Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things (Dead Things Series Book 1) (35 page)

61

MACE

M
ace watched the front door, foot tapping. He hadn’t expected to see Astrid. Things were complicated enough without her showing up. Ember had herself convinced she was doing better but only because she didn’t see how much hold her magic had over him right now.

Pushing her had backfired on him. He was now more of a prisoner than ever. If he went more than a block her magic retaliated. It wasn’t just the pain. He could deal with pain but she was snapping orders at him with alarming frequency and he had no choice but to obey.

She still had no idea. She was so preoccupied with the Grove’s threat to return, she hadn’t stopped to wonder why he wasn’t putting up a fight, acquiescing to even her most ridiculous demands.

Worse still, his recent house arrest was making it impossible to feed. He needed to feed in order to control his…impulses. If he couldn’t sustain himself, there would be no way to keep her in check and nobody wanted her power on the loose, they could all just trust him on that.

If Astrid told Tristin about working for her father, he was screwed. They were all screwed. If she knew. He raked his hands through his hair. Did she know? What was she even doing there? He’d like to think he’d been lucky Kai had yet to talk but he knew the reaper had a reason. He wanted to talk to him first, he could tell. There was no mistaking the looks he gave him when they were together. A conversation was imminent.

He wasn’t sure how he’d lost control of this so quickly. For once, he had no plan, no idea at all of how to resolve this. The amulet had been his best chance at gaining the advantage and that was lost. The only way he could break Ember’s hold on him was to give into Allister’s request and he couldn’t do that. All he could do for now, was try to stay one step ahead of Ember and the witch.

He popped his neck, first one way and then the other, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders.

“Could you not do that, please?” He turned to look at Ember, who leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, expression pained. “The sound, Quinn’s neck…”

“Sorry, Luv,” Mace told her, unable to hide his exhaustion.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What?” he tensed. All it would take is her demanding he tell her everything and he’d have no choice. “Nothing, I’m just tired.”

A small smile played at her lips, “Big, bad, evil soul eaters get tired?”

She leaned her head on the doorframe and he could see she was tired too. Her hair was a riot of frizzy flame curls and she still had a leaf in her hair from outside. Her eyes looked haunted since Quinn’s death. He had to remind himself she wasn’t like the others. They’d hunted; they’d had to take out living things. Until recently, Ember only viewed death once the victim had passed. She’d never watched the life drain from somebody’s eyes.

She chewed on her bottom lip, thoughtfully, as she watched him watch her. He was pushing her too hard but he couldn’t do anything else. This was all going to fall down around them. The pressure building in his chest when he looked at her was just this side of too much. Was it all her magic as Allister said? Sometimes he didn’t think so, even though anything else was impossible.

He must have stared too long because her eyes became uncertain and her hand fluttered to her cheek. “What? Is there something on my face? Is my hair a mess?”

He shook his head, “No, sorry. Like I said, I’m just tired.”

He glanced again at the front door wondering what Tristin and Astrid could possibly have to talk about for this long. Their only commonality was gone. When he looked back, Ember was close enough to tilt his chin up and turn his head with gentle purpose. “You look pale. Are you sick? Is that a thing that can happen?”

He put his hand over hers, pulling it from his face. He didn’t let go. “I’m fine.”

He licked his dry lips. He was definitely not fine. If he didn’t eat soon the side effects were going to get much worse.

“When did you eat last?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

Great, could she read his mind now? This just kept getting better. He looked down, shrugging. “A few days ago, I guess.”

“A few as in three?”

He could lie but it was too risky. If she demanded the truth he might spill everything in his magic’s pathetic attempt to appease hers. Finally, he just decided on honesty.

“Seven.”

She pulled him out of the living room and into the dining room, pushing the doors shut and turning on him.

“Seven days?” she whispered. “Are you crazy? That’s a long time to go without eating.”

He crossed his arms, trying not to be himself, “Listen, Luv, I know lately you can’t go four minutes without stuffing a cookie in your mouth and I adore that about you, but when you are as old as I am, it’s not necessary to eat constantly.”

It was sort of a lie but not exactly. He didn’t have to eat. It wouldn’t kill him. He’d go crazy. Possibly go on a brutal murder spree. He would eventually shrivel up into a mummy like state forced to endure no company but his own horrid thoughts for all eternity…but he’d still be on this side of the veil.

She arched a brow at him. “So now you have a problem with my weight?”

His face contorted in disbelief. “What? That’s what you got out of what I said? I don’t care what you weigh, Ember. Eat your body weight in cookies, eat carrots or string beans, gain a hundred pounds, it’s all the same to me.”

The tension leached from her shoulders and she flopped into one of the dining room chairs. He shook his head at her defeated look. He crouched down in front of her chair, his magic wanting to be nearer to hers. “I am just saying that I don’t need to feed. I’m stuck on this plain whether I’m well fed or starving. Just call it another perk of being immortal.”

She gazed at his face for a long time, eyes roaming over every feature. He fought not to squirm under her scrutiny.

“You need to eat.”

He couldn’t help the frustrated groan that escaped as he looked up at her. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. I know I’m doing way better but what if something happens and you need to help me? How are you going to do that if you don’t have any strength left?”

Mace struggled around her twisted logic, opting to divert her from her current train of thought. “Do you think it’s a good idea for me to be feeding off people in or near town after what just happened? Do you think the Grove won’t notice a few of their faithful followers missing?”

Her eyes slid away from his and he stood to pace.

“I understand you are trying to help but I think the best thing we can do is try to keep a low profile until we get you fully under control.”

“How do you do it?” she asked suddenly.

He frowned, “Do what?”

“Feed.”

He did not want to go down that rabbit hole. “It’s hard to explain.”

