.” I delicately put a hand on his chest right above his thudding heart.

“It isn’t that bad. And when this is all over—when the battle ends and I’m forgiven for what I’ve done—I’ll go back to it.”

I try to hide my discontent the best that I can. “And what will happen to me? If I survive?”

“You will survive,” he insists, intensity burning in his eyes as his hand slides up my spine to the nape of my neck. “And when the battle’s all over, you’ll go back to being Ember and living your life just the way that you’re supposed to.”

“But the rest of the Grim Angels that gave in won’t?”

“Unfortunately no, but they will go to the good side, because I know that’s the side you’re going to choose.”

He has so confident in me, but I wonder if he still would be if he lived inside my head and saw my thoughts.

“But what if I become the last one?” I ask. “What happens when there’s only one Grim Angel standing? Do they just make a choice and then poof, the battles over?”

“No, it’s not that simple at all. In fact, I don’t even know everything that will happen, only a few details,” he replies with a pucker at his brow. “But regardless, after you make your choice, your blood will be free of angel and reaper blood.” He pivots on his hip and rolls over me, covering my body with his and propping up on his elbows. “And so will you.”

“But then I won’t ever see you again, right? I mean, if you go back to wherever it is that Angels go, you’ll be there and I’ll be here. Alone.”

“You’ll never be alone. Even when I’m not here, you’ll still have your family.”

It’s hard to accept the fact that he’s not going to tell me what I want to hear. That he won’t be here after the battle ends. I wonder if it’s because he won’t be able to be here; if he’ll have to go back along with all the other Angels of Death and the Grim Reapers.

“My family’s not that great,” I say miserably.

“I know right now they aren’t, but they’re under possession, or at least, your brother is.”

“The last time I checked, my mother wasn’t. And she was never that great of a mother to me.” I shake my head, feeling the tears burn in my eyes. “You know, I think she knew what I was all along and hated me for it.”

His forehead creases as he gazes down at me. “That can’t be possible.”

“But it is,” I whisper. “When I was younger, I took the life of my grandmother…” I swallow the large lump wedged in my throat, “because she was dying and asked me to, and even though my mom didn’t flat out come to me and say ‘hey, you’re a Grim Angel’, I could tell she knew because she kept telling me that I killed her.”

Asher stares deeply into my eyes as he strokes the corner of my eye with his fingertip. “She shouldn’t have known, unless your grandmother told her, but how would she even know?” The more he thinks about it, the more confused he looks. Then he pushes up, leaving my body cold as he sits up and pulls up one knee, resting his elbow on it. “What about your father? When all this was going on, where was he?”

I sit up and reach for my shirt on the floor. “He’d moved out and was slowly starting to get the rep of the town crazy.” I pull the shirt on over my head and flip my hair out of the collar. “Asher, you’re not… I mean, you don’t think my mom has anything to do with this, do you?”

“I’m not sure exactly. I do know that the Grim Angel blood on your father’s side has been going on for many generations, which is one of the reason why I think you might be the last one standing, but if your mother is connected to it too, that would make you….” He trails off.

“Make me what?” I press, even though I fear the answer.

“You’d be so pure,” he says softly. “You’re entire blood pure Grim Angel and it’d give me even more of a reason to believe you’re going to be the last Grim Angel, because your blood line could be connected to what started this all.” He shakes his head, staring out the window at the moon shining in the sky as he processes this revelation and I try not to freak out about what this all means, not just in terms of being the last Grim Angel, but in terms of the fact that my mother’s been connected to this the entire time.

“I’d really like to talk to your mother and see is she knows about all of this.” He looks over his shoulder at me, his head tipped to the side, strands of his black hair hanging in his eyes. “I’ve never even met her.”

“That’s sort of a good thing,” I tell him. “She’s not the nicest person. Or the most responsible.” And honestly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was a Grim Reaper, simply because of how much hate she carries inside her.

His sympathy deepens. “Still, I think I should talk to her.”

“Well, if we can find her, you can,” I tell him. “But right now, I have no idea where she is. She was in a drug treatment facility up until a few days ago when she left without telling anyone and I haven’t been able to find her.”

He offers me a sympathetic look. “Well, if she’s human, then I can track her down rather easily.”

“How so?” I wonder.

“By tracking down her soul. It’s what I do... or what I used to do.” He pauses. “Shit. I’m not even sure I can do that anymore…” He ponders over this and then perks up a little. “But I’ll try to find her no matter what it takes.”

I gather my hair back behind my head and then reach for an elastic band on the nightstand. “Thank you. I know I’m not a fan of hers, but she’s all I have left and it’s been lonely without her living here, even if she was only ever here just to change her clothes, grab a bite to eat, and shower. And plus, if she is part of this whole Grim Angel thing, then she’s in trouble.”

“How long have you been living here by yourself?” he asks, glancing around at my room which is still a mess from when the shadows ransacked it.

“Well, Ian was here off and on until about a few weeks ago.” I scoot up next to him, needing to be near him, feel that I’m no longer alone. “Although, he never really is here, at least not mentally since I’m pretty sure he’s possessed. He hasn’t been home in about a week and he wouldn’t return any of my voicemails, but he showed up in the attic just a while ago… with Raven… Did you know he was a Grim Angel this entire time?”

“As soon as I see someone, I know if they are,” he says guiltily.

“Why did you never say anything about it to me?”

“Because I couldn’t.”  He looks at me with pity in his eyes. “I’m so sorry Ember. That you lost your brother and that you’ve been so secluded… You must have been so lonely having no one to talk to.”

“I was, but I wasn’t entirely alone” I stretch my arms out in front of me and glance down at my exposed arms and the fading lines on them. “There was Cameron, but I think I prefer the solitude over that.” Liar. Liar.

He lowers his knees and allows our bodies to touch, our sides and shoulders pressing together. “We’re going to figure all this out and I’m not going to leave you until we do, okay?”

I nod, choking up more than I like. “Okay.”

The corners of his lips quirk. “Now, I can help you with one thing right now, if you trust me enough to do something.”

I rack my mind for what I’m truly feeling; whether or not I trust him. “Okay, I trust you.”

A full smile shines through as he reaches for my hand. “Come here.”

I lace my fingers through his and then he entices me onto his lap as he reclines against the wall just to the side of the window so I have a view of the dark, deserted street where even the police car is gone, which is unusual at night.

Asher’s places a palm on each one of my cheeks and wets his lips with his tongue as he glimpses down at my lips with a slow burning fire in his eyes. “I want you to drink some of my life,” he says softly.

I instinctively jerk back, repulsed and frighteningly a little turned on. “Asher, I can’t do that.”

His hold on me is firm and I can barely put any space between us. “You’ll be okay. I promise. And it will erase the death Cameron put on your arms.”

“And what will happen in its place?” I ask worriedly.

His lips inch towards mine, his breath dusting my cheeks. “More of your Angel blood will emerge.”

“Could I… I mean, if I took enough, could I become an Angel of Death?”

His face turns a little white. “You could, but I won’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” I feel gravely disappointed, yet grateful at the same time, proving again that I have no idea what I want. Evil or good? You’ll have to decide eventually.

“Because Michael would never accept you,” he says. I can feel his pulse pounding through his fingertips. “He’d make you come back to serve your purpose. It’s how he is.”

“So, he’d make me a Grim Angel again?”

He nods. “I’m sorry, but there isn’t really any easy way out of this.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not your fault.” I pause, my undivided attention centering on his luscious lips. “So how will I know when to stop drinking?”

The half-smile appears again. “I promise I won’t let you take too much, even though I’m sure I’ll want you to,” he says as he slides his palm up my side, his hand stopping just beneath my breast. “Although, if I could, I’d love to let you.”

I’m not really sure what he means by that, but I trust him enough that I don’t question him on it further. “Okay, but it doesn’t hurt you, right?”

He shakes his head, his eyes glimmering like the stars just outside the window. “It won’t hurt at all.”

I nod nervously and then slant in closer so that my lips are brushing against his. I can hear his heart beating steadily inside his chest at the same time that I feel the warmth of his breath and body surrounding me. I inhale, and when I let it out, I eliminate the space between our mouths and seal my lips to his, focusing on drinking the life from him.

His lips instantly scald mine and I tug my fingers through his hair, crushing my chest against his. He gasps as I breathe in, feeling what’s inside him transferring to the inside of me. It feels lighter than Cameron’s, like I’m drinking the sun. When it spills through my veins, it feels cool and soothing.

“Take more,” Asher whispers and I do, stealing larger breaths full of air as our tongues explore each other, entangle, become one. I want to stay like this forever, always linked to him and whatever it is that’s inside him because it’s the most potently wonderful thing I’ve ever come across. I never want to let it go.

Eventually, though, he starts gasping for air and finally pulls away, breaking the connection.

“I’m sorry,” he pants, his pupils immense, his lips swollen. “I just had to get some air.”

My chest raggedly rises and falls as I inspect him for any damage, but he looks just the same; inky black hair that hangs in his slate grey eyes, smooth skin, luscious lips, and lean muscles that make up his near perfect body.

“I didn’t take too much, did I?” I ask breathlessly.

He shakes his head, looking tired yet content. “You took the perfect amount,” he says, his fingers finding my wrist and delving into my flesh. “And it got rid of these, too.”

I glance down at my arm and can’t help smiling at the sight of my mark free skin. Deep down, though—way, way down—disappointment burns at the fact that I can no longer have the connection to Cameron, which makes me wonder who I am. If I really am evil but have been hiding behind the good because it’s all I know.

Chapter 12

I wake up to the sunlight hitting my eyes, my face pressed against Asher’s chest and my hand on his stomach. Somehow in our sleep, we tangled ourselves together, so I can barely figure out where he starts and I end. After a little bit of struggling, I manage to get my legs untangled from his and then I slip out from underneath his arm. I stretch my arms above my head and smile up at them, free from Cameron’s death; realizing that despite my doubting thoughts, I am really glad that they’re gone.

After I stretch, I relax back and stare down at Asher sleeping in my bed. I hate to admit it because I don’t want to be one of those girls who’s only happy when I have a boyfriend, however I do feel a little less weighted than I have over the last few weeks.

Maybe today will be a good day, I think to myself, staring out the window at the grey sky.

Think again, Cameron’s voice stabs at my head like bees.

Dammit. I thought you left. I cup my fingers around my wrists. They’re gone, so how are you still inside my head?

There’s just a hint of it left, since Reaper blood is more powerful then Angel blood, he says smugly. Which means I have a little bit of time left inside your head.

I grunt and get out of bed, heading to my closet, expecting Cameron to make a remark about the fact that I only have a shirt on that barely covers up my ass, but he stays silent inside my mind as I pull on a black shirt that’s held together with a red ribbon along with a pair of black jeans. Then I tug the elastic out of my hair and tousle my fingers through it before I quietly sneak out of the room so Asher can sleep and I can fight with Cameron aloud.

He’s so vulnerable now that he’s banished, Cameron muses in my head as I head down the hallway. I’ll have to remember that.

“Don’t you dare do anything to him,” I warn as I pad down the stairs. “He’s only that way because he helped me.”

“No, it happened because he wasn’t supposed to touch you at all, especially how he touched you last night,” Cameron says, miraculously appearing at the bottom of the stairs in full human form, wearing slacks, a black shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and a shiny watch.

I freeze in the middle of the stairway, my eyes fixed on him as I take in the noiselessness of the house. “What are you doing here? Isn’t living in my head enough for you?”

He ambles towards the bottom of the stairway, taking calculated strides. “I’m not literally in your head, Ember. Only my voice.”

“And you can read my mind,” I state, daring to take another step. “Can you see through my eyes, too?”

He leisurely scrolls up my body, his eyes as black as the night sky and they burn like the stars. “Afraid I’ve seen you naked?”

