The Reaper's Touch

27. A Moth To A Flame .

"It's good to see you."

My vision was just barely adjusting as I opened my eyes, but I didn't need to see who it was to know that voice.

"Ember!"

"Yes, it's me, Cupcake." She giggled, hugging her small frame over me. "How do you feel?"

I sat up, rubbing my eyes and quickly landed them on her. I needed to see her there, to know she was really okay.

"He put you back together again." I whispered. The phrase felt so familiar, I could swear I'd just recently heard it.

"Little Miss Humpty Dumpty, that's me." She smiled.

"And-and Michael?"

The look on her face sent mixed signals.

"He'll be fine, but.. he is in pretty rough shape."

"But then how did you-"

"Ezra."

"But I thought we needed-"

"Ezra's in pretty rough shape too. Him and Michael."

That caught me completely off guard. The last time I checked, the Reaper was the one in the process of dismembering the poor guy, I don't remember Ezra really taking in as much as he'd dished.

"I don't understand." I said.

"Ezra chose to help me himself, but it came with some consequences."

"Shouldn't you be with him?"

"Yes."

I plopped myself back down where I was laying, feeling somewhat.. sad. For many reasons.

She smiled. "But I should also be with you."

I returned her warm smile. "Thank you." My voice was barely audible.

"Now, want to tell me what happened in your own words? I'm sure my Reaper may have left out a few minor details."

"Minor? Ha." I rubbed my temples to emphasize the headache those two knuckleheads had given me. "Definitely left out some details. Though it's arguable as to whether they're minor or not."

"As strange as this is about to sound, I'm glad I was too out of it to see it. God only knows what I would've done."

"Not scream your head off in the middle of a supernatural brawl, that's for sure." I rolled my eyes, exasperated with myself.

She laughed, "Don't underestimate me, girl. I probably would've fetal positioned the hell out of myself, and screamed like a banshee."

I laughed with her, until something redirected my attention. "Hey, what was it.. what was it that you called me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You.. you called me.."

"Cupcake?"

And that was it, a trigger word that'd managed to set off a million memories at one time, but only allowing me to catch glimpses of them.