Spark X (Death Collectors, #3)
Jessica Sorensen
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Copyright © 2015 by Jessica Sorensen
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.
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Spark X
By Jessica Sorensen
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
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
About the Author
Prologue
Asher
I’ve been in love with Ember Rose Edwards for a while, but she doesn’t know it. I can’t tell her, either, not when the battle’s ending solely rests on her making a choice and sacrificing someone she loves. If I were to divulge how I feel, I’d be interfering even more, and I’ve already been banished for entering her life. It’s not something I regret. I made the choice the day I first saw her. I wanted her in my life, regardless of the consequences.
That day feels like such a long time ago, yet it hasn’t been more than a few months. So much has happened since then. So much has changed, for the better and the worse.
God, we were both so different back then.
As I sit beside her bed and watch Ember sleep, my thoughts drift back to the day when I first laid eyes on her…
I was sent to that place to collect a soul, but what I didn’t expect was that I’d end up at a house crammed with a ton of humans, dry humping the shit out of each other. I had instantly wanted to get the hell out.
A rock song plays on the stereo and floats across the room full of people dancing. Beer cans and cups cover the floors, and the air is drenched with the stench of cigarettes. It has been a long week. Michael, the leader of the Angels, has sent me on a total of five missions to collect souls, which is a large amount compared to most Angels. Then again, Michael has never been a fan of me, considering I have Reaper blood.
My sole purpose tonight is to wait until the person dies then collect their soul before the Reapers get ahold of it. I’ve already spotted three Anamotti, and I’m guessing they’re here for the same reason I am—waiting for the person to pass away.
I sense a fight in the air, thick and heavy, like tar.
I lean against the wall near the corner, watching the crowd, drinking a beer, eager for the night to be over. As my gaze travels over each human, I wonder which one of them is the unlucky person who will die tonight. Humans are so fragile...
The air suddenly thins and charges with electricity, full of life and death mixed together. My attention drifts to the side of me, my senses sharpening as I zero in on a girl. Ember Rose Edwards. Her name comes to me like a breath of fresh air.
I’ve never met her before, but know her name for solely one reason—she carries Angel blood, just like she carries Reaper blood.
Sadly, I haven’t crossed paths with a Grim Angel in a while, because Reapers are making them a dying breed. Usually, I pass by without so much as a second glance, despite my connection to them. This time, though, I find myself staring. One, two, three songs go by, and I still can’t seem to take my eyes off her.
She’s gorgeous, to say the least. Dark hair flows down her back, skin as pale as snow, full lips as red as a rose, and big, hazel eyes. But her beauty isn’t the only thing that captures my attention. It’s the pain hidden in her eyes, masked beneath her strength.
Her attention is fixed on the throng of dancing people, and she looks as uninterested as I felt until I laid eyes on her. She keeps her distance, too, probably because of her Grim Angel ability to see death with a touch.
I know I should stay away. Let her be. I’ll be breaking a lot of rules if I interfere with her life, but I find myself moving in her direction, drawn to her.
When I reach her, I whisper the first thing that comes to mind. “God, it’s like mating season in here.”
She shudders from the feel of my breath and stumbles forward, stomping on the toe of my boot. As she regains her balance, her gaze whips in my direction and slowly travels from my boots to my shirt then finally rests on my eyes. She swallows hard as our gazes lock, and I realize she is afraid of something.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I apologize quickly.
She shivers again then clears her throat. “Sorry about your shoes.” She starts to back away nervously. “Crowded rooms just make me a little uneasy.”
I chuckle, crunching the empty cup in my hand and chucking it into a nearby trashcan. “I know what you mean. All this”—I gesture at the people dry humping one another—“is an excuse for the opposite sex to rub up on one another.”
“That’s a pretty good observation.” She almost smiles, and I feel like I won the lottery or something.
Pressing my lips together, I inch closer and lean over her shoulder. She stiffens from my nearness, probably worried I’ll touch her and force her to see my death. I won’t put her through that, though, so I make sure to leave a sliver of space between us.
“Take those two for instance.” I point at a girl with pink hair dancing with a gangly guy. He moves with a huge lack of coordination, while the girl is graceful, looking bored as hell. “I think they’ve got their own mating ritual going on. Although, I think it might be a one-sided mating ritual.”
She tracks where I’m looking. “I think you’re right.” She turns to me, and for a moment, the pain in her eyes vanishes and pure lust flashes, instead. “It looks like she’s bored.”
