Spark X, Page 2

  “How do you know about that?” I lean forward to get a better look at her. “Who are you?”

  A delicate smile graces her pale lips. “That’s not important.” She backs away from the bed toward the corner again. “Remember what you have to do, Ember … Remember.”

  Remember. The word echoes through my head.

  Remember.

  Remember.

  Remember?

  My eyelids snap open, and the sunrise outside the window instantly kisses my eyes and cheeks. I’ve been having the same dream for several days now, but that was the first time the mysterious woman made an appearance. Her words still weigh heavily in my mind. The thought of taking a shortcut hadn’t really crossed my mind until she brought it up, but that might be because I’m not in love yet. Perhaps she’s right, and when I fall in love, I’ll start looking for a way to cheat destiny.

  Heaving a sigh, I reach for my pen and notebook to write, my outlet from the darkness around and inside me.

  We drift in a sea

  Filled with everything

  And nothing at the same time.

  Drift, drift, drift,

  Like a feather lost.

  Moving constantly with the waves,

  Where the feather goes

  Is up to the water.

  Choices, choices, choices,

  Nothing is under control.

  Raging waves, charcoaled sky,

  Crystal clear water, the sun so bright.

  The feather has no power of its own.

  I set down the pen, stretch my arms above my head, and glance around the room conjured up by Asher’s mind. The wooden walls remind me of a cottage with vines and flowers strung across the beams of the peaked ceiling. In the corner is a dresser beside an oval mirror. Paintings of vivid landscapes, haunting Angels, and brightly colored abstracts decorate almost every nook and cranny.

  Outside the window, clouds blanket the bright blue sky. A field of grass and trees encircles the house, and a colossal waterfall rolls over rocks and crashes to the ground.

  In order to stay hidden from the Reapers seeking my soul for their power, I’ve been locked away here for over three weeks. The place, while beautiful, is starting to feel like a prison. I need to get out, see the real world again, not feel so confined. The problem with going back to my old life is that I really don’t have anything to return to.

  My father is lost between life and death, and thanks to Cameron, his soul is hidden in the Shadow Realm. My mother is more than likely dead, and my older brother and best friend are walking around possessed by Altarius Vinceton, the leader of the Reapers and Anamotti and also the mayor of Hollows Grove, the town I was raised in and used to call home. He also happens to be plotting to kill the entire town and steal all the souls to regain his power. His true desire is to take my soul, though, because it possesses so much power. Enough power that it could free all the souls he has already taken

  Unless I can find a way to do that to myself, since I’m the only Grim Angel left standing, then the souls of Hollows Grove will belong to the Reapers along with the people themselves.

  So far, we have nothing other than a book containing information on Angels and Reapers, which we lost. Cameron went to find the book, but it’s three weeks later, and we still haven’t heard anything from him. My bet is he found the book and kept it for himself.

  We have one more hope, August Millard, the man who wrote the book. I’ve contacted him via email, and he responded that we could meet him someplace in New York, but until I can get a better grasp on flying, I can’t go anywhere. Otherwise, the Anamotti will have an easier time catching me and stealing my soul for themselves or, worse, force me to make my choice before I’m ready.

  Good or evil?

  Angels or Reapers?

  While it seems like an easy choice, I struggle every day with where my blood lies. Do I belong with the side that causes the veins under my eyes? Or with the black and red feathers sprouting from my back?

  “Hey, you’re awake,” Asher says, interrupting my thoughts as he sticks his head into the bedroom.

  With inky black hair that hangs in his slate eyes, facial piercings, and vibrant tattoos inking his body, Asher is the epitome of beautiful. The inner pain he carries inside is so haunting I could write a thousand poems and still not even clip the surface.

  “Yeah.” I shut my notebook. “I was writing … trying to clear my head a little.”

  He enters my room, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. “Is everything okay? I know I ask you that every day, but I just need to make sure.”

  “I’m good.”

  “You seem so sad lately,” he adds, crossing the room toward me, “and I’m starting to worry that maybe all of this is taking a toll on you.”

  “I promise, I’m fine.” I rise to my feet and yawn.

  Even though my wings aren’t out, my back aches in the spots where they are hidden. Every few blinks, my vision bleeds as the Reaper blood rises and possesses me.

  “I just really want to get this flying thing down already so we can get our asses to New York.” I lower my hands to my lap. “I feel like I’ve been doing nothing while my friends and family are out there being controlled by evil.”

  An evil that lives inside me.

  “You can’t put pressure on yourself.” He takes another few steps, eliminating the distance between us, yet still seems so far away. “It’ll only take longer if you do. Flying”—he massages the back of his neck—“can take decades for some Angels to get the hang of.”

