“The punishment for disregard of any ruling made by the faction council is steep,” my mother continues. “Your actions resulted in the removing of a dozen Countenance souls from the planet. The court has taken into consideration the fact it was done out of love and ignorance to sanctions. It is with great mercy the punishment shall be carried out at a later date. It will be presented in stages during the faction war. Please, keep in mind the faction councils are in place to direct your steps—adhere to their guidelines.” The gavel goes off once again, sending a blast of finality right through my chest.
“Wait,” I protest. “The faction council wasn’t going to do anything to avenge those Celestra deaths. If the Counts were dealt with blow-by-blow from the beginning, this never would have escalated, and my father—your husband wouldn’t have had to burn. You can’t say that I was unjustified. The faction council was wrong.”
Their eyes sharpen on mine. Anger emanates off the two bookends that resemble Marshall, thick and palpable
“That may be, Skyla,” my mother’s tone hardens, “but nevertheless, the chain of command is to be obeyed. If you recognize a crack in the foundation of the council’s ability to lead, then I suggest you pay careful attention to what I’m about to tell you.”
A circle of lightning, flares above the lake like a wreath. It sizzles unnaturally. A peal of thunder crackles overhead so loud it sends me seeking shelter in Logan’s arms.
“The faction war is propagated by the Fems and the Sectors,” my mother’s hair flies back as though a very strong wind washed over. “It will be decided by the one who can retrieve the sword of the Master from the arc secured beneath the sacred falls.” A red glow shimmers from deep inside the first waterfall orienting me to its whereabouts. “Draw the sword and the elders will appear guiding you to the finish. If a Celestra prospers, the Sectors will enjoy victory, and Celestra numbers will eventually be restored. They will rule the earth’s domain and the Sectors the ethereal plane.”
“And if the Counts retrieve the sword, the Fems take over,” Logan sighs into my neck.
“There will be an overseer established amongst the earthly realm,” my mother continues, “one that will have the power to overrule faction council decisions if one so desires. Much power will be given to the victor who claims the sword.”
“Every Celestra and Count on the planet is going to try and get that sword,” I say. “The species will practically extinct themselves in a power grab. And what about Noster, Deorsum, and Levatio? Wouldn’t they want to throw their hat into the ring?”
“No, Skyla,” my mother corrects. “The Fems and the Sectors have selected their allies. The other factions are not eligible to stand supreme. Understand the Counts are just as motivated as the Fems to steal what is rightfully yours. As it stands now, only the most pure of any faction is eligible to grasp the title.”
“That’s me?”
“That’s you.”
I still believe in my heart that the faction council was wrong for not going after those Counts. If I had the title, I would have had the power to veto their decision.
“With much power comes much responsibility,” Rothello rasps. “I trust you will carefully weigh your decisions without jumping into anything.” He scoffs as though it were a joke. As though I would never be capable of such a feat.
“Logan,” my mother calls to him, “should anything happen to Skyla, your allegiance to the Countenance excludes you from claiming what could have been rightfully yours through Celestra.”
Her words sear an impenetrable chasm between Logan and me. It feels as though our love fell down an unimaginably deep well, left to drown with no hope of rescue.
“He claims to be a spy,” I offer. I should be dumbfounded by the fact I’m trying to aid him, really I should take the opportunity to cut him off at the knees in the event he really is the enemy.
“Nevertheless, he belongs to Countenance,” Rothello rubs his fingers in the air as if he had something to gain from the arrangement.
I examine Logan in this dim setting. Sparks of lightning fracture above the lake at regular intervals, highlighting then detracting from his features.
“I have a request,” my voice quivers.
“Ask me within reason, and I’ll carry out your wishes.” My mother lifts her chin in anticipation.
“I want you to revoke his Celestra powers.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
In a Bind
Once the celestial reprimanding is over, my mother returns me to the butterfly room. Immediately, I send a frenzied text to Gage.
My cell says it’s a little after seven, and I’m still shaking from the out of this world experience I’ve just had. Everything in me quivers as though I had somehow harnessed the power of Marshall’s feel good vibrations, minus the feel good part.
Gage texts back. I’m on my way.
I wait for Gage to appear beside me or on the ceiling or even come through the transom, but nothing.
Please hurry. I really need you. ~S
Something’s wrong. I’ll have to drive.
***
Logan’s cologne clings to me like a ghost, so I change my sweater before running downstairs. The last thing I want is to ruin my time with Gage by way of Logan’s scent.
“Look who decided to pop in?” Tad announces as he and Mom dry dishes at the sink.
“I went straight upstairs after school. I must have fallen asleep,” I say.
“I checked your room.” Mom tosses down her dishtowel, clearly annoyed with the lie.
“In the closet—I fell asleep in the closet.” Shit. The last thing I want to do is out the butterfly room. I can only imagine Tad’s glee while plucking hundreds of fragile wings off the wall.
Mom gives a sharp nod and walks over. She runs her hand over my hair, combs it out with her fingers.
“You were upset,” Mom sighs as though she’s aware of the situation.
“I was.” I try not to let it sound like the question it truly is.
