Ember X (21 page)

He shoves open the car door. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He slams the door and walks toward the lake.

Shaking my head, I hop out of the car and slam the door. The metallic pieces of the Challenger glimmer in the sunlight like nickels and I pluck a piece from the rocks and turn it over in my hand.

“Looks like someone had a bad accident.” Cameron appears at my side and takes the piece of metal from my hand. “They must have been driving really fast to shatter the car so bad.”

“Yeah, probably.” I stroll to the edge of the shore where the water meets the sand. Is the necklace still down there, trapped in the car?

Cameron comes up behind me and leans over my shoulder, whispering in my ear, “Tell me what you’re thinking.” He uses the same seductive voice as he did in the cemetery, the one that pulled me to him, that begged me to touch him.

I feel lightheaded; almost hypnotized. “I’m just sad…”

“Tell me why,” he purrs. “Maybe I can help.”

It feels like I’ve drunk a bottle of wine and topped it off with a few shots of tequila. “I was the one who wrecked… and my car, it’s at the bottom of the lake.”

“There was something important in it, wasn’t there?”

I nod absentmindedly. “A necklace my grandmother gave me.”

He moves to the side of me and reaching over his shoulder, he tugs off his shirt. He tosses it on the ground and wades into the water until it is waist deep.

“Cameron, what are you doing?” I call out, stepping up to the line of the water. “You can’t—” He springs up with his arms up and then swan-dives into the water, vanishing. I stand on the shore, searching for a glimpse of him resurfacing, but too much time goes by for a normal person to breathe underwater.

I pat my pockets for my phone. “Shit.” I left it at home.

I run back to the Jeep to grab Cameron’s phone that I saw him toss in the console, but stop in my tracks when a tall figure darts out of the trees and cowers down behind the back of the Jeep. Fear rushes through me as I glance back at the lake and then at the car.

“Shit.” I waver for a moment and then sprint for the car, picking up a long, sharp stick before I cautiously open the passenger door. Without taking my eyes off the rear end of the Jeep, I feel around the inside of the cab until I find Cameron’s cell phone.

I swipe my finger across the screen and search for the dial pad, but nearly drop the phone when the tall figure steps out from the back of the Jeep. He’s dressed in his usual back cloak that shields his eyes, but I know he’s looking at me.

“I told you to go away last night.” I back away from the Grim Reaper with the stick out in front of me. “And you have to leave because I told you to. Those are the rules.”

“You didn’t mean it,” he purrs softly, stepping toward me with the tail of his cloak dragging along the ground.

I chuck the stick at him and he leans to the side so it misses his head. “Yes, I did. And I told you to go. I’m not a child and I can’t see you anymore.”

“You’ll see me forever.” He stalks toward me, step after step, eyes fastened on mine.

My feet are frozen in place, but not out of fear. In a weird, twisted way I’ve always wanted to find out what’s beneath the hood. When he gets close enough, I reach my fingers toward him and he allows me to grab the brim. I begin to lift it back, but I hear water splashing and reel around just in time to see Cameron break the surface. He floats in the water, his lengthy arms guiding him to the shore and the sunlight sparkles across his tan skin.

Ripping my gaze from him, I glance back at the Grim Reaper, but he’s gone.

“I got it for you,” Cameron calls out as he wades out of the lake. Beads of water drip from his hair and down his well-defined abs as the sunlight glows against the sky behind him. It’s straight out of a cheesy movie scene, where everything is fake.
Fake
.

The closer Cameron gets to me, the more nervous I grow; yet, I can’t seem to take my eyes off him. His soaked jeans ride low on his hips and my head begins to conjure a poem with words like
perfection
. Then
fake, plastic, nonexistent.

He struts up to me with a smile on his face and my grandma’s necklace dangling from his fingers. “Did I mention that I’m an excellent swimmer?” He stops in front of me, grinning and then reaches around and hooks the necklace around my neck without coming into contact with my skin.

