Cinder

by Jessica Sorensen

  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 screw 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 ta
ke 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 Mr. 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 Mr. 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 messing 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 shirt isn’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 m
orning.”

  “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.”