I protectively wrap my arms around myself, shaking my head, but it’s a huge lie. “I’m just wondering how your little trick works so that maybe I can protect myself next time you force me to walk into a building full of people who want me dead.”

“They don’t want you dead,” he says nonchalantly. “They want you on their side.”

I grip onto the railing and take another step down. “And you want me because…? You never have made that one-hundred percent clear; why are you so eager to get me to do things for you?”

“I have made that clear, you just don’t want to believe me.” His penetrating gaze makes me restless and uneasy. “Because I want you, princess.”

I let out an uneven breath before I speak. “Well, what if I don’t want you to have me?”

“Sometimes what we really want, isn’t what we think we want.” He extends his hand to me. “Now, come with me. I have something to show you.”

I lean away from his hand. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He’s irritated. “I promise I’m not here to hurt you. Only help you.”

I snort a laugh. “That is such a lie.”

He keeps his hand out towards me with zero patience in his eyes. “Have I ever hurt or tried to harm you?”

“In the bowling alley,” I say without missing a beat.

“You made it out of there safe and sound,” he retorts.

“Because Asher helped me.”

“No, I helped you,” he says heatedly. “Asher may have been there, but I’m the one who got you out of there alive.”

I scowl at him. “You’re the one that put me there in the first place.”

He narrows his eyes, still keeping his damn arm out to me. “Because I was trying to help you find the leader of the Reapers, the person behind all this madness.”

“You’re a Grim Reaper,” I point out, swatting his hand away, but it barely moves. “You’re part of this madness, too.”

“And you’re a Grim Angel,” he spats back. “Which means part of you belongs to the Reaper bloodline and that makes us not that far apart.”

“Maybe in blood,” I say, fighting to keep my voice even. “But we aren’t in terms of morals. Like, for instance, I’m not a murderer.”

“You’re not?” he questions, cocking his brow. “What about the other night in the alleyway.”

“That was an accident,” I say, gripping onto the railing to keep my support as I feel my knees threatening to buckle. “And he didn’t die.”

“Thanks to me.” He slants forward and snatches hold of my hand, jerking me down the last two steps. “Now, would you quit being stubborn and come with me? There’s something I need to show you; something important,” he says. When I glance apprehensively over my shoulder, he adds, “Don’t worry. He’ll be out for a while, especially now that he’s human.”

“He’s not human,” I argue as he hauls me towards the door and I try to figure out why I’m going with him of my own freewill. Is it simply because I want to see what he wants to show me, or is it something deeper, a connection I don’t want to admit exists? “He’s just been banished… and how did you even know about it at all?”

He pulls open the door and a chilly breeze gusts in along with dry leaves that flutter along the tile floor. “Because I heard you two talking last night when I decided to momentarily enter your thoughts and check if you were all right.”

I pull an appalled face. “What else did you hear?”

He rolls his eyes. “Like I’d want to hear that. I tuned right out before I got to hear a live porn show,” he says in a tight voice as he steers me out the front door with him.

I shut the door behind us and then we head across the grass towards the curb. The sun is peeking through the clouds, but the air is chilly and there’s a layer of frost on the grass along with browned leaves. The neighborhood is rather vacant except for a neighbor up the street loading boxes into the trunk and the old lady that lives across the street. It would seem like an ordinary day except for the fact that both of them are dressed in summer clothes and their eyes are glowing as they watch me.

“God, it’s spreading like a virus,” I say as I stare at the old lady across the street, who is watering the sidewalk with a hose, her gaze fixed on me.

“They sure seem to be fixated on you, too,” Cameron remarks as he studies the woman wearing floral shorts and pink bunny slippers like it’s not thirty degrees outside. She must be numb to the cold from the Reaper being inside her. “It makes me wonder just how close we’re getting to you being the last Grim Angel standing. Or maybe we’re already there,” he says in a taunting voice as he looks at me.

I shake my head, but after everything I’ve learned, I’m starting to believe that it’s going to end up being me and I’m not sure how I feel about that; how I feel about being the one responsible for good or evil ruling the souls.

Whether I’ll make the right choice.

I shove the disturbing thought out of my head and look around at my quiet neighborhood. There’s a black car with tinted windows parked in front of the house across from mine. I can’t see very well inside the window, but I know there are two undercover detectives in there.

“You know it’s bad enough that I have the Anamotti possessing my neighbors, but I have the police watching me, too.” I shake my head as I watch the cops observe me crossing my front lawn. “I thought they would have given up by now,” I mutter under my breath as I slip my hand from Cameron’s so I can wrap my arms around myself.

“Why would they?” he asks, looking at me from over his shoulder as we head up the sidewalk. “They’re part of the Anamotti.”

My jaw drops and my head snaps in the direction of the police car. “What? I thought they were real cops.”

Cameron moves to the other side of me, blocking their view of me or maybe it’s my view from them. “Don’t do anything weird,” he hisses under his breath. “Just keep walking straight to my house like nothing is going on. They’re not Anamotti, but they’re possessed by the Anamotti, which means they could very easily decide to get out and torment you.”

“But why are they here? They’ve been parked out in front of my house for three weeks now and haven’t done anything.”

“Exactly.” He touches the small of my back with his hand and guides me across the street. “The more natural you make things look, the more they’re going to think that they’re not getting to you.”

“But nothing about this is natural,” I say as we step up onto the curb in front of his house. “I’m with you.”

His long legs stretch as we cross the strip of lawn. “But as far as they know, I’m a Reaper who’s not working against them, so they think it’s natural that I’m tormenting you.”

My initial reaction is to stop, but I keep my legs moving forward. We trot up the steps and underneath the canopy of the front porch that belongs to his small, two-story house. There are leafless trees partially blocking us from the view of the undercover police car. He removes his hand from my back to open the front door.

He opens the door and holds it open for me, motioning me to go inside. “Ladies first.”

I hesitate, glancing over my shoulder at my house before I step over the threshold into his. “You say you’re not working with them because they hate your family, yet they seem okay with you wandering around with me. It makes no sense.”

He shuts the door behind us and locks it. “As far as most of the Reapers know, I’m working with them, trying to work my way back onto their good side,” he says, turning around to face me. “The only person that truly knows is the one who cursed my family. Our lovely leader, Altarius Vinceton.”

“And yet he doesn’t come after you? Even after you took the necklace from him?”

“Oh I’m sure he will eventually,” he says, leaning against the door. “After he’s gained enough power to take on my family and get back the necklace. But for now, he’s got more important things to worry about like killing innocent people and capturing their souls—killing an entire town.” He folds his arms and waits for me to react and when I do, my jaw nearly hits the floor.

“Are you trying to tell me that your family is more powerful than the leader of the Reapers?” I ask, flabbergasted. “How can that be possible?”

“Because for a very long time Altarius Vinceton or Alton has been suffering from the loss of his powers because we stole his precious necklace from him, therefore gaining some of his power and making it so he’s susceptible to his own kind draining his energy as they live on this earth, collecting souls.”

“Why the hell would your family take the necklace to begin with? Just to protect yourselves?

He shrugs. “You’d have to ask my father that.”

“Maybe you should just ask him.”

“Easier said than done,” he says. “Since I have no idea who he is.”

I press my fingertips to my temples and breathe deep. “I know that’s not true. I saw him at the bar and that day you were moving into the house, which by the way, I’m not even sure how you ended up here in the house again when I saw a for sale sign in it a few days ago.”

“Because my uncle bought it,” he says and then snorts a laugh. “And I’m guessing that that goofy looking guy you think is my father, is Delfonte, my older half-brother.”

My lips form an ‘o.’ “Well, he sure looks like you.”

He rolls his eyes like I’m ridiculous. “No one looks as good as me.” He stares at me for a moment, his eyes are unreadable as he whisks passed me towards the stairway that leads up to his bedroom. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

He disappears up the stairs. Sighing, I go into the living room that has deep red walls and a brick fireplace. The mantle is ornamented with plastic plants and photos. Above it is a mirror trimmed with a gold frame. Just like last time, the air smells like cinnamon and apples from the candles burning on the shelf in the corner. The only thing that’s different is the absence of Mackenzie Baker sitting on the sofa. I can’t help thinking about that night; how I sat and talked to her, not knowing she was dead. I knew so little back then. Part of me wishes I could go back to being that naïve person, but at the same time, if I was still her, then I would have never met Asher and last night would have never happened.

God, last night was amazing.

I touch my lips as I remember, standing in the doorway without moving even when I hear the sound of Cameron’s footsteps coming down the stairs. He stops just behind me, the heat of his body mixing with mine as he shifts his weight close to me and I tense, though I don’t budge.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers in my hair, breathing in my scent.

I shrug, trying not to shiver from his touch, but it’s difficult. “About that night.” I turn and look over my shoulder at him, leaning back when I miscalculate our distance and our lips almost touch. “How I sat here talking to Mackenzie and she was dead the entire time”

He gives me a mystified look. “You say that like it’s a weird thing.”

“It is weird… I’m weird….”

“So what if you’re weird,” he says. “I’m weird. The entire world’s weird if you really look at it.”

“The entire world doesn’t see the dead and talk to Reapers who like to fuck with their head.” I turn to face him. “You could have just told me she was dead that night and saved me a hell of a lot of confusion.”

He folds his arms over his chest, his gaze weighted. “I didn’t tell you that night that Mackenzie was dead for the same reason I don’t tell you stuff that would lead you away from me.” He inclines forward, the heat of his body suffocating and consuming me. “You and I aren’t friends, and in the end, I only want one thing from you. And that’s you. And the more you know about me, the less you’re going to want me.”

I’m not sure how to respond to his blunt statement. “But in order for you to have me means we’d have to be friends,” I say quietly, leaning back to get breathing room and my back bumps the wall.

“Not with what I want from you.” His eyes are locked on me, penetrating deep inside me, beneath my skin, to a part of me that I don’t want to admit exists. The one that wants to see what it’s like to be with him. Kiss him. Drink evil. Torture. The more I think about it, the more my eyes start to burn and my lips tingle. I’m not sure what it means, but it has happened a couple of times and I’m starting to believe there might be more to it.

“And what do you want from me?” Again my voice is unbalanced.

“What Asher has taken from you twice,” he says, in a low, husky voice that stupidly makes me shiver.

“He didn’t take it from me.” I glare at him, doubting that could possibly be the only reason he wants me. “I gave it to him.”

His fists clench, so does his jaw, but the tense look quickly dissolves. Moments later, he looks calm, relaxed and in control. “That’s fine. Keep fighting. You will give in eventually, though.”

I’m about to leave because clearly it wasn’t a good idea to come here, yet then he inches back and sticks his hand out, palm up. Inside it, is a maroon stone that gleams in the light trickling through the windows.

“My grandmother’s necklace.” I quickly reach for it, remembering how Professor Morgan said it could protect me.

Cameron pulls his hand away and tucks it behind his back. “No, it was my family’s necklace… Well, the necklace we stole from Altarius Vinceton. Your grandmother stole it from us.”

“Yeah, you say that,” I tell him, folding my arms, “yet how am I supposed to believe you when you’re always lying?”

“You don’t have to believe me,” he replies nonchalantly. “Just know that it’s mine and that I’m lending it to you for a while.” Then he moves his hand back out and unfolds his fingers from it.

I don’t budge. “Why are you lending it to me when you made such a big deal about getting it back? And made such a big deal about how Professor Morgan was lying to me about it.”

“I never said he was lying to you about the necklace,” he says. “I said it was awfully suspicious that he was handing over information.”

“And now you’re here handing over the necklace.”

“Because it will protect you from what lies ahead in the very near future, which is going to be your death if you don’t take it…” He shoves his hand at me. “So take the damn necklace, Ember, before I change my mind.”

I don’t take it. “How do you know what lies ahead for me in the near future?”

“The same way you know how,” he responds, annoyed. “I see death omens and I’ve recently stumbled upon yours, so will you just take the damn necklace.”

