Ember X (Death Collectors)

chapter 3

Raven and I have been best friends since we were in diapers. Our parents were friends in high school and they moved next door to each other after they married. Our moms were pregnant together—twice—and our dads worked at the local auto shop. It was the picture perfect scene, until two years after Raven and I were born. Then the perfection withered like a famished rose.

Then my parents started fighting a lot. At first it wasn’t bad, but then it started happening every night. My mom said my dad didn’t want to spend time with us—that he was too caught up in his job and hanging out at the bar. And she was right—my dad was drunk all the time. Finally, he moved out and Ian and I barely saw him.

Raven’s dad bailed on her family a few years later. Just up and left. Poof. Not too long after, our moms developed drug habits and our brothers started living in their own world. Actually, Raven’s brother, Todd, isn’t too bad, just a little unconventional. But I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Raven. She’s my stability.

Remy’s party is more lively than usual. A mob of college students are packed in the miniscule living room, swaying to “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult, practically dry humping each other, the ecstasy evident all over their faces. Deep down, in the darkest spots of my aching heart, I wonder what it would be like to touch someone like that, rub up against them, feel the inviting heat of their body, instead of the foul sensation of their impending death.

Beer bottles and cigarette butts litter the hardwood floor and the air reeks of sweat, beer, sex and death. It’s potent, venomous, intoxicating. I hang out in the emptiest corner of the house, near the stairway and the door, trying to keep my distance. By accident, I ran into three people and their death omens still taint my skin like small bruises and nicks and cuts.

I sip on my cranberry juice, wishing I could spike it with a little vodka, but I’m the designated driver. I watch people dance, my thoughts drifting to the guy from the graveyard. What is he doing right now? Right this instant, while I stand here by myself. In my head, he’s sitting in his Victorian home, scribbling beautiful words in his notebook, shirtless, his hair hanging into his eyes. His house is secluded from the world by a dark forest, constantly concealed by fog. I’m sure this isn’t accurate, but that’s the beauty of an imagination.

“Ember!” Raven shouts over the music as she dances through the crowd, her bubblegum pink wig standing out in the sea of bodies and her hands are in the air. Sweat trickles down her skin and she fans her face as she gets close to me. “What are you doing? You promised to have fun.” She points an accusing finger at me and blinks her glossy eyes and then leans forward, getting in my face. “In fact, you swore on it.”

I take the plastic cup from her hand and swish the drink around, noting there’s only vodka in it and no punch. “I know and I’m trying, I promise, but no more drinks, okay?”

She pouts out her bottom lip. “Come on, Em. You promised.”

I fake an excited dance move, shaking my hips. “And I’m having a blast, I swear. Now go and dance. Have some fun for the both of us.”

Annoyance burns in her eyes as she puts her hands on her hips and glares at me. “Are you just being a pain in the ass because you’re here, or is your little death thing putting you in a bad mood?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I swallow hard and take a step back. “No, I think you’re thinking of someone else.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, it’s like mating season in here,” a deep male voice enfolds around me and sends tingling vibrations quivering through my body.

I shudder and misstep, tripping over my feet, and stepping on the toe of his shoes. Actually, boots; black ones with little silver skulls on the buckles. I like his boots. My eyes progressively travel upward as I take him in; dark jeans, a plaid shirt over a black T-shirt and a skull necklace hooks around his neck. There’s a sequence of leather bands on his wrists and a metal loop ornaments his eyebrow. His inky black hair dangles in his slate eyes and hangs shaggily down over his ears.

His intense gaze tantalizes my skin as he takes me in. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I shiver again at the sound of his sultry voice as it spills over my skin. “Sorry about your shoes.” I retreat backward, putting space between us. The last thing I want is to find out when this gorgeous guy dies. “Crowded rooms just make me a little uneasy.”

He laughs softly as he tosses his cup into the trash. “I know what you mean. All this,” he motions at the people grinding against one another, “is an excuse for them to dry hump each other in public.”