“But you can feed without killing somebody. You said so.”

He wanted to be done with this conversation; just talking about feeding made his teeth hurt and increased the gnawing ache in his stomach. His magic stirred; it wanted to feed. He clenched his jaw trying not to think of how much he needed it. “Yes, can we drop this, please?”

“Feed off me,” she told him, so quiet he almost missed it.

His breath punched out of him. “What?”

She stood, crossing over to him. “What? You need to eat. I can afford the power loss.”

“Ember, it’s not the same thing. It’s not power; it’s your soul.”

She crossed her arms, jaw set. “I don’t care. Better me than some defenseless human out there. Besides, my magic allows me to defend myself if you take it too far. Nobody outside of this town can say that.”

He wanted to fight but his power wasn’t interested in his feelings. It was hungry. He was hungry. He swallowed hard stepping towards her. He was so hungry. He wanted to say yes; to push her against the nearest wall and sate himself on what she offered so freely. His magic slammed around inside him like a rabid dog trying to free itself from a cage but he wouldn’t do it unless she knew the truth. “Do you know why I kill my victims?”

She looked at him, startled, “W-what? Don’t your kind feed on the dying?”

He smiled slightly, “Did Quinn tell you that?”

She nodded, “Isn’t that what your kind does? Feed on the souls of the dying before they can cross over?”

“Some, but not me.” He turned away. He didn’t want to look at her when he said this. “I told you I’m not a victim to some curse. I’ve spent years feeding off the souls of the healthy. Sometimes for money. Sometimes for fun. Sometimes I even go for the strongest ones, to make more of a sport out of it. It’s why I eventually stopped hunting humans and started hunting people like us. I like the challenge of the preternatural.” Ember watched him but said nothing. “I could leave their bodies alive, leave them soulless.”

Ember’s brow was furrowed, lips tight. “Like zombies?”

“Worse.”

Ember snorted, “Worse than zombies?”

“Yes, far worse.” He turned on her. “The soul is like your conscience. It’s the metaphysical reason for all our emotions. Imagine legions of humans and super-humans out there with no conscience; people who take whatever they want without any concern for themselves or others. Imagine unleashing your zombies on the world but completely able bodied and looking just like everyone else. That is what happens when I take the soul of a living person. Had I left them alive, I could have bred a race of serial killers the size of a small country.” He turned to look at her, hoping she understood why he couldn’t feed. “That is why I kill my victims.”

“Then isn’t that the more humane way to feed?” she said.

“What?”

“If leaving them alive means they would hurt others, aren’t you doing the right thing by killing them?”

Mace paused, staring hard at Ember. She just didn’t get it. The girl was mad. A thought occurred to him then, it made him go cold. What if Allister was right; what if his feelings for her were just a side effect of their link? More importantly, what if it wasn’t a one-way street? Could she be losing her empathy? She mourned the loss of Quinn but not like the others. Could he be stealing Ember’s soul in an entirely different way? Ember’s powers were already too much. The only thing that kept her in check was her compassion.

Ember without her soul was a terrifying prospect.

“They wouldn’t need to be killed if I wasn’t feeding off their souls. Ember, I’m a murderer.”

She shook her head. “You have to eat. You didn’t ask for this. Did you?”

He had, actually, sort of but that was hardly the point.

“Ember…”

“No,” she told him, putting up a hand. “You are going to feed on me and that’s the end of it.”

He was moving before he could stop himself. He couldn’t deny her. She made a face that showed she was pleased with herself. She shouldn’t be. He could make it so it didn’t hurt but there was no way of knowing how much of who she was would be lost if he fed.

He reached out and cupped her face with both hands stepping further into her space. She sucked in a surprised breath; her magic jumping at the contact, thrilled with whatever it was that led her closer to him.

“What are you doing? Is this how you f-feed?”

“Just hold still,” he whispered. He was close enough to feel her heartbeat rabbiting in her chest.

She trembled as his magic took control. Her mouth opened and she whimpered, as a piece of her became his. To anybody else, it looked like an intimate embrace, a couple just on the verge of kissing, one hand at the back of her neck, the other on her cheek. Nobody could see the soul. They couldn’t see him pull it from her lips and into himself.

He didn’t need to touch her to feed. It was better for them both if he didn’t. He needed to concentrate and it was so much easier if he wasn’t touching her but she was so close and she smelled so good he could find no reason why he couldn’t do both. When his lips touched hers, she gasped but she didn’t pull away. Her hands slid to his shoulders, letting him press her gently against the wall of the dining room.

He took it slow. Somewhere in the back of his mind he reasoned this was probably her first kiss. He’d kissed many people in his lifetime, but few without wanting something in return. A feeling like disgust curled inside him. He was even robbing her of this. Ember deserved better. She deserved everything.

He tried to make it good, tried to make it about her. His fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head and deepening the kiss. He tried not to take too much, to be aware…but the noises she made were distracting, tiny breathy sounds that made him care less about feeding and more about seeing what other noises he could pull from her.

But something wasn’t right. He could usually feel the soul slipping; could feel as it drained away but that wasn’t happening. If anything, it seemed Ember’s soul was an endless supply, constantly replenishing. It took longer than it should to make the connection. He wasn’t accessing Ember’s soul at all. All that power Ember channeled daily was right there; hundreds of old and powerful souls his for the taking. It shouldn’t be possible, yet it clearly was because he could feel their essence appeasing his hunger.

He tried to pull away, to break the connection. He didn’t go far, his lips trailing over her jaw to her ear. She made a sound, pulling him closer. He could still feel them. He was still feeding. It seemed once Ember allowed the connection, he had access until she rescinded the invitation.