Again, I don’t take it and get some sort of sick twisted pleasure over the fact that this seems to make him angry. “Yeah, but you made such a big deal about your family needing it because it protects you.”

“Yeah, so?” he says, annoyed.

“But then you’ll be vulnerable.”

His eyes glint with something that makes me all warm inside. “Which shows how important you are to me. I’m pretty much giving up my family’s security for a moment to protect you and trust me, we need protection right now since our leader is wandering around here on earth.”

I feel disgustingly touched by his twisted gesture and reluctantly, I take it from his hand, thinking about the time I was wearing it and crashed my car into the lake. “So I’m going to die in the near future, huh?”

He arches a brow. “You say that with zero fear.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that I’ve died more than once and I’m still standing here.”

“This isn’t just about death, princess. It’s about the Anamotti getting ahold of you and torturing you.” As he reduces the space between us, his fingers wrap around my wrist. “So, do what’s best for you and let me put the necklace on you.”

I look down at the necklace in my hand. “I’ll put it on myself.”

He doesn’t argue, moving back and letting me go. Then I put the necklace on, hoping I’m not making a mistake, hoping that this moment won’t come back to bite me in the ass. Once I get the chain fastened, I start to ask Cameron exactly how I’m supposed to die, but he cuts me off, walking passed me to the door, his shoulder brushing against mine.

“Now go back to your house and check your email,” he says, opening the door up.

I wrap my fingers around the pendant resting in the hollow of my neck. “Why?”

“Because you have a message from August Millard and I know you’ve been dying to hear from him.” Then irritation rises in his expression. “Plus, Asher’s about to wake up and I don’t want him coming over here to look for you. I’ve had enough of him to last me a century.”

My eyes widen. “How do you know all of this? Are you freaking telepathic or something?”

He gives me a gentle shove and I stumble out the door. “No, don’t be ridiculous. I know everything because I live in the shadows and can see everything... which lets me get inside your head.”

“Oh, my God, was it you in the attic when Raven was up there?” I shake my head in fury. “Were you pretending to be my dad?”

He rolls his eyes at me. “Don’t be absurd.” But then he pauses, musing over something, and smiles. “Although, I wouldn’t completely discount that your dad might have been there.” With that, he slams the door in my face.

My jaw drops as I’m left wondering if he was telling the truth; if my dad could still be alive and was in the attic. If that’s true, then that would mean he was one of the shadows; a Reaper.

“Cameron, is that true or were you just fucking with my head.” I bang on the door a few times, telling him to explain what he meant, but he never responds. Finally, I give up and jog across his front lawn, ignoring the Anamotti in the police car parked only a few feet away as I hop over the curb. I rush across the street and to the front lawn, catching my breath as I enter my house. I quietly close the door behind me and rush up the stairs to Asher and my laptop.

When I get to my room, the door is wide open and Asher isn’t in my bed. I grow nervous as I step inside and glance around, noting his clothes aren’t on the floor anymore.

“Did he leave me?” I’m stunned, my heart starting to split in two. No, that can’t be possible. He wouldn’t do that to me.

“I would never leave you.” The softness of his voice encases me.

I follow the sound over to the closet and draw the curtain back, letting daylight slip into the darkness. Asher is sitting on the floor wearing the same clothes as he had on last night. The plain shirt and jeans wrinkled, his hair ruffled, and his skin is a little pale. He’s facing the wall that I often write poetry on. It makes me uneasy because sometimes my poetry can come off morbid.

“Did you write this?” he asks without looking at me. “Well, I’m assuming you did, since it’s your wall.”

I move up behind him and kneel down, feeling him stiffen, but he quickly relaxes. “Yeah, I wrote all of it… which one are you looking at?” I ask.

He tips his head to the side, looking at me, wisps of his hair falling in his eyes. “All of them, really, but particularly the one on the top.” He turns his attention back to the wall and reads it aloud, “Small and insignificant the Ember burns at the bottom, half alive, half dead, hidden beneath flames that roar bright, always the focus of life. Smothering and dying, the Embers always strive to burn, but never fully get there. They are never the light, the burn, the flashy focal of want and attention. They are simply charred and overlooked.” When he finishes, he looks back at me. “You’re not overlooked.”

“Just because the poem says Ember, doesn’t mean I wrote it about me,” I say quietly, crisscrossing my legs.

“It’s not about you then?”

I shake my head, but then sigh despairingly. “All right, it is about me, but keep in mind that I wrote it when I was fifteen and wasn’t handling my gift very well. I always felt completely alone and empty, kind of like how I’ve been feeling for the last few weeks.”

“I never want you to feel alone and empty…” He trails off as his gaze glides downward to the necklace resting in the hollow of my neck. His slate eyes turn as dark as magma. “Where did you get that?”

I cover the pendant with my hand. “Um, Cameron gave it to me just a while ago,” I tell him and then quickly add, “He said it would protect me from the death that’s supposed to be in my near future.”

“It will protect you…” He trails off again, his eyes gliding up to mine. He looks pained. “Wait a minute, you were with him before; that’s where you were?”

I feel like an asshole as I nod. “He showed up at the house this morning.”

“And just gave it to you? Without taking anything in return?” He’s not buying it.

“Well, after he took me to his house,” I say ashamedly.

His jaw muscles go taut. “You went with him to his house. Alone? How…? Why…? Do you…?” He scratches at the back of his neck as more and more anger rises. “Do you like him?”

“What? No. Asher, it’s not like that. He was just chattering in my head and then he told me he had something to give me. I don’t like him. At all. I promise.” Laughter instantly fills my head and even though I hate to admit it, it’s not Cameron’s; it’s my own.

“Yet you trusted him enough to go with him,” he says, the hurt on his face so overwhelming that I feel like crying. “Trust means a lot, especially when it comes to you. You don’t trust very often.”

“It’s not like that… he just—” I blow out a frustrated breath. “Sometimes when he’s around it’s hard to think straight. Besides, I trust you more than I trust anyone.”

He’s still unconvinced, however he lets his anger go. “I just want you to be careful.” He takes my hand. “You’re so important to me.”

I’m not sure how to respond to his endearing remark, therefore I remain silent. I do need to be more careful, but at the same time, I’m glad that I have the necklace right now because it makes me feel safe. It always has since the day my grandmother gave it to me.

He releases my hand from his and rubs his eyes like he’s exhausted. “I feel weird, like really tired all the time and overly emotional. I think it might be because I was banished and am feeling more human stuff or something.”

I force a light tone. “I’m sure it’ll get easier with time.”

“I hope so,” he says, his mood plummeting. “The last thing I need is to be weakened by emotions, especially when you need me.”

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him then get to my feet, threading my fingers through his and pulling him with me. “Which reminds me, I need to check my email.”

“Why?” he asks as we exit the closet, holding hands.

“Because I’ve been trying to get a hold of this guy named August Millard.” I let go of his hand, get my laptop from the dresser, and drop down on my unmade bed. “Who wrote that book your uncle erased. I’m hoping he might be able to give me some answers, not just about freeing the town from the possession but also what lies for me ahead if I become a Grim Angel.”

“My uncle didn’t erase the book… he just hid everything in it,” he says, sitting down next to me. “Besides, when my uncle puts the words on the pages, I can translate it for you.”

“Yeah, but the book can’t tell me everything, like what’s going to happen to me if I’m the last one remaining.” I say. “But August seems like he might know enough about it and he can tell me unlike you.”

“I already told you I don’t know everything. Only our leaders do, since they’re the ones who created the curse.” He sighs. “And the parts that I do know, you wouldn’t want to know.”

“I do want to know,” I insist. “And August isn’t an Angel so he might be able to tell me.”

“If you really want to know stuff….” He rubs a hand over his face. “I might be able to tell you a few things.”

“But I thought you were bound not to tell because you’re an Angel.”

“Yeah, but—but I’m not feeling very….” He angles his head back and looks up at the ceiling like he’s thinking deep, feeling what lies inside him. “Angel right now and it makes me wonder what would happen if I told you stuff I knew.”

I open my laptop and press the power button. “You could try it out,” I suggest, thinking about how Asher’s uncle was able to tell me stuff and he was an Angel of Death once. “Although, I’m not really sure what will happen if you try to tell me and you can’t. Will you just not be able to say anything, or do you simply get in trouble?”

He absentmindedly reaches behind him and touches the spot on his back where I saw his wings sprout from. “No, in the past my lips literally couldn’t utter the secrets bound in the Death Angels’ circle.”

I yawn as the computer screen lights up. “Okay, then you should try to tell me something and see where it goes.”

“I’m not sure I want to tell you the parts that I know,” he states with indecision, staring down at his hands.

I type in my password, feeling my stomach jolt in fear of just how bad it is. “Why not?”

He swallows hard, glancing up at me, his eyes flooded with worry. “Because it’s bad.”

“Worse than being tortured by a group of rebellious Reapers?” I point out, trying to be calm, but my nerves are jumbled.

He sighs heavy-heartedly, his head slumping forward as he shakes it. “It’s way worse than that, Ember. There’s so much more to it than just the torture.”

I recollect the death omen I saw, the blood staining the streets—blood that belonged to the entire town. “Please just tell me. I need to know what I have to face, if it comes down to that.”

When he raises his head, he has a heart-wrenching look on his face, like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His lips part. Words leave his mouth. Words he’s probably not supposed to tell me, yet somehow he manages to speak them. “In order for the battle between the Reapers and Angels to come to a complete end—which I’m not even sure how we get there—you’ll have to choose a side. You’ll pick between good and evil—pick the world’s fate, and then… you have to sacrifice the life of someone close to you with your own hands.” He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath before he speaks, his voice barely a whisper, but I still hear him as clear as day. “Someone you love.”

Chapter 13

I don’t say anything for a while. I can’t. My voice has drifted away like ash stolen by the wind. Sacrifice the life of someone I love. That’s where this is all leading if I end up being the last one standing.

“So, you’re saying that regardless of what happens—whether I choose Angels or Reapers—I’ll have to kill by sacrifice someone I love to make it all end?” I want to cry, yet my eyes refuse to produce tears.

Asher nods, watching me attentively. “Either way, you’ll have to face the choice.”

“I could never do it,” I whisper, setting the laptop to the side as I struggle to breathe. “I’m not a killer.” And I’m not even sure I’m in love with anyone.

He grabs my arm and guides me closer to him. “I know you’re not… I’m just telling you what I know about the battle.” His arms wrap around me and he pulls me in for a tight embrace.

I shake my head in astonishment, my arms pinned between us because I can’t seem to find the strength to lift them up to hug him back. “I couldn’t do it. Even if I’m the last one standing, I’ll never be able to go through with it.”

“I know,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “We’ll figure out something.”

“We don’t even know if I’ll be the last one.” I utter. “I’d have to… no… I can’t… I can’t be the last Grim Angel standing… I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, if I have to, even if I have to take my own life.”

“Ember.” Asher forces my body against his, tucking my head beneath his chin. “Don’t talk like that. We’ll find a way out of this, even if it ends up that you’re the last Grim Angel standing, I won’t let things end for you like that.”

“I’m not going to be the last one,” I insist, leaning away to meet his eyes. “There’s got to be another way... someone else has got to bear that burden. Not me.” It sounds like such a selfish thing to say and the moment it leaves my lips, I hate myself for saying it. Yet, I want it to be true.

“There has to be something else. Something I don’t know,” he mumbles to himself.

“But how can we find out? I mean, there’s hardly any information anywhere about Grim Angels.”

“I’m not sure…” He lets go of me with one hand and rubs his jawline. “We need to meet up with my uncle, not just so he can get the pages back on the book, but he also might know more about this than I do, considering he’s much older and wiser.”