  My expression drops. “Decades? But I don’t have decades.”

  “I know.” He gathers my hands in his, his fingers trembling the slightest bit. Even though I loathe myself for it, I’ve been offish toward him whenever he touches me. It isn’t that I don’t want him. I just worry about what will happen if I lose control over myself. When I’m consumed in Asher, loss of control over my body and mind is a high possibility.

  I remember the first time we met. I felt an instant connection. I was just as lonely back then, completely clueless about what my curse of seeing death meant. I rarely let anyone touch me, and when I did, I paid for it by being forced to see how they died. I was lonely, stuck in a self-created solitude. Then Asher came along. His touch was nothing but skin on skin, warmth against warmth. I wish I could have that now, wish I could be a normal girl who isn’t cursed by omens, wings, Reaper vision, and a choice that will affect the entire world.

  Who gets the souls?

  Who am I?

  Good or evil?

  “Ember, did you hear me?” Asher asks with his eyebrows knit in concern.

  I slip my hands out of his as my vision flashes red again, and the walls around me bleed, whispering words of darkness to me. “No. Sorry, I must have dazed off.”

  He searches my eyes then sighs. “I think you could use some fresh air. How about we go outside and practice flying?”

  I nod in agreement. “Just let me get dressed first.”

  He scrolls over the boxer shorts and tank top I’m wearing, his eyes lingering on my chest before he looks back at me. “All right, I’ll go throw together some breakfast while you do that.” He walks out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

  My shoulders sag as soon as I’m alone. Every time I reject him, pull away, or avoid his offered hand, I feel like the worst person in the world. Asher has done nothing other than help me, and I repay him by, what? Treating him like a friend? Less than a friend when the Reaper’s blood is running powerfully through my veins. Deep down, I know I don’t want him to be just a friend. I want him, more than I have anyone else. But the feelings are hidden deep under the confliction of my Reaper heritage.

  I hurry to get dressed in a pair of torn, black jeans, a grey T-shirt, and a pair of clunky boots. While checking my reflection in the mirror, I comb my fingers through my long, dark hair, trying to ignore the black lines appearing and vanishing below my eyes

  I blink a few times,
fighting back the whispers of evil inside my mind, before leaving the room. When I enter kitchen, the air smells like pancakes and maple syrup.

  “Asher, I thought I told you that you didn’t have to make breakfast for me.” I sigh at the stack of pancakes on the countertop and Asher cleaning off the pan in the sink. “I’m perfectly fine with toast or cereal, which I can make for myself.” I open the fridge and grab a bottle of juice. “I’ve been taking care of myself since I was old enough to reach the food in the cupboard with a stool.”

  “I know.” Asher shuts off the faucet and moves up behind me. “Which is why you should never have to cook for yourself again.” He brushes my hair aside and places a feather-soft kiss on the back of my neck. “You look beautiful.”

  Every day, he says the same thing to me, and my body reacts the same way each time. My body ripples as I lean in toward him, but as soon as we almost touch, my skin erupts in flames as my Reaper side takes over. Black lines appear on my flesh and snake up and down my arms.

  Kill him.

  Kiss him.

  Drink him.

  Save him.

  I grip onto the edge of the countertop as I struggle to keep myself in check. “Can you step back please?” I whisper. “I’m feeling a little woozy.”

  “Of course,” he replies without missing a beat, yet the pain in his voice is evident.

  “I’m really sorry. I’m just tired and haven’t been sleeping well lately.” I offer him a lame excuse as to why I’m acting so standoffish.

  “You haven’t been sleeping well?”

  “No, not really. I’ve been having dreams of my mother visiting me from the dead. And then, last night, I had the same dream, yet at the end, this woman showed up in it and warned me that I can’t take shortcuts around my choice.”

  He dips his head to look me directly in the eye. “Are you thinking about taking a shortcut? Because I wouldn’t advise it.”

  “I’m really not.” I step back from the counter and turn to face him. “She said I would, though, when I fell in love. And she warned me that, if I did, the world would end up like it was before the battle.”

  A frown sets deeply in Asher’s face. “What did this woman look like?”

  “She had black hair, these really dark eyes, and the oddest, pale blue lips, but she was really beautiful… Why? What’s wrong?” I can tell something is wrong by the anger in his eyes.

  “The woman you saw,” he mutters furiously, shaking his head, “I think it might have been my mother.”

  Chapter 2

  Ember

  “Your mother?” I ask incredulously. “Why the hell would she be in my dream? Or, better yet, how? I’ve never met her before.”