The maroon gem rests at the hollow of my neck as I rub my finger along it. I’m speechless, not because he brought me the necklace, but because he was able to retrieve it from the bottom of the lake.

Suddenly, he places his hands on my arms and I stiffen, my breath catching. “You don’t have to say anything.” His hands travel up my arms, over my shoulders, and down just below my neck, leaving a trail of water on my skin.

My heart erratically pounds in my chest and his phone falls from my hand. He’s touching me and I can’t hear the noise of death, just like when Asher touches me. Jesus. How can this be? How can I go through nineteen years, asphyxiated by deaths and then suddenly two guys enter my life around the same time and give me silence?

But Cameron instills a different kind of quiet than Asher. There’s a hint of static inside my body and mind and instead of calm, I feel out of control, like when my car went over the cliff.

“Your heart’s racing,” he whispers with an arrogant smirk as he presses his palm flat against my chest, over my uncontrollable heart. He dips his head down toward my neckline and sucks the water off my skin. It feels wrong, yet, right, somehow. As his lips inch closer and closer, an involuntary moan escapes my lips, especially when his other palm glides up the front of me and cups my breast. I feel hypnotized and start to surrender in his arms as he tugs down my top and my chest heaves with my ragged breath.

“God, you smell and taste so good,” he whispers, sucking on the curve of my breast and his other hand starts to wander up the front of my shirt. “You’re mouthwatering.”

I’m working up a protest, when he swiftly pulls away with his forehead furrowed as he peers over my shoulder. I turn around to see what he’s looking at. Mackenzie’s shiny Mercedes is winding down the dirty road, headed straight for us.

“Did you invite her here?” I ask with a frown.

His eyes are locked on the car as he shakes his head. “Nope, I’m just as surprised as you.”

The car slams to a stop beside the Jeep and kicks up a cloud of dust. The door swings opens and Mackenzie steps out, adjusting her neon pink dress as she struts forward, her high heels wobbling over the rocks. The passenger door flies open and her best friend, Dana Millard, climbs out.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter with a heavy-hearted sigh.

Cameron raises his eyebrows. “What? You don’t like her?”

“Honestly, no,” I say and he smiles for some strange reason.

Mackenzie waves her hand as she heads in our direction. “Hey, I didn’t know you were coming to this.” She struts straight up to Cameron without so much as giving me an acknowledging glance. “I thought you said you were busy tonight.”

A lifted truck rolls down the road, followed by a line of fancy SUVs, trucks, and cars. It’s Saturday night and the whole college campus is probably headed down here.

Cameron glances at me. “I’m busy.”

She pouts her glossy bottom lip. “So you’re not staying for the bonfire?”

“Maybe we could stay…” he wavers, waiting for me to say okay.

“If you want to stay, that’s fine with me.” My eyes skim the forest as I try to determine how long it would take me to walk back to the house. The last thing I want to do is hang out here. These are not the kind of parties I’m intentionally invited to and I don’t want to sit around and be called a killer all night.

He smiles and pats my arm. “Sounds good.” He backtracks toward the shore to pick up his shirt.

Mackenzie follows him like a lovesick puppy, knocking her shoulder into mine as she passes by me;
bound and gagged, hands tied, are you ready to die, pretty girl?

“Watch it, killer.” Her eyes sparkle with hatred.

I flip her the middle finger and she rolls her eyes, chasing after Cameron. “Why are you all wet?” She giggles and gives him a flirty pat on the chest, gliding her palm across his muscles.

I wipe off the areas where he touched me, erasing the dampness he left on me and the feel of his touch. I pick up Cameron’s phone and dial Raven’s number as more cars and trucks pull up. People hop out of the cars; some I go to school with and some are older.

“Hey, Rav,” I say when she answers. “I need you to pick me up.”

“What?” she hollers in the phone. “Em, what are you saying? Aren’t you having fun?”

Cameron seems to be. On the shore, he slips on his shirt, letting Mackenzie ogle him with a starving look in his eyes, like he might rip her dress off at any moment.