“Well, I’m going to get a hold of August Millard still, just in case. Plus, he could know more.” I move out of his arms, reaching for my computer. Asher observes me with curiosity as I open up the browser and my inbox. My heart leaps when I see that I have one unopened message from an August Millard.

“Know more than me and my uncle?” Asher says with skepticism as he leans over my shoulder and squints at the screen. “I don’t want to be negative, but at the same time, this is just a guy that wrote a book.”

“A book that talks about ways to free people from possession,” I say, clicking on the message. “Do you know how to do that?”

He shakes his head with dissatisfaction. “I’ve never heard of a human being able to break their Reaper possession, unless the Reaper themselves break it. And I sure as hell haven’t heard of a Grim Angel’s soul getting possessed.”

“Well, this book explained it. Although, it was in Latin, so all I got was the intro.” I take a deep breath and read the message aloud. “Dear Miss Edwards, I’m so very please that you took the time to read my book and write me such a passionate letter. I would like to accept your request that we should meet up and discuss my research about Angels of Death and the Grim Reapers that walk amongst us. Please give me a call at your convenience.” At the bottom, he wrote his name and number. I glance over my shoulder at Asher who’s reading the screen. “Well, what do you think?”

A pucker forms at his brow as he reads the words on the screen again. “I think he sounds sketchy.”

I return my attention to the screen, hating that he might be right. “How do you figure?”

Asher’s shoulders lift and fall as he shrugs. “Because it’s too formal. ‘Discuss my research about Angels of Death and the Grim Reapers who walk amongst us’. And he offers to meet you way too easily.”

“Yeah, I was expecting it to be a little harder, but at the same time, I want to know what he knows.” I sigh and read the very short message over again, muttering, “I wonder where the hell he even lives.”

Asher points at the phone number down at the bottom of the screen. “Well, that’s a New York City area code,” he says.

“So he’s in New York City?” Where Asher thinks his mother is? Is it a coincidence?
I’m not sure, but for some reason I doubt it.

Asher gives a one-shouldered shrug. “That’s at least where he registered the phone to, but it doesn’t mean he lives there.” He pauses and then reaches for the computer on my lap. “Let me message him back and find out where he lives and we’ll go from there.” I hand him my laptop. “Then we’ll talk to my uncle and see what he knows—maybe we won’t even have to talk to him.”

For some reason, I don’t think it’s going to be that easy, especially when Asher’s uncle took the book in the first place and erased it. He might have just been protecting it, but at the same time, if I’ve learned anything, it’s never trust anyone.

And I know it’s a good thing to have August as backup, just in case all hell breaks loose.

Chapter 14

After Asher finishes the email to August, I shut the laptop and then give him my phone so he can call his uncle and see if he’s back from Jackson so we can go over there and talk. While he makes the call, I slip on my jacket, noting how sore my back has become. With each movement of my arms, my muscles ache in protest and I wonder just how bad the bruises are getting.

Asher sits on my bed, watching me lean over to tie one of my boots up with the phone pressed to his ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he says with a strange look on his face, distracting me from the pain. “I’d love to paint you sometime.”

I stand up straight, and tuck my hair behind my ear, feeling a little awkward at his intimate words. “Maybe when I’m not being stalked by the dead.” I head over to the trunk to get the book.

That gets him to smile. “Just think about it. I promise it won’t be a big deal.” His eyes devour me and make my skin flame hotter as I open the lid and get the book out. “You can even keep your clothes on.”

I open my mouth to say something witty back, but he holds up a finger, silencing me as he speaks into the phone. “Hey, Uncle Elliot. It’s Asher.” He pauses, listening to his uncle on the other end, the amusement in his expression diminishing the more time goes by. I close up the trunk then lean against the wall, hugging the book against my chest as Asher says, “Yeah, I figured you’d heard by now. Sorry I didn’t tell you on the phone last night I was just a little embarrassed they… stripped my wings.” He glances over his shoulders at his back. Oddly, my own shoulders lurch forward as a sharp pain shoots through my back, like I’m the one who just turned around and looked at it. His eyes settle on me the longer the conversation goes on. “Actually, I’m at Ember’s right now… why?” He grows quiet again as I reach around and rub my tender back muscles, my fingers nowhere as soothing as Asher’s touch. “Yeah, but why can’t we leave?”

The longer the conversation goes on, the more uneasy he gets, and the more my back hurts. Finally, I can’t take it anymore and I slide my hand up the back of my shirt, feeling around for feathers, but there is just the smoothness of my flesh. And the pain, it’s becoming unbearable, like my skin is melting off my body like wax.

I continue to keep my hand on my back while Asher chats on the phone, giving me random confused looks. Then the confusion erases as his gaze darts to the book in my arms with a concerned look on his face. “I’m not sure… I’ll have to ask Ember if she has it and she just left the house for a little bit to go look for her mother.”

I give him a funny look, which he returns with a warning glance, pressing for me to keep quiet. I recline against the dresser, watching him sink further into doubt. By the time he hangs up the phone, he looks like he’s about ready to flip out.

He leaps to his feet and takes the book from my hands. “We have to go now,” he says, tucking my phone into the back pocket of his jeans before grabbing my hand.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as he practically drags me into the hall as he takes swift, even strides. With every step my back muscles seem to be getting tighter. “Asher, what’s going on?”

He keeps walking, grasping onto my hand. “That wasn’t my uncle on the phone,” he says as we reach the stairs.

“Then who was it?” I ask as I trot down the stairs, working to stand up straight despite the overpowering urge to slant forward and fall to my knees.

“Well, it was him,” he corrects. “But he’s possessed by the Anamotti and I could hear someone in the background that sounded an awful lot like Alton.”

“Alton’s there with him?” Caught off guard, I almost trip down the stairs, but brace myself by grabbing onto the banister for support. “How can that be possible? And how can he be possessed when he is… was an Angel? Or is that why he can?”

Asher glances over his shoulder at me and I can see the worry he’s carrying and the distress. “Being banished makes us susceptible to possession.”

My guard suddenly goes up. Not only could Asher’s uncle be possessed but Asher could be as well.

“I’m me,” he says like he reads my mind. “I promise. And if they try to get to me like that, I’ll end myself.”

My eyes widen. “Asher, don’t talk—”

He covers my mouth with his hand. “I said I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you and I meant it.”

I want to argue with him, but I can tell by the look on his face that he’s made up his mind. “So now what do we do?

He stops in the center of the stairway, staring up at the window just above the door where lightning snaps across the sky and thunder booms. “We keep the book from him, until we can figure out what’s going on and out what’s on these pages… ” he trails off. “God, I could hear it in my uncle’s voice the moment he started talking. He sounded so...” He stops abruptly when we arrive at the bottom of the stairway and I bump into him. He whirls around and steadies me by the shoulders with a gracefulness that reminds me that, even though he isn’t an Angel of Death at the moment, he’s still not human. Letting go of my hand to hold up the book, he says, “He wanted this. In fact, he sounded like Gollum from Lord of the Rings, only instead of wanting the ring, he wants the book.” Asher balances it in his arms, opens it up and then flips through the blank pages.

We both stare at the pages for a moment as if the words will somehow miraculously appear on them. All the while, the clock in the background ticks while thunder booms.

“Dammit, we need to get my uncle’s blood to see what the hell he was trying to hide.” Sighing, Asher gives up and shuts the book while I start itching at my back, my skin is starting to coat with sweat, my nails scratching at the top layer of skin. “We need a place to hide out for a while until we can figure out a plan,” Asher says, putting the book under his arm. “Somewhere where the Anamotti will have a hard time finding us.”

“How about we hit the road and go to New York?” I ask, grabbing the car keys from the end table. “It would help keep the Anamotti away and we could talk to August. He might be able to tell us how to free the innocent souls that are possessed, and then we could put a stop to the madness in the town and the death waiting for everyone if Alton goes through with what I saw happen in the death omen.”

“Hitting the road isn’t a bad idea.” His head tips down as he looks at the book again, strands of his dark hair falling into his eyes. “But I’m still not sure we can trust this August guy.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to at least look into it.”

He sighs, giving in. “All right, grab some stuff and we’ll hit the road if he gets back to us. Then we can head out there after I try to track down some more information on him.”

I nod, glad he’s giving in. Then I rush back to my room and pack my bags while Asher waits on the stairway, watching the front door like he’s afraid someone’s going to barge in. I make sure to pack my lap top and leave a vague note to my mom just in case she returns and cares that I’m gone.

By the time I go back to Asher, he looks so worried that his skin has gotten noticeably paler. His eyes meet mine as I walk down the stairs with the bag slung over my shoulder and when I reach the bottom, he grabs my hand and we hurry to the door.

Something occurs to me as Asher opens the front door. “Asher, how can you be helping me right now when you couldn’t in the past? Is it because you’re banished?”

Wind gusts through my hair and a drizzle of rain escapes into the foyer as the door swings open. “No, even though I’m partially free from my Angel blood, I still could get in a lot of trouble for helping you right now,” he says, not upset, but sort of relieved.

I tuck my hair behind my ear to keep it from blowing in my face. “Then why are you?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead he leads me outside and into the rain bucketing down from the angry sky. Asher keeps walking while holding onto me, but then he stops just short of the grass to spin around to face me. “Because I’m saying fuck the rules,” he says with passion emitting with every syllable. “I don’t give a shit anymore. About any of this.” He swings his arm around, gesturing at the land. “It’s not fair that you were created to bare our sins and I’m not going to let you suffer anymore, regardless of what happens to me.” He cups my cheeks in his hand and I swear to god I can hear his heart hammering in his chest. “All I want is you safe. I should have been keeping you safe this entire time.” Rain drenches his hair, beads his skin, soaks his clothes and makes them cling to his body.

My stomach flutters at the sight of him and his powerful words. Emotions surface inside me that are potent, intoxicating. I’ve never felt anything like them before and it makes it too complex to control—difficult to keep inside— it’s hard not to just let them pour out of me like the rain. I don’t think it’s love, but I wonder where my emotions for Asher are going. If at the end of this, I will be in love with him, and if at the conclusion of all of this, I’ll have to kill him to save humanity and their souls.

“All right, let’s hit the road then,” I call out over the thunder and my shaky voice reveals that I’m feeling something powerful. “At least until we can figure out how to save the town.”

Asher looks like he notices it, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he nods and grabs my hand again, his skin cold from the rain. Then we head for the car in the driveway, side-by-side beneath the rain. It’d seem like the perfect moment except for the thunder booming above us and there are people standing all over the grass.

“Shit,” Asher and I say, noticing them at the exact same time. We stop dead in our tracks at the brink of the driveway as more people emerge. They aren’t regular people. They’re possessed; their expressions numb, eyes glowing through the veil of rain, and their hands are held lifelessly at their sides. I recognize a few of them as my neighbors. The two policemen that are always stalking me stand with them, too. However some of them I’ve never seen before; they’ve been drawn in from town, I’m guessing, but why?

Deep down, I think I might know the answer, but I don’t want to accept it just yet. Accept what the burn on my back means or why the Anamotti have suddenly stepped up their game.

As I stare at the thickening crowd, at the people wandering in from each side of the street, I spot another person that I recognize. She’s tall and thin, and has dark hair that runs down her shoulders in waves. She’s wearing a long, floral dress and her lips that were once red are blue. I went to school with her up until a week ago when her body was found near the riverbank only a half a mile from my father’s crime scene.

Her lips curl into a smile as I look at her and for a second I think she’s going to beg me to help her like the other dead girl did, but all she says is, “Hey, Ember. It’s nice to see you again,” she says with a little wave. Vomit burns at the back of my throat at the sight of her fingerless hand. “Alton says, ‘Hi’ and that ‘he’ll see you soon.’”

My jaw drops as Asher’s hand tightens around mine. “We have to get out of here…” His focus is secured on the people gathering in large numbers. “Quickly.” He blinks his eyes away from them and then we’re running to the car, puddles splashing below our feet while thunder and lightning crack above us and rain hammers down. Like at school, the people don’t move, letting the rain drench them as they watch us, waiting for something.