“Mr. Dudley called. He informed us of what that girl did to you today.”
“With a knife she swears was yours,” Tad is quick to interject.
“It wasn’t,” I shake my head completely oriented to the conversation.
“I don’t want you to worry about it,” Mom presses her cool fingers against my cheek. “She was expelled. She’s not going to bother you anymore, I promise.” She cradles my chin in her hand and wags me gently. I wish my mother’s promises had the power to back up their claim.
The doorbell rings.
“Let’s see if that’s Ethan,” Tad shakes his head, making his way to the door. “Although, I don’t know why it would be. He might spontaneously combust if he gets in before eleven.” Tad’s disgust with his faux son is palpable. Maybe Tad will kill him and Holden will be gone forever? Or better yet, maybe he can stick around and haunt Tad just for kicks.
The door swings open. A pale face shoots out from a dark cloak. Gage pulls back the hood of his sweatshirt and beams a smile in my direction. That smile has the power to kill. I could die happy every day as he slays me with it.
“What do you want?” Despite the violent downpour outside, Tad doesn’t let him in.
“Gage!” My mother pushes Tad aside, escorting him inside. “It’s so crazy out there. Can I get some hot chocolate for you?”
“That’d be great,” Gage says while trying to dissect my expression.
“We have a huge history test this Friday. We’ll be upstairs.” I try to grab Gage by the hand, but Tad catches my wrist midflight.
“Not so fast,” he looks from me to Gage. “We’re keeping it chaste tonight. You can study at the kitchen table.” Like they even know what it means.
This is the first time I’ve heard anything rolling around in Tad’s useless brain. Come to think of it, it’s the first time Tad has ever touched me.
Tad lets go and cinches his hand up to his chest as if he just scalded himself on my flesh.
Do
es he know I can hear him?
Mom leads us back to the kitchen. Gage dutifully brought his backpack and neatly crammed inside for added effect a book, wrong book, but a book.
“Thought you said it was a history test?” Mom eyes the alternating numbers and letters on the page, displayed spastic like ants at a picnic.
“I meant Algebra Two. I’m still shaken up about this afternoon.” I clasp onto Gage, look up at him like a maiden in distress.
“In that case, I’ll make you both some hot chocolate.”
Drake wanders in. He looks unsteady and disheveled, smells like a brewery.
“What the hell has gotten into you?” Tad places his Althorpe paperwork back on the counter.
“About a six pack,” Drake gives a combination hiccup plus dry heave.
Tad and Mom exchange glances. “Where’d you get it?” Tad’s hand slap against the table so hard it bounces shut the cover of the math book.
“Big bro’s got me covered,” he lets out a belch that rivals the thunder detonating outside.
Tad seethes at the sight of Drake. He wasn’t that great before, but at least he was sober. Usually.
“Get to bed.” Tad calmly picks up his documents, sorts through them as if he were fine with the situation, as if the entire scene had played out a thousand times before.
“That’s it? Get to bed?” I’m stunned by his nonchalant behavior. “What about making him sign some ridiculous agreement—making him promise to abstain from alcohol on all fronts including cough syrup and mouthwash? And what about keeping his zipper up?” Although, it’s too late for that one.
Maybe let it slide, or he might chase me out the door. Gage gives my hand a slight squeeze.
I give a disgruntled nod as Drake stomps upstairs.
“Guess he’s not picking up Mia and Melissa,” Mom quips.
“Nope,” Tad confirms. “That’s what these two are for.” He doesn’t bother to look up from his paperwork.
Logan mentioned he had his powers revoked, Gage gives a look of concern before breaking out into a killer grin. I would have done the same thing.
“I know, right?” I whisper. “Since he won’t tell me anything I can’t completely trust him.”
Tad stops rustling his files long enough to observe us from over his lenses.
“Mr. Dudley—he likes to surprise us with what’s on the quiz,” Gage is quick with the cover.
Logan said the faction council will get an overseer. That it’s going to be you, Skyla.
“If we pass the test,” I say it so low I practically mouth the words.
We’re going to win. There are no alternatives.
“I hope we can win, with both Chloe and Logan working against us. They can beat our score,” I say, shooting a dirty look over to Tad who is so obviously, and rudely, listening in on our lopsided conversation. “We’re mathletes,” I say to quell his burgeoning curiosity.
He buries his nose in his work again uninterested in my explanation.
“He tell you Giselle was there?” Oh, how I wish it were Gage with me. Of course, not sitting next to me in the hot seat—simply with me.
Gage nods. You don’t think Logan wants to rule the Counts, do you? He looks doubtful this could even be the case.
“That’s impossible. He’s not eligible, is he?”
I think it’s safe to eject the word impossible out of our vocabulary.
“I guess he would if he thought it could help us, in some twisted way,” I say. “Or maybe he’s just that evil?” The last statement surprises even me. What if Logan’s thirst for power includes the supreme seat of justice for the Nephilim people? Now that he knows he’ll never have me, maybe ruling as a Count is the next best appealing option. God—I’ve turned him into a super villain. “So you know about Chloe and school?” I whisper.