My heart thuds deafeningly inside my chest from the look of desire in her eyes directed at me. “Is she a friend of yours?”
She nods, biting her lip contemplatively. “Her name’s Raven.”
I cock my pierced brow. “Like the poem?”
“You know Edgar Allan Poe?” He face lights up with excitement.
Jackpot. The girl has it bad for the dead poet, who I vaguely remember meeting two centuries ago.
“A little bit.” I stare at her beauty, trying to figure out what to do next. I know what my body wants to do with her, and my mind seems to be veering toward the same thing. Regardless, I’d be in a shitload of trouble for touching her. Fuck, even this conversation is going to get me into trouble.
“What’s your name?” I ask, trying to act as normal as I can.
“Ember.” She scoots forward, holding her breath as a girl stumbles by, having a drunken conversation with the air.
“Ember … I like it.” I dare a step or two closer and breathe in the faint scent of her—roses with a hint of lilies. “ ‘And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor,’ ” I quote the one line I can remember from Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven.”
“I thought you said you knew a little?” she asks me, impressed.
I shrug, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “What can I say? I’m fascinated with the idea … love, death, and the
insanity it brings.”
She grows uncomfortable with my mention of death, and her eyes anxiously sweep the crowd as if she’s seeking an escape. I can’t have her leave just yet. I need to keep her here a little longer. I don’t want her to go.
“Trust me, death isn’t that fascinating,” she mutters. Tearing her eyes off the mob, she looks back at me. “It was nice talking to you, but I need to… What?” she asks, touching her hair and face self-consciously, misreading my stare.
I shake my head, my gaze fastened on her. I’m too afraid to blink, too afraid, if I do, she’ll bolt. “It’s nothing … I was just wondering if you wanted to dance.” It’s a desperate move to spend a little more time with her before I have to return back to the reality of my Angel life, collecting soul after soul.
“No thanks. I don’t dance,” she rejects my offer without missing a beat.
I run my lips together, smiling, and her focus drops to my mouth.
“That’s okay. I’ll lead.” I pause when she bites her lip. Lust flares in me again, and I’m more turned on than I have been in a long time.
God, I want her. Want yet can’t have. I know that, know better. I need to go before I get myself in deeper.
“I really can’t…” She bites down on her lip harder, appearing conflicted and making it harder for me to walk away. “I just … I’m not a fan of getting touched…” She shakes her head, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
I restrain a smile. “Well, what if I promise not to touch you?” I arch a brow as I back toward the dance floor, holding her gaze.
The song switches to “Degausser” by Brand New as I reach the brink of the crowd and wait. A moment passes before she cautiously inches toward me with her hands raised in the air as if she’s dancing, but I think it’s to keep anyone from touching her.
I pick a less packed spot on the floor and wait for her to join me.
“Don’t laugh at me when I fall on my ass,” she jokes when she reaches me. “Promise you won’t.”
I flash her a grin, finding her adorable as hell. “Okay, I promise.” I reach out like I’m about to touch her, forgetting, until she sucks in a deep breath.
Despite how much I want to, I stop right as I’m about to touch her hips and move close enough that I can feel the warmth of her body seep into my skin.
She exhales in relief as I begin to rock my body, moving to the rhythm of the song. Her eyes shut as she sways with me, rocking her hips, allowing the music to sweep over her. My pulse throbs under my skin as I lean just a little closer until I can almost feel the softness of her skin.
God, she looks so unbelievably fucking sexy right now. Her eyes shut, her lips parted, her expression euphoric as she sucks her teeth between her lips and bites down hard, stifling a moan.
Her cleavage is popping out of her top, and the bottom of her shirt rides up, revealing a speck of her flesh that looks so tempting it takes all my willpower and restraint not to reach out and touch her.
She must sense me watching her because she cracks her eyes open, and then her lips part as she takes in the sight of my face, burning with the desire pumping through my body.
God, what I wouldn’t give to stay here on earth to get to know her. I wish I were allowed to, wish she wasn’t a Grim Angel. Wish. Wish. Wish I could have her.
Unable to control myself any longer, I lean in to kiss her. I expect her to flee, to stop me from getting into trouble. Instead, she arches her back, moving closer. Magnetized, I take another step toward her, and the tips of our boots brush. Hardly any room is left between us, but I want there to be none at all.
I lean in, my breathing raggedly. When my shirt brushes her neckline, a moan escapes her lips. I counter the sound, groaning deeply, needing yet knowing I can’t have her.