When we reach my mom’s car parked in the driveway, we climb in and I start the engine. Asher drags his fingers through his soaked hair and pushes it back from his face. We buckle our seatbelts without saying anything and then I put the car in reverse. When I check the mirror, I see that the people have migrated from the lawn to the end of the driveway, making it impossible to back up.

“What should I do?” I ask as Asher rotates around in the seat to look behind us at the forming group.

He deliberates, measuring the thickness of the crowd. “I think we should just go. Test them and see if they get out of the way.”

I grip the shifter with one hand and the steering wheel with the other. “And what if they don’t move?”

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps. “Then bump them with your car.”

“I can’t do that,” I say, alarmed. “They’re still people, despite the fact that they’re possessed.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he mutters, turning around in his seat and tilting his head to check out the side window. “Just drive up on the grass.”

“You want me to hot rod it over the front lawn?” I question, eyeballing down the perfect path just between the house and the edge of the group.

He places the book on his lap and puts a hand on top of it like he’s afraid to let it go. “If you don’t feel comfortable enough doing it, I can trade places with you.”

I tap the gas pedal, giving it a little throttle. “No, I’m good. In fact, I’m sort of looking forward to doing it.”

His pierced brow shoots up as his head whips in my direction. “I’m a little surprised you’re not slightly afraid, considering you crashed your car into a lake.”

I pump the gas a few more times and the car starts to inch down the driveway. “My dad loved working on cars,” I say. “And hot rodding them.” I crane the wheel. “He actually used to steal them with me in the car.”

“Seriously?” Asher gapes at me.

I give a little shrug. “As embarrassing as it is, it was sort of like a father/daughter bonding thing.”

I rotate the wheel in the other direction when the back end reaches the people. They don’t even move out of my way. Then, pressing on the gas, the tires squeal as the car lurches forward. I burn rubber; the tires tear up the grass, splattering mud and rain all over the windows. I have to flip the wipers on from the sheer magnitude of debris that suddenly covers the windshield.

I’m enjoying myself a little bit as I pull away from my house, not too surprised that I’m sort of relieved to be leaving the stillness of it behind. Then I spot someone in the crowd that makes me slam on the brakes. The car lurches to a stop and my hands start to shake as I stare at my mom standing just to the side of the car in the midst of the horde of people. She’s dressed in old jeans and an overly large t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a messy bun and her skin bare of makeup, looking pale. There’s no doubt it’s her, though.

“Mom,” I whisper and my foot that’s holding down the brake starts to tremble, causing the car to roll forward again. I quickly reach over and shove it into park then take my foot off the brake.

Asher tracks my gaze to her standing in the crowd. “That’s your mom?”

I slowly nod, my fingers fumbling to find the buckle of the seatbelt. “Yeah, but what’s she doing out there with them…” I trail off as the buckle unclicks and then suddenly, I’m moving in fast motion, reaching for the door handle, ready to jump out.

“Ember, wait.” Asher snags my arm and stops me. “Don’t get out.”

I jerk my arm, but he doesn’t let go. “Asher, let me go. It’s my mom out there…” I look at her through the windshield and she’s looking at me, her expression not numb like the rest of them, however it is horribly morose. “Please, I need to see her, to see if she’s okay.”

My mom lifts her hand and waves, though there’s something robotic about her movements, something about it shatters me inside. Then she places her hand on the base of her neck and that’s when I see the marks. Or more like wounds that look like they were inflicted by a knife or a rope. There’s also an X on her forehead. When I realize what that means, I start to freak out, pushing and shoving at Asher to let me go, but he keeps holding onto me with unbreakable strength. I hear him say something, but I’m veering towards shock because it looks like my mom is dead.

“Asher, let me go. Please!” I start to cry, hysterically sobbing as he pulls me against him with the console between us. Mascara is running down my cheeks. “Oh, my God, she’s dead… Please tell me she’s not dead.”

Asher doesn’t respond and I lose it, tears cascading out of my eyes. These last couple of days she’s been missing and I’ve been walking around, thinking she was out on the streets somewhere, but the entire time, she’s been dead.

God, no.

My shoulders heave with each sob as I continue to cry, losing touch with reality, drifting into a state of devastation as I stare out the window at her. The people start to close in on the car, narrowing the space around us, taking the upper hand. Then through the rain, shadows appear, flying and soaring around the car. They look just like the ones I saw in my room; wisps of darkness that gracefully soar. Asher starts to curse when he spots them and it feels like I should be terrified, but the pain of my mother overrides it and all I feel is sorrow.

I can’t take it anymore.

I can’t breathe.

I need to help her.

With more strength than I thought I possessed, I shove Asher away from me. He startles back, his back hitting the door. I seize the opportunity to hop out of the car. Rain slams against my skin, like icy needles, and I shield my eyes, searching for my mom. I find her standing just at the front of the car, a neutral expression on her face.

“Ember, get in the car,” Asher orders as he jumps out of the other side. He looks at me from over the roof, blinking fiercely against the rain. “I’m sorry this happened, but you have to remember that she isn’t really your mom anymore.”

I look at him and then my mother, torn on what to do. I want to go to her, but at the same time, I know Asher’s right. I know that’s not really her, just what’s left of her.

God, I can’t believe she’s dead.

I tell myself I can do this and start to turn back to the open door of the car. Asher seems relieved, lowering his head to get back in, but then my mom calls out my name and I freeze.

“Ember, help me,” she says. When I look at her, the vacancy in her eyes has dwindled and she resembles the same mom I saw right before I took her life. Helpless. Lost. Possessed. Under no control of her own. “Please, don’t let me go like this,” she begs.

I run to her, unable to control myself, unable to admit that this is her ghost and not her. Asher shouts out my name, but I don’t care. My feet hammer against the ground and raindrops sting at my skin. As I get closer, the mob surrounds her, packing their bodies tighter together, like their trying to block me from getting to her. I shove each one out of the way, feeling their death course through me, all of them the same. Blackness. Pain. Good-bye. Please don’t leave me. I can’t. Everything hurts. Capes and feathers showering from the sky. All over the town. Blood filling the streets that are filled with bodies. So many bodies. So many deaths. Thousands. I can feel them pouring through me like a river of needles. One Reaper stands in the middle of it feasting off the souls of the bodies, growing more powerful. Broad shoulders, blonde hair, a scraggily jawline, he stands tall in the center of the blood, craving more souls. More power. More control over the town he runs.

I can’t stay on my feet as the death replays in my head. I stretch my hand out to my mother, wanting her to reach me as the people bump and touch me from all sides. She just gazes at me, though, sort of the same way she looked at me when I killed my grandmother, like she hates me. Fears me. Wants to disown me.

“You know, I always knew you were going to be trouble,” she says as I’m lurched around, glowing eyes everywhere, smothering me as the rain slams down against my skin. “The moment I found out I was pregnant I was disgusted. I saw what being a Grim Angel made your grandfather. A monster; the same thing it made your father, crazy and killing innocent people. No wonder you’re alone in the world. No one can stand you. The fucked up girl that can see death.” Each one of her words hits me like razors under my skin, the pain wanting to escape, but it’s stuck inside. “No wonder I didn’t come home. I’d rather rot in a ditch somewhere than be near you.”

Her words strangle me as though they’re invisible fingers wrapping around my neck. It hurts, but at the same time, I can’t entirely feel the hurt because it’s mixing with the horrid images of the entire town’s death as the mayor stands in the middle of it all.

I can’t breathe. Think. See. I go down. Hard. My knees sinking into the dirt. Legs slam into me. Feet stomp on me. Elbows jab me in the head. Something stabs at my neck, trying to tear off my necklace, but I smack them away.

“Help me,” I whisper, but I’m not even sure I know who I’m speaking to. Someone hears me, though, because I’m abruptly swept up into a pair of very strong arms and cradled against a very sturdy chest.

I think its Asher, but when I look up, I swear I see gleaming eyes beneath a hood and a speck of blonde hair peeking out. I must be hallucinating because Cameron would never help me like this. Moments later, I feel myself being carried away while the feeling of death diminishes with each step. I shut my eyes and let the fall of rain wash away my internal agony, let the quiet seep into my unsettled heart.

“What are you doing here?” Asher asks, but I’m not sure who he’s talking to.

“Saving your ass.” It sounds like Cameron, but again, that can’t be possible. He would never help me nor would he speak to Asher in such a way.

“Give her to me,” Asher says coldly. There’s a pause and then I feel myself being transferred into the arms of another.

I open my mouth to protest, but the feeling of the death omen has worn me out, drained me passed the point of being able to open my eyes. Footsteps thud against the ground and warm lips brush against my head. I hear a door open and then feel myself being lowered into the car. I think they’re going to set me down, though instead they climb in, still holding me. A door slams. Then another. The feel of rain leaves my body and warm air kisses my skin, yet I still feel unbelievably cold inside, like ice has surrounded my bruised heart and soul.

Banging starts to fill up the air around me and the cab of the car gets darker and darker as it begins to vibrate. I clutch onto Asher, feeling his heart thrashing inside his chest. Somehow, through my numbness, I start to cry; tears shed in an attempt to try and alleviate some of the agonizing pressure wearing a hole in my heart.

“It’ll be okay,” Asher whispers in my ear as he pulls me closer to him.

More tears fall. More pain stabs within me, splits me open, and I’m not even sure if it’s from seeing the death of the town or if it stems from my mother’s cold words. Or maybe it’s because she’s dead and that’s the last thing she’ll ever say to me.

“Please, try to relax,” Asher utters, smoothing his hand over my wet hair. “I know it’s hard, but I’m here with you. You’re not alone.”

The feel of the heat of his body and knowing he’s here with me calms me down enough that I don’t want to move, crying tear after tear, telling myself that wasn’t her out there. That it was the Anamotti’s words. However it’s hard to convince myself when she’d said stuff to me like that when she was alive.

Still, wanting to be stronger, I eventually stop crying. I clutch onto the front of Asher’s shirt with my eyes closed, breathing in and out as I focus on that instead of everything else going on, yet still, the ache slips through.

“It hurts,” I whisper as Asher rubs my back.

“I know,” he replies, his voice hoarse as he places another kiss on my head. “Just try to breathe.”

I want to tell him that even breathing seems hard, but then I realize that the car is moving and that, unless Asher is holding me while he’s driving, someone else is in the car with us. I already think I know who it is; the person that pulled me out of the crowd.

Cameron.

What I don’t get is why. Why he tried to help me. Why Asher’s letting him help me. It takes a lot of energy to lift my head, but I manage to do so, and then my swollen eyes snap wide. Cameron’s in the driver’s seat, grasping the wheel as he speeds the car down the street of our neighborhood, which is lined with people. All the while, Asher seems perfectly content with it.

“What’s going on?” I mutter, instantly slammed with a spout of exhaustion, my head bobbing around like a bobble head.

“Get out of the car, Cameron.” I hear Asher say, but I can’t see him or anything, my eyelids lowering of their own accord.

“You seriously want me to stop? In the middle of this?” he asks. “They’ll end her if I do. Now that they’ve gotten her whole family to give into the Reaper side, they’re going to torture her until she breaks. And you know as well as I do that right now she’s going to break very easily.”

Asher’s conflicted, but finally gives in. “Fine,” he replies through gritted teeth. I hear the car tires squeal, the car accelerating. “At least stop taking all of her energy away. You know that’s forbidden with a Grim Angel.”

“Just like you know it’s forbidden to touch one the way you have,” Cameron retorts, giving the car a slight swerve.

“Right now, I’m under no rules,” Asher says quietly, hugging me closer to him.

“Ah, so it is true,” he says. “Being banished allows you to overlook your ridiculous goody-two-shoes Angel rules.”