“Can you just come get me?” I beg, looking away from the soon-to-be-porno scene. “Please.”

“Yeah, sure, hun,” she yells over the music in the background. “Where are you?”

The connection statics so I weave around the cars and hike up toward the road, tucking in my shoulders as two guys pass by, carrying a keg. “I’m at the lake,” I say, but her voice cuts out so I ascend higher up the road. “Rav, can you hear me?” The signal dies and I sigh, walking up to the top of the road right at the border of the asphalt. There’s still no signal, so I turn up the highway.

About a mile later, I still don’t have a signal. It’s midday, but the clouds are rumbling and the air is tinted with the smell of an imminent rainstorm. I keep walking with no desire to turn around, watching a raven soar above my head.

“Leave me alone, you stupid bird,” I call out. “Go haunt someone else.”

It keeps circling and cawing, feathers falling from its wings. I catch one and spin it between my fingers, trying to remember if these were the same as the ones from my dad’s crime scene. I saw a bag of them once, while I was being interrogated, but I think they were a little bit bigger.

I dodge to the side as a sleek black car with tinted windows turns the corner. The tires screech and the engine roars as it speeds up, the music bumping and vibrating the ground.

Inching further to the side of the road, I wrap my arms around myself and focus on seeing my death, but again there’s only blackness.

As the car drives passed me, it unexpectedly makes a sharp swerve into the wrong lane. There’s little time to react as it races right at me. I scramble to the railing, but the front bumper slams into my legs and I flip up onto the hood, rolling over the top and flying off the side of the road and over the edge of the cliff. I bounce off the rocks, my bones splintering, and the rocks rip at my skin. When I finally roll to a stop at the bottom of the hill, I blink up at the sky and then at my surroundings, realizing I’m lying next to the Angel statue Asher took me to; the one surrounded by crosses and flourishing roses.

My arm is twisted behind my head, my leg is kinked under my back, and warm blood spills down my forehead. Thunder booms and lightning flashes across the sky as I try to move, but I’ve lost all movement in my body.
I’m paralyzed.

It all makes sense now, like connecting dots to form a map. The lake, my brakes, Garrick smothering me with death omens. Someone wants me dead and whoever they are has just succeeded.

“Ember,” the wind howls as the Grim Reaper appears above me, its cloak blowing in the wind. I know this is it—my death. It’s time for me to go.

“Close your eyes,” he commands as he begins to pull his hood down with his skeletal fingers.

My eyelids begin to drift shut, but I catch a glimpse of dark hair and eyes. “Asher…”

Then the dark hair melts away and the eyes hollow out. I wonder if this is what death looks like to everyone, or that in my death, I have lost my mind.

“Take it, Ember, or else you won’t make it. And I need you to make it… for a little while.” He plucks a red rose from the stem, bends down, and tucks it in my hair. “Take the life.”

My eyes shut and I listen to my heart fading away, dying inside my chest. My breath submits to the wind and my heart gives its concluding beat. My life leaves my body, like leaves drifting from the trees, and every ounce of pain goes with it.

Suddenly, I don’t want to wake up.

Some people believe that right before death, a person reaches a point of comfort and numbness and it allows them to see images of every blissful, delighted, ecstatic moment they’ve ever experienced in their lifetime. I’ve died twice, and each time I see the Reaper. So is that supposed to be my happy moment?

“Wake up.” Someone pats my face. “Em, open your fucking eyes. You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

My eyes roll open to the grey sky, Raven’s sapphire eyes, and a thousand wilting roses covering the ground, charred, the once soft petals now ash upon the singed grass.

I gradually sit up and rub the dirt from my skin, then twist my arms and stretch my legs out.

Raven sighs and leans back to give me breathing room. “Holy shit, Em. What happened?”

Every single tree within a quarter mile radius is dead, dried out, stripped of leaves and the dirt is cracked out like desert sand.