“Ember,” I choke, torn between doing what I want and what I’m supposed to.
She licks her lips and closes her eyes, waiting for me. My breath is hot on her face as I move in to a steal a kiss I’m never supposed to take.
Right before our lips connect, a cold shiver ripples through my body. I jerk back and scan the crowd, searching for the Reaper I know is nearby.
In the corner of the room, hidden in the shadows, I spot him smiling at Ember and then at me.
He knows what she is. Shit.
Even though it nearly kills me, I step back and vanish into the crowd, leaving Ember behind while I go distract the Reaper from her, because I refuse to let him have her.
I blink from the memory back to reality. I lost track of the Reaper that night, but thankfully, I found Ember right as she crashed her car into the lake.
I smooth my hand over her head as she softly breathes in and out, and her eyelids flutter. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten to her in time and let her drink some of my life, just like I don’t know what I’d do without her. Even though I hadn’t realized it at the time, I was extremely lonely before I met Ember. An outcast amongst my own, my mom banished, I had no one. Ember was the same way, and through that connection, I was drawn to her. Now, that connection has turned into love.
“I love you,” I whisper as I lie down in bed beside her. “And, no matter what, I’ll always protect you.”
Even if it means dying.
Chapter 1
Ember
My mother visits me in my dreams, but every time it happens, it feels so real. She seems so real. Real, but very much dead. Her skin is as pale as the moonlight filtering in through the window, her eyes as black as the sky, and her life burned out like a dying star.
“Ember, I’m so sorry,” she says, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“Sorry for what?” I sit up and stare at her through the darkness blanketing the bedroom.
“For everything. For being a terrible mother.” She reaches out and places a hand over mine. “For dying and leaving you alone in this.”
“It’s all right. None of what happened is your fault.”
“But it is.” She squeezes my hand. “I knew what you were from the day you were born, knew what I was getting into when I married your father. I was scared and took my fear out on you. I was so afraid of what you were that I never really got to know you.” She sighs, turns away from me, and gazes out the window. “And now I never will.”
I scoot toward her in a panic. “Yes, you will. I’ll save you, Mom. I’ll save all of you. Ian. Raven. I might even be able to save Dad.”
She glances over her shoulder at me. “Ember, I know you think you can save us all, but not everyone is going to make it out of this alive.”
“No, there’s a way to bring people back to life, to save their souls.” I desperately clutch her hands. “Mom, listen to me. Have you ever heard of an et furabatur de Anima tenebroso? Because it’s supposed to be able to free possessed souls like yours, Ian’s, and Raven’s.”
She sadly shakes her head. “But, even if I had, it wouldn’t matter. I’m already dead.”
“There’s a way around that.”
“Not this time.” She offers me a sad smile then slips her hands from mine and rises from the bed. “I wish I could have been a better mother to you.”
Then she vanishes into the night, leaving her words echoing in my head.
I wake up with an awful sense of dread that maybe she’s right. Maybe I won’t be able to save everyone. Either they’ll end up being possessed for too long, or they’ll die before I can save them.
Maybe they’re already dead.
“Maybe they are,” a woman says from beside me.
I jerk to my right, tugging the blankets closer. “Who’s there?” I squint through the darkness and make out a slender figure looming in the corner of the room. “Who are you?"
A smile expands across the woman’s pale blue lips as she steps from the shadows and into the moonlight. Her hair is like ash, her skin like porcelain, and her pupils are massive, consuming every inch of her eyes. She’s flawlessly beautiful to say the least, almost otherworldly beautiful.
r /> “Don’t worry, I didn’t come here to hurt you.” Her voice is smooth like honey. “I came here to help.”
My fingers tighten on the blanket, and my gaze dances between the door and her as I debate if I can make a run for it. “With what?”
“With your choice.” She stops just short of my bed and flips her flowing hair from her shoulder. “It’s important that you listen to me, Ember. There are no shortcuts for what you have to face, and you need to understand that.”
“I’ve never thought about taking a shortcut.”
“But you will. Once you fall in love, you’ll look for every single way around making the sacrifice. In the end, though, you’ll have to make it; otherwise, the world will go back to what it was before the battle.” A far away look crosses her expression as she gazes out the window. “The world was nothing more than blood and death.” Her gaze fastens with mine, and fire scorches within her pupils. “Kind of like how you see things through your Reaper’s vision now.”