Part 14 (2/2)

I read it aloud, ”To guard the earth from the wrath of death, we must use vigilance. For those we seek to guard could destroy us and themselves.”

”Do you know what it means?” I run my fingers along the elaborate lettering. ”It feels like I've heard it before.”

His mouth moves next my ear. ”Some people believe that angels are the guardians of humans' deaths. However, most humans have a general fear of anything involving death. They have the potential to destroy themselves and their protectors. A long time ago people used to slay anyone they suspected were Angels of Death.”

”Did they have black-winged feathers,” I half joke, but am half serious, thinking of all the feathers I've come across during my life.

”Are you speaking of Laden's crime scene?” Asher asks gravely. ”Or of something else?”

”You know about the feathers on Laden's crime scene?”

”Everyone knows about the crime scene.”

I unintentionally b.u.mp a cross with my boot. ”Do you know it was almost exactly like my dad's crime scene?”

He places a hand on my hip and gives it a gentle squeeze. ”Yeah, I heard that.”

Silence capes us as my memories drift back to the night my dad disappeared; the panic that led to my stupid decision to run away and who ran away with me.

”Do you know that some people believe that angels exist?” he asks. ”And that they walk in disguise, looking for the Grim Angel who will save them?”

”That's not too hard to believe, I guess. I mean, there are a ton of strange things in this world.” Like me. I lean back against his chest, breathing in his proximity. ”But what's the wrath of death?”

His fingers coast up my forearm and my stomach quivers with desire. ”The Grim Reaper,” he whispers and I'm slapped back to reality.

I jolt away, stepping on a cross. I quickly pick it up and stab it back into the moist dirt.

”What's wrong?” Asher asks. ”Did I say something that makes you uneasy? Because if I did, you can tell me.”

It's like he knows. I gaze up at the statue and then at the crosses in the ground around it. ”No... it's just getting late. I should probably get home.”

He nods, not pus.h.i.+ng me to tell him. ”Yeah, we can go back.”

As we backtrack through the trees, I think about the Grim Reaper. In my head, I picture walking inside my house and he's waiting for me on the couch with a cup of tea, like we're old friends. But I'm too old to be seeing imaginary people.

”Do you think that... do I come off as a little crazy?” I ask.

We edge along the turnout and he pulls me close so I can see the genuine expression on his face. ”I think there are a lot of people that are considered insane, but they just see and go through more than the average person can understand.” He kisses me on the forehead and I breathe in the warmth and silence of his lips.

We move away from each other and climb in the car. He starts up the engine and places the flashlight back in the glove box.

I watch him with a guarded expression. ”Asher, why did you bring me here?”

He places an arm on the back of the head rest behind me. ”Because I wanted to show you that people tend to fear the different, even when the different is good.”

”Like Angels,” I make sure.

He nods expectantly. ”Like Angels, and like people who are out of the ordinary.”

”But what does this have to do with Garrick and the Anamotti? Or can you not tell me that yet?”

”Do you want me to tell you now?” He waits patiently for my answer.

I hesitate briefly, nervous what the answer could be. ”Umm... yeah?”

”The word 'Anamotti' means death. And they believe that angels exist,” he says. ”And they want to destroy them.”

Angels? ”Are you part of this group?” I tread with caution.

He shakes his head. ”I'm not, but I know people who are.”

I take in the dark alteration of the night. ”What does that have to do with me?”

He tips my chin up and claims my gaze, looking past my eyes and into my soul. ”I can tell you, but I want you to make sure you're ready for that answer, because it's... it might be hard for you to take in, especially when you've got so much stress in your life already. I want you to really make sure, whether you believe me or not, that you can handle whatever it is I tell you.”

”How do you know about my stress?” I say, unable to look away from him.

”Because of the sadness you always carry.” He brushes the tip of his fingers along the corner of my eye. ”It's in here, all the time. So please, if you're not ready, it can wait.”

It's frightening how much he sees me.

He gives me a moment to contemplate. My mind reflects back to Garrick and his multiple death omens. To Raven. And Ian. My alcoholic, manic-depressant mother. My dad's disappearance. Angels and secret societies? There is so much going on in my life and for once I have an escape-Asher. Tonight has been one of the best nights of my life and I want to hold onto the feeling of bliss for as long as I can. Whatever he's about to say will change it. Perhaps even destroy it-I can sense it through the tone in his voice, the way he moves, and the way his eyes watch me.

”Can you take me home?” I ask, fearing having to deal with what's before me, worrying that I'll crack and end up insane. ”It's getting late.”

He nods with understanding in his eyes and pulls his hand away from the head rest. ”Whatever you want, Ember. And I mean that. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you.”

I wonder if he really means it.

All the interior lights in my house are off. Either the power is still out, my mom and Ian are in bed, or no one's home.

”Is anyone here?” Asher stares at the house. ”It doesn't look like anyone is.”

”Well, it is,” I glance at my watch and my eyes spring wide. ”One in the morning. Jesus, how'd it get to be that late?”

”Time flies when you're having fun,” he teases with a soft laugh.

The darker side of tonight has dissolved. The ride home was filled with light conversation about music, school, art, writing. And I refuse to think about Angels, the Grim Reaper, and the Anamotti.

”Tonight was fun though.” I push the car door open. ”And I needed some fun.”

He captures the hem of my tank top and his knuckles brush the side of my stomach. He draws me back into the car. ”Then why does it have to end?”

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