She’s already enrolled at East. He rubs my palm with his thumb as his expression sours. And so am I.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Terms of Agreement
I let out a guttural cry that lands me in tears the second it extinguishes itself.
“What the hell was that?” Tad leaps up, sends his chair flying backwards in the process.
Mom spills hot chocolate all over her hands, and large splats land on the floor by her feet. If I could’ve controlled my response I would have.
“She just found out the quiz is tomorrow and not on Friday.” Gage nods as though it were gospel.
“Skyla! You need to learn to relax about these things,” Mom barks it out as she places the remainder of our drinks in front of us. “Lord knows I wasn’t the best student. I didn’t score an A on every single test. Sometimes I wonder if I’m raising a bunch of overachievers.”
“Funny,” Tad scoffs, “I thought that was my problem—turns out they’re stuck on stupid. The penitentiary seems more likely than med school.”
I take a breath and push the math book away. The sheer presence of the text offends me as though it were Marshall himself. How dare he send Gage to East.
“I think we’ll go pick up Mia and Melissa now,” I offer.
“Good idea,” Mom leans her head towards the kitchen window. “Take it slow on those roads. It’s raining sledgehammers out there.”
“We’ll be all right,” I say, leading Gage towards the door.
I can’t say the same for Marshall.
***
I have Gage pull over just around the corner, so we can be alone, and I eject myself from the seat and jump into his lap.
“Speak,” I whisper as I close my eyes. I need to know why the hell he’s enrolled himself at East.
“I had to confess to owning the knife in hopes of getting it back, but Dudley confiscated it and expelled me as fast as he did Chloe.”
“Crap.” I lean my head into his chest, defeated.
The windows cloud over with a thin film of perspiration, concealing us from the rest of the world. I wish we could live in this bubble forever, have some magical shield protecting us from life whenever we want it to.
Gage twirls his fingers through my hair, peppering me with barely there kisses.
“There’s a binding spirit around your house, Skyla. I can’t teleport myself over there anymore,” he says it slow as though it were the most morbid fact in the world.
I want nothing more than to evict all of the sorrow from this moment. It’s in the sorrow, the never-ending bloom of pain that allows the enemy to win. Their prize lies in our defeat.
I turn my head up, close my eyes, and find his lips. A strum of soothing kisses galvanizes our resolve. Chloe’s attempts to, divide and conquer, only brings us closer. The bones of our relationship are healing stronger than before the blow she delivered to break them. We could return from sand if we had to—form into a beautiful mosaic of glass that told our story in colors.
***
Marshall’s home gleams from the inside. Gage refuses to get out of his truck, says he might kill him if he gets the chance, so I go in alone.
“Marshall?” I shout, shaking off the excess rain from my jacket.
“In here, Love.” The piano undergoes a series of dark rich notes that reverberate throughout the house, set my bones on fire with the anger I’m already reeling from.
I come upon him with all my fury.
“How could you?”
“Your sisters are in the barn,” he doesn’t look up. “The lesson today is proper horse maintenance and the like—such as properly disposing of unwanted refuse.”
It never occurred to me I might try to strangle Marshall physically. I’ve always liked the theory, although acting on it was never in the forefront of my mind.
It feels so good to have my fingers cinched around his neck, molding into his flesh. So completely lethal, even though I realize my efforts will be fruitless. It reminds me of the time I strangled Chloe at my birthday party—the gift to myself. I wish the entire scene was far more reminiscent of when I strangled Holden, massaged his vocal cords with my fingertips. I’d be t
hrilled with a similar outcome.
His eyes bulge a moment, satisfying me with the fact I’ve caught him by surprise. The bracelet Gage gave me for Christmas gleams in this dull light. It flickers as bright as my love for him, solidifies why I’m doing this to begin with.
Marshall cinches my fingers together so tight the bones bend from the effort. He tosses my hands away so violently my arms threaten to dislocate at the shoulders. I let out a cry from the pain.
“I see you’ve been informed regarding the turn of events,” he rasps.
“You took Gage!” I cry the words out as though he ended his life.
“How am I supposed to woo you with his mighty eminence strutting around like he owns the place?”
“I don’t want you to woo me! I never have.” Tears sprout up unexpectedly. “Just give back Gage,” I croak the words in a whisper.
Outside the night illuminates, the thunder snaps so loud it rattles the windows.
“Perhaps I was aware that you were not interested in holding up your end of the bargain, Ms. Messenger? You do realize you’ve entered into a vow with a celestial being. To not keep your word would provoke any level of punishment I deem worthy. According to the rules and regulations, penned by the Master himself—you’ve bound yourself by your word.”
“You can’t bind someone with words.”
“The Master’s bound by words, turnabout’s fair play.”
“You led me to the Counts that day on the hillside, didn’t you?” It comes out unwarranted. I want to know if all of those arrows he speared in my direction were really guiding me to the enemy.
“I left you to find your way home.”
“Did you put a binding spirit around my house so Gage can’t come over?”
“Nonsense, he can walk right through the escape hatch in your bedroom if he so desires. If I wanted to keep him from you, I could just as easily remove his limbs. I don’t dabble in nonsense.”
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