“More or less, but I’m guessing it’ll catch up with me when Michael finds out,” Asher mumbles, his muscles going rigid. “But you need to stop breaking the rules right now and let her wake up.”

I’m not even asleep, I want to say, yet my lips are numb—tingling again—and heat is starting to spread up my back. I feel like I’m burning up with a fever. Maybe the rain did it to me? Or maybe I’m sick because my heart is broken.

“She’s hysterical right now.” Irritation laces Cameron’s tone. “And she’s only going to get more hysterical when she wakes up and feels the full blunt of what happened back there.”

“She’s fine,” Asher snaps. “You’re just using this is an excuse to get to her.”

“What’s going on…?” I struggle to speak with my head slumped against Asher’s chest. “Why are you two… talking to each other…?”

“She just found out her mom is dead and her soul is with the Reapers,” Cameron says at the same time that I hear the engine rev louder. “Do you really think she’s going to handle that very well, especially after she just found out her brother gave into the Reaper side and gave up his position as a Grim Angel? Besides, now she’s going to find out about us.”

“She doesn’t need to find out about that.” Asher’s voice is low, carrying a threat as his arms fasten tighter around me while his cold, wet shirt presses against my hot cheek. “We made an agreement to never talk about that—to never accept what we are.”

“So you just want to keep lying to her?” Cameron questions with disdain. “How typical of you. Honestly, I was sort of hoping that you getting kicked out of your Angel clan would have knocked some sense into you.”

“And how typical of you to think she even wants to know about this,” he says venomously. “Sometimes not knowing everything is a good thing. There’s only so much a person can handle before they break.”

Cameron laughs maliciously. “In case you haven’t noticed, she always wants to know the truth.”

“Not necessarily,” he tells him. I know he’s thinking about the time when I told him I didn’t want to hear about the Anamotti, back when he took me to the Angel statue, back when everything was normal. “Sometimes she just wants to be normal.”

He’s so right, and at the moment, despite all the craziness going on, I want to hug him, however my arms feel heavy, stuck on my lap, and all I can do is cuddle up and breathe him in.

“I think she might be sick,” Asher says as his palm touches my forehead. “She’s burning up.”

“Maybe she’s the last Grim Angel standing,” Cameron says in a derisive, joking tone. “And her Reaper and Angel blood are about to manifest.”

“You don’t even know what exactly happens if she is the last one standing. You just speculate like everyone else does,” he states, removing his hand from my forehead. “No one, except our leaders, knows for sure what will happen once the last one is left, other than the sacrifice.”

“I think—” Cameron abruptly stops talking and I feel the car swerve to the side.

I’m jolted by the force, my fingers digging into the fabric of Asher’s shirt as I hang on for dear life. Then the car realigns itself and we start to slow down, allowing me to relax.

“Shit, don’t run him over,” Asher says, leaning forward, moving me with him.

I try to open my eyelids, but they won’t move. Then the car’s engine growls as the gas pedal gets slammed to the floor.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Cameron asks. “If we don’t, we’re going to get taken out by the mob.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Asher growls. “He’s still our uncle.”

What the hell? He’s still our uncle.

“Only by blood,” Cameron says calmly. “And you’re the one who can’t fly at the moment if anything happens. I’ll be perfectly flying off, leaving you two behind—”

His voice is overlapped by the sound of glass breaking and metal bending. Brakes squeal and the smell of burning rubber fills up the air. It reminds me of the time when I drove my car into the lake. When I died. I wonder if I’m going to die again, if the necklace will protect me. I wonder if this is the moment Cameron saw and why he gave me the necklace.

I feel myself spinning, or maybe it’s the car, then I hear voices, yet I’m not sure if they’re coming from inside my head or around me. I sense the wind and rain brushing up against my skin at the same time that heat and cold mix inside me. Death feasts on my veins as Asher’s touch leaves me and suddenly I feel all alone, the necklace around my neck feeling like it’s singeing my skin.

There’s a brief pause where I wonder what’s going to happen next and then my back slams against something hard and a rough surface tears open my skin. I feel my life leave me and then return again, the pendant getting hotter and hotter. Cameron was right—death was in my near future.

Jesus, that means he saved me.

Rain covers my body as water soaks my hair and my clothes, stinging the open wounds on my arms and legs. Thunder rumbles. The ground gets moister. And questions race through my mind. Where am I? What happened? Why does my body feel so strange; it’s not because of the death, but could it be because of the sudden freedom I feel?

It takes a lot of effort, but I finally get my eyes to open and slowly try to make sense of where I am. The first thing I see are dark clouds and then, as I tilt my head, I see the bridge that goes over the river in town. There are hundreds of people standing on it, staring down at me.

It feels like I should be afraid of the ominous feeling in the air, but my senses are focused on other stuff; sounds, sights, smells. I can hear the sound of water and the soft pitter-patter of raindrops splattering against the ground. I can feel the coldness of the water absorbing into my skin, although the heat that’s consuming my body overpowers it. I’m not sure how I got here. Or where the car is. Or Asher. Or Cameron.

I start to sit up, but pause halfway when my vision flickers. For a second I see another world. One where the stream remains before me, the bridge to my side, yet everything is tinted red and shadows dance everywhere. I blink my eyes several times, hearing the up and down movement of my eyelids, then everything goes back to normal.

I grasp my throbbing head as I sit up the rest of the way and that’s when I feel my skin split open. The sound of my tearing flesh is like nails on a chalkboard. Pressure builds between my shoulder blades while my muscles tighten. Knot. Protest. Then I hear the rip of the fabric belonging to my jacket. Seconds later, it falls off of me, and the only thing remaining are the sleeves. My back gets pushed up, straightened, lifted. For a brief instant, I think I’m going to fly away. I feel wind sweep up behind me and weight pull me back; it’s almost as though a bag of bricks has been tied to my back.

I don’t want to look because I think I already know what’s occurred. I can’t stop myself from needing to know if I’m right, though. I breathe through the heaviness and then progressively turn my head to look over my shoulder. Just as I suspected, a pair of wings rise out of my back and point to the sky. Beautiful black feathers, almost like Asher’s except for the trim of them are hued with red, like each one has been dipped in blood.

“Why…” It’s all I can get out of me, too astounded to process what just happened, what I’ve become. Although it’s not written out in front of me, I’m pretty sure I know what this means.

That the battle is veering to an end.

And I’m the last Grim Angel standing.

Chapter 15

I stumble to my feet, wanting to run away from the sight, but it follows me. They’re attached to my back and take my balance away. I collapse to my knees on the gravel, my skin splitting open, the river washing over to me.

Fearing what’s about to happen, I glance over at the bridge to see what the mob is doing, only to see that they’re heading down the slope just beneath the bridge, sliding in the loose gravel as they come for me. I don’t know enough about the battle to know what’s going to happen next, but I have a feeling that the last thing I want is to be captured by them.

I struggle to get to my feet again and manage to get my legs under me this time, but as soon as I take a step, the weight of the wings tilt me back and I tip over, straight onto my back. The sky grumbles above me and my vision snaps again like the lightning, red tinting everything as shadows swarm through the clouds.

My cheeks soak with raindrops as I flip my body, endeavoring to roll to the side, yet the wings below me won’t allow it and I spring right back over. Rain hits me in the eyes as I hear the footsteps of the mob growing closer. I reach for the sky, wishing I could fly, but I have no idea how. Plus, it looks like its bleeding. Everything does until I blink again, hearing the flutter of my eyelids before the world returns to its normal color.

It gives me back a little hope and motivation. I summon up every amount of strength I have to lift myself to a sitting position when one of my wings starts to flap on its own and I’m wrenched to the side, tumbling into the muddy ground again. I catch a glimpse of the people that are very close now, and note the man dressed in black, leading them along.

They mayor—leader of the Reapers—is coming for me.

This is bad.

Very bad.

“Give me your hand.” Asher’s voice sends elation through me and my gaze eagerly searches through the rain for him.

He’s standing just to the side of me with his hand extended out to me, a sort of awestruck look on his face as he takes in my wings. Cameron is just behind him, dressed in his normal clothes, although they’re drenched and cling to his muscular body. He’s watching me with wonder and curiosity with the book in his hands, which is something I don’t understand, yet I know now is not the time to question.

“I’m sorry,” I say to Asher for reasons I don’t understand then I reach out to him and slip my fingers through his.

With one swift tug, he pulls me to my feet and I stumble into his arms, unable to keep my stability. He grips onto me, his arms wrapping around my lower back while his fingers tickle the wet feathers that belong to my wings.

“Hold on,” he whispers in my ear and I obey without arguing. “Ready?” he asks. I don’t think he’s speaking to me. He’s asking Cameron.

“I’m always ready,” Cameron says. “She’s the one I’m worried about. And you. You’re too used to flying and they’re going to chase us.”

“I’ll be fine… and we don’t have time to help her prepare. We need to get as far away from here as we can.” No sooner have the words left his lips than I hear the sound of a voice flowing from the distance, calling out. When I glance over, I see the mob and the leader of the Anamotti closing in on us.

A lot of them are pure Anamotti, the X’s on their bodies branding them for what they are along with the black cloaks they’re wearing. There are also many possessed humans, some of whom I know. Raven. My brother. My mother. Even Asher’s uncle is there. God, Alton’s got the   entire town in the palm of his hands and I wonder how long it’ll be until he kills them all.

“We have to go. Now,” Asher demands.

“Where are we going?” I gaze up at him, rain dripping against my eyes.

He gives me a small smile, I think trying to comfort me, but I can tell the sight of me is making him nervous. It’s making me nervous as well. “Somewhere safe.”

A few booms of thunder later, I see a snap of lightning throw silver streaks across the sky. Then the snap of something else rings loudly and suddenly I’m being thrown. Or maybe I’m being lifted upward. Flying. Falling. It’s hard to tell. All I know is that Asher is holding onto me, our bodies pressed so closely together that his heat mixes with mine. Blackness is swirling around us like a funnel. I can still see the river, the bridge, and the entire town below us along with the car crunched up in the bushes just to the side of the riverbank, but it’s in the distance as I realize we’re floating into the sky.

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.”

I glance over at the shadow wall where my dad was, but it’s now gone and then I look at the ground below me. Even though it kills me, I stop fighting, letting the drowsiness take over. My heart is being ripped apart all over again; just like the first time he disappeared.

Chapter 16

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.

Chapter 17

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.

I push the blankets off me, fighting to keep my body upright against the protest of my wings that flutter uncontrollably and bump against the wall behind me. “What happened?”

He walks to the middle of the room cautiously as he skims over my wings, desire filling his eyes and making my skin tingle. “Cameron put you in a state of sleepiness.” He sighs, unfolding his arms. “It’s a stupid Reaper thing.”

I shake my head, trying to find the nerves that control my wings to stop them from fluttering. “No, not that…” I rub my eyes several times as red creeps into my vision again. “I mean, what the hell happened back there? With the shadows… and you were talking to Cameron like that… Why?”

He takes long strides to my bedside and he still seems nervous and tense as he shifts his weight uneasily. Then, with reluctance, he sinks down beside the bed as if he’s bowing before me. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

I bend one of my knees up and wrap my arms around it to hold up my body. “I figured as much.”

“And I’m sorry for that.” He pauses, studying me with a look that makes my skin heat and my temper flare, but the rage is directed more at myself. “Remember how I told you that I had to make a choice whether I wanted to be a Reaper or Angel of Death?” he asks and I nod. “Well, I left out an important part of the story.”

I frown as I slant forward, trying to get more room for my wings. “I’m guessing it has to do with Cameron.”

He nods, his gaze flicking to my wings, and for a fleeting moment, yearning flashes across his face. I half expect him to grab me and take me here on the bed… which doesn’t sound so bad, yet at the same time, it does.