I almost smile at the similarity of our thoughts. “That’s a pretty good observation.”

He presses his lips together and then with a hesitant look, he leans over my shoulder, putting his lips next to my ear. I stiffen, worried he’ll touch me and this magical moment will end, but he’s careful, leaving a sliver of space between his lips and my ear. “Take those two for instance. I think they’ve got their own mating ritual going on. Although, I think it might be a one-sided mating ritual.” He angles his head to the side and looks at the crowd.

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

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

He leans from my ear, his tongue slipping out to lick his lips and I notice a glint of metallic—dear God, he has a tongue ring. “Is she a friend of yours?”

I wonder if he’s attracted to her. Most guys are, which has never bothered me until now. Raven’s bold and flirty—everything I’m not—and I’ve accepted that. But this guy has my insides curving and cultivating with so much sweltering heat I’m nearly sweating.

“Her name’s Raven,” I tell him, assessing his face closely for his reaction.

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

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

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

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

“Ember… I like it.” He inches closer and our bodies almost touch. I can feel the warmth radiating off him, like flames, and I can smell the scent of his alluring cologne. “‘And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor,’” he quotes a line from Poe’s The Raven.

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

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

Growing uncomfortable with his mention of death, I scan the crowd for Raven. “Trust me, death isn’t that fascinating.” I’m slightly nervous that I can’t find Raven. I turn back to the mysterious stranger. “It was nice talking to you, but I need to…” I trail off at the animalistic look he’s giving me. “What?” I ask, not sure I want to know—not sure I can handle it. I never let myself get close to guys. What would be the point? I couldn’t kiss them—do anything with them—without seeing their death.

He shakes his head, his eyes locked on me. “It’s nothing… I was just wondering if you wanted to dance?”

I instantly shake my head. “No thanks. I don’t dance.”

He smiles, rubbing his lips together, and I’m mesmerized by the way his mouth moves. “That’s okay. I’ll lead.” He pauses, his eyes scrolling over my face, and then it travels downward over my body.

“I really can’t…” The way he’s looking at me is making it difficult to protest. “I just… I’m not a fan of getting touched…” I shake my head at my absurd response.

The corners of his lips tug upward. “Well, what if I promise not to touch you?” He arches an eyebrow at me as he backs toward the dance floor, maintaining my gaze.

The song switches to “Degausser” by Brand New and I find my feet taking on a life of their own, as Raven’s words echo through my head. Have fun. I move with him, raising my hands above my head to maneuver through the people, trying not to get touched by anyone.

He walks backward until he reaches the edge of the crowd, then he stops and waits for me to catch up. I’m grateful he chooses to keep a little bit of distance from the other people. Once I reach him however, I realize that I wasn’t lying when I said I couldn’t dance.

“Don’t laugh at me when I fall on my ass,” I joke. “Promise you won’t.”

His mouth teases to a grin. “Okay, I promise.” Then he puts his hands out like he’s going to touch me and I suck in a breath. But he stops right as he’s about to touch my hips, and inches close enough that I can feel the heat between us, the brush of his clothes, the feel of his breath; yet, he’s not touching me.

I exhale as he begins to rock his body, swaying to the rhythm, and I can’t help but shut my eyes, and move freely to the beat as well. My heart is throbbing in my chest as I lean just a little nearer so I can feel him, yet I can’t feel him. All over me, invisible tingles everywhere. I imagine his hands could be on my arms, my back, my hips, grabbing my breast, sliding between my thighs. I want to moan so God damn bad that I have to bite on my bottom lip to suppress it.

I sense him watching me so I crack my eyes open and then open them wider at the sight of his face, his lips parted, his eyes dark and lustful.

I don’t even know him, yet I feel like I’m going to combust from the nearness of him. When he moves closer, I stay put, bound to the floor by my yearning, even when he slants into me. I arch my back, and his chest follows the path of mine, his hands sliding around me, yet he still doesn’t touch me.