  “That’s because she forced her way in there.” Asher’s jaw ticks in annoyance. “It’s something she’s not supposed to be doing while she’s banished, especially with a Grim Angel.”

  “Wait.” I raise my hands in front of me. “You’re saying she was really there? That she wasn’t just a dream?”

  He shakes his head from side to side then nods. “More than likely, yes.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “It’s a power of the Angels, although we’re not supposed to use it on humans.”

  “But, technically, I’m not human.”

  “I know, but…” He rakes his fingers through his hair then reaches over to shut off the griddle. “I think I might need to pay her a little visit and see what she’s up to.”

  “In New York City?” I ask, opening the cupboard.

  He nods, pulling a drawer open. “And, while we’re there, we can see August Millard.”

  I frown as I collect a plate. “There’s just one small problem with that—I can’t fly yet.”

  “You’ll get there.” He bumps the drawer shut. “And, when you do, we’ll go.”

  So much for not putting any pressure on myself.

  “Now, how many pancakes do you want?” he asks, handing me a fork.

  “I can get them myself,” I reply, reaching for the stack of pancakes.

  “I’ll get them for you.” When I hesitate, he presses, “Please. It’s the only thing you’ll let me do for you, and I need to do something; otherwise, I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind.”

  “Okay. I’ll have three, then.” I pull out a stool and take a seat while he stabs the pancakes with a fork and puts them on my plate.

  “Eat up.” He forces a smile as he slides the plate and syrup to me.

  I stiffly smile then dive into the pancakes, realizing I was hungrier than I thought.

  Once I’m finished wolfing them down, I clean up despite Asher’s protest. Then we hike outside to the field in front of the waterfall to begin another day of training.

  “It’s starting to hurt when I bring the wings out,” I say when we reach the middle of the field of tall grass. “Is that normal? Or do you think it might be because I’m”—I shrug, feeling embarrassed with what I am—“different.”

  The sunlight reflects in his eyes as he nods. “That’s actually pretty normal.” He positions himself behind me. “And you’re not different. You’re unique and special and so many other things, Ember. I wish you could see what I see.”

  “I’m a monstrosity, the only of my kind.”

  “Just because you’re a Grim Angel, it doesn’t mean that’s all that you are. I think you’re forgetting about the girl who lives inside, the one who cares enough about her friends and family, who’s done everything in her power to save them.”

  Have I, though? Part of me wonders if the reason I haven’t learned to fly yet is because my Reaper blood is stopping me.

  “You know what I think,” he continues, gently placing his hands on my hips. When I try to move out of his hold, he tightens his grip, his fingers delving into my waist. “I think that part of the reason why you haven’t been able to fly yet is because you believe that you can’t. You’re so worried that you’re evil side is going to win that you’re letting it.”

  His bluntness comes as a shock. Usually, Asher is supportive, which I guess he still is, just in a more tough-love kind of way.

  “I’m just worried I’m going to mess everything up. That I’ll make the wrong choice and pick evil, and the world will suffer for it.”

  “The fact that you know evil is the wrong choice says a lot, Ember.”

  I close my eyes then breathe in the sunlight and flowery scent of the air. He’s right. I do know evil from good, and I need to stop letting the evil control me. I only wish it wasn’t such a constant battle. I wish I was purely good.

  Summoning a breath, I square my shoulders with determination. “All right, let’s try this again.”

  He shuffles back to give me room, and I relax my muscles, allowing my wings to break through my flesh and unfold. I elevate my shoulders even higher as the feathered wings span out to the sides of me with the light breeze flowing over me.

  “Remember, don’t look down when you get airborne,” Asher reminds me. “It always seems to make you lose your balance.”

  “I get vertigo when I look down at the ground,” I admit, staring at the sky. “It’s not like I’m afraid of heights. It’s just strange to be flying.”

  “I know it is.” He steps up beside me and scans the land. “I miss it, though.”

  “Flying?”

  “Yeah. It was probably the only thing I enjoyed about being an Angel.”

  Even though it’s awkward, I stretch my arm around my wings and squeeze his hand. It’s the least I can do. Asher was banished because of me and lost his ability to fly along with his strength, which makes him more susceptible to injuries. With so many Reapers after us, that’s not a good thing.

  “I’m so sorry, Asher, that you have to go through this.”

  “It’s worth it. You know that, right?” When I shrug, he winds around my wings and stands in front of me. Then he touches a hand to each of my wrists and gradually drags his fingers up my arm, causing me to shiver. “I get that you’re going
through a lot, and you don’t think very highly of yourself at the moment, but you need to understand something. You are worth every single thing that’s happened, Ember Rose Edwards.”