“It does have to do with Cameron.” He fiddles with his eyebrow piercing as he chooses his words carefully. “Cameron was faced with a choice, too.” He pauses again and I feel the tension. “Because he’s my brother. My twin brother.”

It takes a second or two for what he’s saying to register. Between everything that’s happened, I think I’ve entered a state of shock and it makes it hard to process things that seem so unrealistic.

When I speak, my voice comes out strangely calm. “So, he chose his Reaper blood,” I say. The story sounds strangely like my own story; whether I choose evil or good, Reaper or Angel, I now have an example of each. Of what I could become depending on what I choose. And now I have to choose. The wings growing out of my back are proof, but why just wings? Where’s the sign of my Reaper blood?

“My mother had us both and we both faced the same decision,” Asher explains, pressing his lips together when my wings tremble for no given reason. I keep waiting for him to say something, however it’s like he’s afraid to. “I chose to accept my Angel blood and he chose to accept his Reaper blood.”

“So you were—are—brothers,” I say, still processing that all this time they’ve been brothers. All this time both of them have omitted the truth from me. I’m not sure how I feel about it—whether I should feel anything about it—because it seems like there’s so many more things to worry about; worse things.

He nods. “Sadly, we are.”

The past starts to make a little more sense. Why they were always fighting so much. Granted, they are Reaper and Angel, but being brothers makes things more complicated. “So does he know who your dad is?”

He shakes his head, his eyes fixed on mine. “It’s the downfall of having a Reaper as a dad—they don’t make the best fathers. Besides, ours… well, he didn’t want anything to do with us.”

His sadness begins to get to me and I tentatively put a hand on his unshaven cheek, trying to comfort him even though I want to be comforted as well. “I’m sorry. Not just for your father and not knowing exactly who he is, but for Cameron being your brother.”

His lips tip up into the most depressing smile I’ve ever seen. “You don’t need to feel bad for me; you have your own family problems, too, and I lied to you.”

It feels like I should be more furious with him, but at the same time, I’m not sure I’d want to admit Cameron was my brother, either. “Asher, my mom… I saw her back in the crowd…” I force back the impending tears. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” I ask it as a question, but I already know the answer. “Was she a Grim Angel too… she said something about my grandfather being one.”

“I’m not sure…” He hesitates, but then something flashes in his eyes—false hope maybe. Then he swiftly shakes his head and grabs my legs, pulling me to him. “We don’t know for sure that she’s dead,” he says, his hands sliding up across the fabric of my torn up jeans until they reach my hips. “It could easily be the Anamotti messing with your head.”

“But it might not be, especially since you thought I was pure blood.” Deep breaths. Keep breathing. My mom might have not been the greatest mom in the world, but the thought of losing another parent aches inside my heart, burns in my soul, makes me feel so alone.

“I’m not sure. I can try and find out though, but it’ll probably take some time.” He pauses, conflicted. “I just want to make sure you prepare yourself for what I find out.”

“You mean, prepare myself for if she’s dead.” My bluntness shocks him, however he quickly composes himself and nods. “Prepare myself for another loss of a family member.” An excruciating revelation clicks inside my head. If I ended up choosing the right side through all of this, I’ll still end up alone if my mom is dead.

“I don’t know why you’re giving her false hope,” Cameron says, materializing in the doorway, looking as though he just showered and shaved; his skin is smooth, his blonde hair perfectly styled and his black shirt and jeans unwrinkled. “You know as well as I do that that wasn’t a joke. That her mother is probably dead…. That Ember has pure blood and that’s how she’s the last one standing…” He shuts his eyes and inhales deeply. “I can feel her mother’s soul in the air, along with a ton of other’s, waiting to be collected.” He reopens his eyes. “Lucky for her, the Reapers seem to be preoccupied with tracking you down at the moment, so her soul has some time left in her body, but still, she’s dead.”

“Well, maybe you can bring her back then,” I say, knowing I’m treading thin water here. “Like you did with that guy in the alley.”

He elevates his eyebrows at me with amusement dancing in his eyes. “You want to pay that price again?” He smirks, looking over my body from head to toe and it feels like he’s touching me, yet he’s not. “Only this time it’s much higher.”

I scowl at him, but part of me wants to run up and hug him—thank him for saving me by giving me the necklace. “What are you doing here?” I glance back at Asher “You said Reaper’s couldn’t come here?”

Cameron rolls his eyes, strutting through the doorway like he owns the place. “Full Reaper’s can’t, but half Reaper, half Angel’s can.”

“I don’t understand.” I look back and forth between the two of them. “Where are we?”

Asher and Cameron exchange a look and then Asher sighs. “Remember how I said that I spend most of my time in a place my mind creates, the one that I lived in. Sort of like an in between… well, we’re there.”

“In your mind?” I ask, flabbergasted.

Asher wavers. “Sort of, but not exactly.”

“Think of it as a place that belongs to only one person,” Cameron says. “And that one person can create whatever they want, build it however they want, and only let in whoever they want.”

“It sounds like a video game,” I remark with a frown.

“You could look at it that way,” Cameron says.

“Well who built this place?” I wonder.

Asher points at himself. “I did.”

“Then why is he here.” I aim a finger at Cameron. “When all he’s done is torture me.”

“You really believe that?” Cameron questions with speculation, eyeballing the necklace on my neck. “Plus, I helped you out back there, all because I care for you,” Cameron says as Asher cringes. “Despite what you think.”

“I don’t think anything,” I mutter, hating that I feel connected to both of them. That, at the moment, I feel a tug-o-war with my emotions; wanting to cave into Cameron, but also melt into Asher.

“Sure you don’t.” Cameron stops just short of the bed, right beside Asher. His face contorts with disgust. “Nice wings, by the way.” His face pinches as he stares at them. “It’s a disgusting look for you.” His head cocks to the side. “Although I do love the eyes.”

My fingers shoot up to my face and I gently touch the skin around them. “What’s wrong with my eyes?” Right on cue, red fills my vision again. For a moment, it looks like the walls are bleeding.

Cameron stares at the back of Asher’s head like he’s mentally compelling him to turn around and look at him. “Do you want to tell her or do you want me to?”

I look at Asher who’s looking at me gravely. “I don’t want to tell her at all,” he says with remorse.

“Well, she’s going to see eventually,” he steps aside and gestures to the mirror hanging on the wall, “so she might as well get it over with.”

I wait for Asher to say something, but he conclusively rises to his feet with a gut-wrenching look on his face as he backs away from me. At first, I think he’s trying to get away from me, but then he holds out his hand for me to take.

Nerves bubble inside my body as I take his offered hand. As he helps me to my feet, I start to tip back, but he pulls me forward, helping me balance.

“Keep your shoulders up,” he says, demonstrating by lifting his own. “It’ll help a little.”

I nod and then raise my shoulders higher, my chest sticking out and bearing more of the weight. Then, with his eyes fastened on mine, he backs up towards the mirror, guiding me along with him, taking small steps as I struggle to stay on my feet. When we reach it, he blocks my view for a moment, reluctant to let me see, but after a lot of mental deliberating, he irrevocably steps to the side and out of the way.

I inch forward, moving slowly until my reflection appears before me.

Wings of black and red.

Tall and strong.

Though shoulders curled in

Cursed with weight.

Eyes like ash.

Skin like snow.

Lips blood red.

Dark lines

Veined with death

Beneath black eyes.

Linked with the evil side

But below the surface

Good still thrives

Smoldering like cinders

Desperate to burn

Yet the chill inside

Won’t allow it

“Oh, my God,” I breathe, reaching for my face and running my fingers beneath my black eyes that don’t belong to me, yet somehow do. “I’m hideous.”

Asher moves up to the side of me and his reflection joins mine in the mirror, looking even more perfect beside my mutated self. “You’re not hideous. You’re beautiful.”

I shake my head, cringing at the lack of emotion my eyes portray. “Look at my eyes.”

“I think they are the best part,” Cameron remarks, stepping up to the other side of me, his reflection joining ours in the mirror.

We stand there together, taking in the sight of me. An Angel on one side and a Reaper on the other. My body feels drawn to both, my blood linked to both. Suddenly, I realize why everyone kept saying I’d have to make a choice between good or evil. At the time, I always thought that there was no way it could even be a choice. That good would win, no matter what.

Yet now, standing here with both sides by me, I can tell it’s going to be hard. I belong to both sides. Reaper and Angel. Good and bad.

I am the balance of both.

I am the Grim Angel.

“So does this mean I’m the last one?” I ask, turning around to look at Asher.

He glances at my wings as he slowly nods. “It does.”

His words slam hard against my chest, yet there’s an invisible shield that protects me, one that belongs to my Reaper side and doesn’t let me feel the fear I want to.

“What do I do now?” I ask. “I mean, how do I make the choice?” And what choice do I make? I start to panic. “I’m not even sure I can make that choice yet… do that…”

Asher places a hand on my shoulder in comforting gesture and then glances at Cameron. “There’s a little bit more to it than that, Ember.”

Cameron bumps my wings out of the way as he leans over my shoulder, invading my personal space and knocks Asher’s hand off my shoulder. “From what I understand, Michael and Alton are supposed to come down to earth for the end of the battle, let the Grim Angel make the choice, make her sacrifice,” he glances over at Asher with a grin, “Whoever that might be.” His eyes land on me. “But I don’t think things are going to happen exactly that way at the moment since my leader is pretty content with feeding off the souls of Hollows Grove.” He makes a face, like he’s upset about this and he probably is considering what he told me about his family, which come to think of it would also be Asher’s family. “In fact, I think he’ll probably drag this on as long as possible, at least that’s what everyone was whispering about in the shadow realm.” I loathe how my body responds to the words our leader. “Of course that book you were harboring for my dear double-crossing uncle could help at least put that problem to rest.”

“Elliot didn’t double cross us,” Asher argues, reaching over my shoulder and pushing Cameron away from me. “He was just possessed.”

“You say, Angel.” Cameron staggers back, but quickly composes himself, and glances in the mirror. “I say, Reaper. You know it’s really hard to tell sometimes.” He admires his reflection vainly.

“No it’s not. They’re completely different,” Asher retorts with hate in his eyes that’s entirely directed at his brother.

Cameron arches his brow in my direction. “Really? Because she’s kind of walking proof that the two coexist.”

Asher shakes his head, fury radiating from him, but it starts to fizzle after a moment or two goes by. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “We just need to make a plan… find that book and figure out what to do with Ember.”

“Figure out what to do with me…. Wait, find the book?” I glance back and forth between them and they both look guilty. “We already have it, don’t we?”

Asher gives Cameron the death glare and in response Cameron rolls his eyes shrugs, making a whoops face. “Well, we would have it if I wouldn’t have dropped it.” He takes a step back from us, surrendering his hands up in front of him when I glare at him. “Completely by accident, of course.”

“Why do I not believe that?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Why do I have the feeling that you’ve hidden it in the shadow realm so you can go back and get it yourself?”

He lowers his hands to his sides with a mocking expression. “Now why would I do that?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug, giving him attitude. “Maybe for the same reason Alton wants it, whatever that is. Or maybe destroy it so I won’t be able to help the town. Or maybe there’s something more on those pages than what I realized that night.” I glare at him as I fold my arms across my chest. “Or better yet maybe for the same reason you hid my dad in there.”

For the first time ever, Cameron’s expression falters. “How do you know about that?”

I want to wring his neck. “Because I saw him in there! Trapped in the shadows… part of them… God dammit, Cameron! Why didn’t you just tell me he was there!”

He rubs his hand over his face tensely. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not true.”

“What’s not true?” I ask unfathomably. “Since I’m not thinking anything at the moment other than how confusing this all is.”