He tips his head forward and our lips are only inches away; his breath dusting my lips, my cheeks. The front of his shirt brushes my neckline and a moan does escape my lips.

As the music continues to pulsate, he lets out a deep moan too and the sound is erotic and causes me to tremble. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me and I consider letting him, wanting—needing to feel what those soft lips of his taste like.

“Ember,” he whispers and then shuts his eyes.

Licking my lips, I close my eyes, and wait for whatever’s going to happen next. I wait and wait and when I can’t take it any longer, I open my eyes.

He’s gone. Vanished into thin air. I stand back upright, scanning the crowd, but I can’t find him anywhere. “He didn’t even tell me his name,” I mutter, feeling like an idiot. Not only did I break all my rules by coming out here with him, but I practically orgasmed in front of him and he didn’t even touch me.

Shaking my head at myself and trying to breathe through the intoxicating feelings still pulsating through me, I search the mob of people for Raven.

I check up the stairway and then search the crowd, finally spotting the top of Raven’s pink head bobbing up and down in the middle it. A band is setting up their instruments at the front of the room—things are about to get hectic. Inhaling, I tuck in my shoulders and weave around the edge of the room, careful not to come into contact with anyone.

“Raven!” I holler over the music as her pink wig descends further into the crowd. I press my back against the wall and edge my way toward her, trying not to run into anyone.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, watch it!” someone shouts.

I burst through the door, gasping for air. Two guys are drinking beer on the front porch and I shove them out of the way, ignoring their death omens, and sprint across the trashed front yard. I stop in the middle of the lawn, panting and dripping with sweat, vomit pressing at the back of my throat. The moon is a bright orb against the sky and the stars cut it like diamonds. The trees surrounding the cabin sway with the wind and kick up leaves across the grass.

I hunch over, brace my hands on my knees, and slow my breathing. “Get it together, Ember,” I whisper to myself. “Death is death, in any shape or form. You can’t stop it.” Inhaling, I collect myself together and head back to the log cabin, ready to find Raven and tell her it’s time to leave. Between the stranger bailing on me, and the death omens, I’ve had enough partying for one night.

Cars are lined bumper to bumper down the driveway, making it nearly impossible to get out, but a rusted black Cadillac drives around the line, the wheels moving onto the grass. As it passes me, I spot a bubblegum haired girl who winks her sapphire blue eye at me.

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

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

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

I pat my pockets for the keys. “Where are they?” Trying not to panic, I retrace my steps, searching the ground for something shiny and metallic. “Come on. Come on. Where are they?”

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

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

He chugs the last of his drink, crushes his cup, and chucks it over the railing into the bushes. There’s a darkness in his eyes that unsettles me. “You sure?” he asks. “Because I could help you with whatever.”

“No thanks.” I keep walking backward, toward my car, without taking my eyes off him. “I got everything I need.”

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

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

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

I nod. warily “Um… yeah…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a split second where my car hovers over the edge, like it might not fall, and I hold my breath. Then out of nowhere, a raven dives down and lands on the hood. Seconds later, the tailgater slams into the rear end of my car and my head slams against the windshield. The car flips over nose-first and then rolls down the hill. My seatbelt locks and I’m jerked back to the seat as my body is stabbed, beaten, and broken. Then the car hits the lake and suddenly it becomes clear: I’m going to die today.

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

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

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

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

“Ember,” someone whispers. “Hang on.”

I glance from left to right. Darkness and I’m alone, just like my death omen. A faint light swims through the water to the window, illuminating the inside of the car, and I reach out to touch it.

“Ember,” the voice growls. “Don’t touch it.”

The light flashes, and then shifts into a black mass.

“Emmy,” it whispers and a black cape drapes over me. “Come with me.”

No, not again. My body ignites with flames. I scream as a tunnel opens up and swallows me.