He reaches for me, but I recoil back and Asher steps up behind me, smacking Cameron’s hand away. Cameron scowls at him, however then he aims his attention back to me, locking his eyes with mine while he lets his shift to black to match my own, like he’s trying to put us on the same ground. “I had to put your dad there. It was either that or collect his soul and give it to the Reapers.”

“Is he… is he dead?” I sound strangled and it’s difficult to breathe.

He has little penitence on his face. “More like in-between,” he says. When I open my mouth to yell at him for being so calm, he adds, “Look, it was the only way I could stop from collecting his soul and handing it over to the Reapers. Since Grim Angels souls are more powerful than any other soul, Alton doesn’t let those get revived, like the guy in the alley, or handed over to the Angels. He fights for those. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it, so I hid his soul in the shadows until I could figure out what to do with it. And you should be grateful. Alton’s hates my family even more now and is even more dead set on getting more power so he can destroy us.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I ask, but as soon as the question leaves my mouth, I realize how dumb it is. “Never mind. It was probably just another one of your tricks to fuck with my head.”

Panic flashes in his eyes and unexpectedly he’s rushing towards me, shoving Asher out of the way and putting his hands on my shoulders. “I did it because I care for you. Otherwise, his soul would belong to the Reapers right now.”

I’m not sure how to respond. Not sure whether he’s telling the truth or not. Not sure why he’s been helping me, yet at the same time it seems like he’s working against me. His hand is on my arm and the way he’s looking at me is utterly awkward with Asher standing here, observing us.

I slip my shoulders from his grasp and stumble back. “How do we get him out?” I ask.

“I’m still trying to figure that out,” he admits. I have no idea if he means it or not, though. I never do with him. “He escaped once when he paid you a little visit, but as merely a shadow and he was still attached to the shadow realm…. Right now, I have no idea how to get him out—How to get him out of shadow form.” He raises his hands in front of him as I frown at him. “Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t do it on purpose. I was only trying to help.”

“Well next time you help, make sure it’s actually helping,” I tell him, angry, but at the same time I feel bad for being so rude, because even though he’s got my dad stuck in the shadow realm, he was trying to help in his own strange way.

“We’ll figure out a way to get him out,” Cameron mutters, seeming puzzled.

Silence takes over and I can here water running in the distance as well as birds chirping and wind dancing. It sounds like nature is all around us, making me wonder what it looks like out the window.

“What do we do now?” I break the silence. “Hollows Grove is possessed, and if my death omen is right, then Alton is going to kill the entire town. And the book is gone… although if we can get a hold of this August guy, then maybe we can find out how to free all those souls and stop him without the book.” I glance over at Asher in disappointment. “But I’m guessing you don’t get wifi up here.”

Asher looks close to laughing, but stops himself by smashing his lips together. “I don’t, but I’ll find a way, Ember—we’ll figure out all of this.”

“Figure out all of this,” Cameron says, rolling his eyes as he faces me. “Like it’s that simple. Even if we could figure out how to get the book back and save the town, then get the ball rolling on her making her choice, I think you and I, and even my lovely brother over there, know that you’re conflicted, seeing as how you’ve willingly drank both our lives and felt both the dark and the light inside you.”

I peek over at Asher, trying to tell if he’s believing this crap, but he avoids eye contract with me.

“We have to get the book back,” Asher says, changing the subject. “Free the souls and then hopefully I can talk to our uncle and get some answers.”

“Yes, answers would be good,” Cameron says. “There are a lot of unanswered questions, well except for the sacrifice of the one she loves.” Cameron winks at me. “That we already know.” Then he angles his head to the side, musing over something. “Although, we don’t know who she’s going to pick for that.”

With no control over my emotions, I lift my hand to smack him. Surprisingly, Asher catches my arm. “He’s not worth it. He’s only doing this to mess with your head.”

“If that’s the case, then why am I handing out all of my Reaper secrets to you two on a silver platter?” Cameron queries, annoyed. “I’m pretty much taking your side, whatever that may be, and you’re treating me like shit.”

“Because you think it’s going to get you her,” Asher interrupts quickly as I lower my hand. “Because, deep down, you care about her, and in the end, even if it means she has to kill you, you want her to love you.”

As the awkwardness builds around us, I secretly wonder if what Asher is saying is true. If that’s how Cameron feels. I wonder if it applies to Asher, too.  If he doesn’t care if I sacrifice him if it means that I love him.

The tension cracks when Cameron suddenly waves his arm in front of him and his cloak appears and enfolds it around his body, covering him up.

“Bailing out, huh?” Asher asks with a challenge, crossing his arms.

Cameron shoots him an aggravated look as he draws his hood over his head. “No, I’m going to go get the book back for her.” He then flips his cape and shadows rise all around him as a mist comes out of the floorboards, taking him away.

Asher lunges for him, but the blackened mist quickly fades and he ends up bumping into the mirror. “Dammit,” he curses, kicking the wall.

I momentarily stand frozen, feeling a pit in my stomach form, one created by the fact that he just left me and that part of me wants him to come back. Then reality catches up with me and my head snaps in Asher’s direction.

“Should we go get him before he gets the book?” I ask Asher. “We can’t let him get it, especially if he wants it.” Because even though he says he’s getting it for me, I’m not completely buying it. Never trust anyone. It’s becoming my life motto.

Asher bites his lip, staring at the spot Cameron vanished from. “You can’t go back that way and the other way is impossible to go through right now.”

“Why?”

“You can’t go back into the shadow realm because the Anamotti were already invading it when we dove out.” He turns his head to look at me and I’m glad to see he’s calmed down. “And I can’t leave you because this place won’t exist without me; it exists only in my head. Once I’m gone, it disappears.” He pauses. “And the only other way to get out of here is to fly and unfortunately your wings are about as useless as mine right now, seeing as how you don’t know how to use them.”

I tense. “But what if someone gets in here?” Panic rushes through me. “Asher, Cameron’s right… I’m not ready to make that decision just yet.” As I realize what I’ve said, I add, “I’m not ready to sacrifice someone’s life.”

He searches my eyes intently then his gaze leisurely scroll over me, lingering a second or two longer on the ribbon of my shirt, which is starting to fray and loosen. “I know you aren’t.” He stares at me as various emotions reflect in his eyes, some that make my blood heat and some that make me want to run for the door. “And until you are, I’m going to keep you here. They can’t get to you if you’re here.”

“Am I safe here, though?”

“We are for a while, yes.”

I struggle to maintain my breathing, my heaving chest unraveling the ribbon even more, which causes my breasts to about spring free. Asher more than notices as he stares down at them through hooded eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

He tears his gaze off my cleavage. “I know it’s scary right now, but your safe with me right now Ember. And we’ll figure out how to end this all—how to stop Alton from killing the town and get you ready to make your choice.” He pretends to be unruffled, but I note he’s gotten shaky. “Whatever that might be.”

I want to tell him that I already know. That it’s him, but it would be a lie because I have no idea what I’m feeling for him or for Cameron—for anyone really. Everything is so confusing.

He must sense it too because he cuts me off as he moves to the window. “Want to see something amazing?” he asks and I nod, relieved he’s giving me an out.

Seeming a little nervous, he draws the curtain back, showing me the view outside. I’m not even sure how to respond to the surreal scene before me. Clouds that cover the sky, grass which encircles the house. A colossal waterfall in the distance rolls over rocks and crashes against the ground. Flourishing trees dot the land and flowers of all colors grow from the ground, twining around the trunks and branches.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, stepping forward and placing my hand on the glass.

He watches me. “I created this spot because I see it as perfect and no one can come here unless I allow them to.” He takes my hand, grazing his finger along my knuckles. “I promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

As he looks into my eyes, I feel something come to life inside me, but I’m not exactly sure what it is. Still, it’s warm and welcoming, so I let it grow and take over my body.

A smile slowly rises on Asher’s face. “Your eyes are back to normal.”

I glance in the mirror and let out a relieved sigh at the sight of my normal, grey eyes. “Thank God.” Yet, once again, my inner voice laughs at me, reminding me that I’m conflicted between good and bad. That the change isn’t permanent. “Now if I can just put my wings away, then maybe I can feel normal again.”

Asher’s eyes darken with hunger as he glances from my eyes to my chest to my wings then back to my eyes. “In a moment, I’ll show you how.” He releases my hand and strolls to the front of me, deliberately skimming me from head to toe. “But first I want to do something.” He wets his lips with his tongue and my thighs burn in anticipation. “I know there’s a lot going on.” He leans in towards me. “I know there’s so much we don’t know yet.” His lips get closer and my stomach somersaults. “But you’re so beautiful right now and I just want to touch you for a moment.”

He’s right. There is so much unsaid. So much at risk, and we should be focusing on that, but still, I stand motionless, waiting for his lips to touch mine. When they do, hot, fiery liquid spills through my veins and pours throughout my body. The feeling only heightens as his tongue slips into my mouth and his tongue ring grazes my teeth. He groans as he pulls me closer, his fingers instantly seeking the ribbon and pulling on it. My breasts spring free, and when he gently pinches one of them, I nearly explode, my body needing more, yet at the same time, something stops me. A barrier, created by my Reaper blood, telling me not to kiss him, but kill him, suck his life from his body. The feeling only magnifies as he starts to back me towards the bed, gripping at my breasts while kissing me fervently.

Finally it becomes too much and I pull back, shaking from head to toe as horrid feelings race through me.

“What’s wrong?” Asher says, his eyes a little glazed as he searches mine.

“It’s nothing.” My voice trembles and I take a deep breath before I say something that makes me hate myself. “I just don’t feel very well.” I motion at the wings on my back, feeling tears of guilt sting at my eyes.

He stares at me with suspicion, almost like he knows I’m full of shit, but it quickly evaporates and sympathy takes its place. “That’s completely understandable, considering what you’re going through.”

Tears stream from my eyes. I’m not even sure why I’m crying, whether it’s from guilt because I really want to kiss him, or because I didn’t get to drink his life.

“Hey.” He rushes for me and places my face between his hands. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

I suck back the tears, but they keep fighting their way out. “How do you know it will, though? Because, right now, everything feels incredibly wrong.”

“I know it does.” His eyes are full of warmth and compassion. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure everything is okay.”

I nod, feeling the guilt build, like bricks, and crush me from the inside. “Thank you.”

“You don’t ever need to thank me,” he says with sincerity and then leans in to give me a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away. “Now, how about I show you how to put your wings away and then we’ll work on flying.”

“And where will we go if I can fly?” I ask. “I thought you said I was safe here.”

“You are.” He shrugs. “But maybe we’ll fly to New York if we half to.” He gives me a sad half-smile. “The possibilities are endless really, but I want to make sure you’re prepared just in case something happens.”

I nod, a little relieved. Not just because of what he said, but that I managed to pull myself away from my Reaper side and not kill Asher. Yet I can’t help wonder how long I can fight it. How long do I honestly have until my true side comes out?

And which side will be my true side?

The New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Jessica Sorensen, lives in the snowy mountains of Wyoming. When she's not writing, she spends her time reading and hanging out with her family.

Other books by Jessica Sorensen:

The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden (The Coincidence, #1)

The Secret of Ella and Micha (The Secret, #1)

Breaking Nova (Nova. #1)

Shattered Promise (Shattered Promises, #1)

The Fallen Star (Fallen Star Series, Book 1)

The Underworld (Fallen Star Series, Book 2)

The Vision (Fallen Star Series, Book 3)

The Promise (Fallen Star Series, Book 4)

The Lost Soul (Fallen Souls Series, Book 1)

Darkness Falls (Darkness Falls Series, Book 1)

Darkness Breaks (Darkness Falls Series, Book 2)

Ember X (Death Collectors, Book 1)

Connect with me online:

http://jessicasorensen.com

http://www.facebook.com/#!/JessicaSorensensAdultContemporaryNovels?notif_t=page_new_likes

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jessica-Sorensen/165335743524509

https://twitter.com/#!/jessFallenStar

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17