So it wasn’t Marshall. It was probably Chloe and her newfound Count witchcraft.
“You never intended me to drink the poison from your arrow,” I touch the side of his face causing my arm to ignite like the rattle of a cymbal.
“This is a psychotic conversation, Skyla. But for your information,” he snatches my wrist, “I’ve let your tongue taste it.” His eyes flare. “Poison comes in many forms. Beware of trampling afoot in terrain you’re ill equipped to handle. I’d rethink anymore binding vows before entering into them.”
“There is no justice here, there never will be,” I say, pulling my wrist loose. Marshall can spear me with daggers if he wants—decapitate me. “Who can win with you? Your so-called Master lets you get away with anything.”
“The Master would never pervert justice. You can hang a life on that fact—and he did.”
“I’m your puppet. Admit it.”
“You have free will.”
“I have less than that. Does it account for anything that I’m the purest form of spiritual being on this planet? How does a girl catch a break around here?”
“You are spirit and breath, nothing more.” His words are as hostile as a slap. “Surrender your nothingness, and weep at how the mighty have overtaken you. Perhaps then you’ll acquire some mercy.”
“It’s all impossible. I’ll never have peace with Gage.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic. You’re at a juncture in your life where everything is possible.” He pulls me in by the waist and tries to capture my gaze. “Don’t you see, something is happening? The world is on the cusp of something unimaginable. It’s trembling in anticipation to see just what that might be.”
“I’m in pain.” My body goes numb from the ache of Gage slipping further from my grasp. The ladder of our world has just lost another rung, and Marshall is the one dismantling it.
“I see you’re bound by the cords of affliction, Skyla” he depresses out my name. “A very wise king once said, I do not trust in my bow, my sword does not bring me victory. What do you think he meant?”
“He was dissolving under misery and oppression?”
“Yes, my love. But he was ultimately a victor. You can choose to be a victor, too, if you just believe.”
“It’s hard to believe in victory when someone, who I thought was my friend, evicts my boyfriend from school.”
“I can bring him back to you.”
I bow my head and close my eyes. Already I know the price is too high.
“Winter formal, I’ll have an enchanted gown for you to wear.”
“Of course, you will.” I don’t care to ask what this enchanted gown will do or what spiritual entity comes with it. Already I can smell trouble.
“I’d rather be sent to Ezrina’s lair,” and then a thought occurs to me, as a whole bucket of Levatio fingers wave at me like a distant memory. I do believe I’d rather take Marshall for all he’s worth. “On second thought, I’ll take the dress.”
***
I beg Gage to drive me to Dr. Booth’s house—yes, house. Gage was reluctant at first but saw the bigger picture once the waterworks started nonstop.
I ring the doorbell five or six times straight and give a walloping bang on the door while Gage voluntarily waits outside in his truck.
Dr. Booth lives behind the gates not too far from Logan and Gage. I wonder if there’s some sort of law that stipulates you’re not to beat down your psychiatrist’s door at ungodly hours.
The door swings open. Dr. Booth cinches a camel colored robe around his waist. “Skyla? Everything OK?”
“No,” I barely get the word out, “it’s a mess.”
He waves me in.
I follow him through the entry and down a long hall. He leaves the lights off until we hit his office, and he shuts the door behind me.
“What in God’s name is going on?”
“I killed Kate.” The words stumble thick from my tongue. “It was an accident.”
“I heard.” He gives a hard nod.
“I don’t know what I was thinking, but I promised that Sector I was going to have sex with him in exchange for extracting Chloe out of my love life—and now both Chloe and Gage have been expelled from school.”
He gives a long blink.
“I can’t do anything right.”
“You can start by keeping away from that Sector.”
“He’s my math teacher,” it comes out a whimper.
“Then we need to focus on the things in your life that you can control.”
“I can’t control anything.”
“You can control who you love—who you give your body to.”
I can control love. I let his words swill around, swim inside me until I almost believe them. I love Gage with an aching affection. Logan blinks through my mind, and I bat him away like a gnat.
A vision comes to me. I’m standing in Marshall’s living room in my underwear and angel wings. He wraps his arms around me, indulging in a smoldering kiss.
I blink back tears. I’d like to think it was just an errant thought, some passing horror that drifted through my brain, but I know better. There’s not a damn thing Dr. Booth or anyone else could do to stop it.
It’s going to happen.
I’m going to risk everything.
And most likely, I’ll lose it all.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Dinner Guests
On the night of Drake’s birthday, Mom and Tad decide to have dinner catered in, since the heavens have depressed their wrath upon us for three days straight, turning every road on the island into a potential deathtrap.
Mia catches me in the hall and pulls me aside.
“You get that darn license, yet?”
“Monday.” I’m so happy I can purr. “Although I don’t know if Logan is still going to sell me his dad’s car. I think he’s mad at me.” He hasn’t even looked at me since that day I had his powers revoked, not to mention the fact he took me off the schedule at work.
“Great! I’ll make sure to have somewhere to go. Don’t go all blonde on me and flunk it.”
“Hey,” I step in front of her, “you’re a blonde, too, the insults yours as well. And if this somewhere to go involves that Armistead kid, forget it.”
“He’s my boyfriend.”
“You can’t have a boyfriend.”
“Says who?” Her entire person is teeming with attitude.
“Says me. Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do with one anyway.”
Mia bites down on her lower lip concealing a viscous grin. She pulls down her scarf just enough to reveal a dark purple bruise.
“Is that a hickey?” I gasp.
“I guess I do know what to do. After all, I’ve got you as a sister, don’t I?” She saunters over to the family room as though she were proud of the fact she’s defiled herself.
Holden barrels down the hall, bumps my shoulder—hard like hitting a brick building.
“Sorry, Sis, didn’t see you standing there with that stupid look on your face.”
I pull him back by the elbow.
“I want to go on a light drive with you soon,” I say, trying to control my temper.
“For?” he looks me up and down.
“Are you going to fight in the faction war?”
Holden nods, unsure of where this is going.
“I want you to infuse yourself real good with Chloe’s blood. You get enough of it, you can overthrow her when the time is right. I went to justice alliance, and they said it was true.”
I hope he buys it by the load. If I want to overthrow Chloe, I’ll need all her enemies working against her.
“OK, deal.” He gives a stern look that says I’ll twist your neck off if you’re wrong.
The one detail I left out was the fact the blood he needed was from the Chloe of today, not the one he has a treble over—either that or my blood would do, but let’s hope he never figures that one out.
***
Gage arrives in tandem wi
th Brielle and her mom, Darla.
Darla puts her fingers to her lips as though she were already drunk and partially on her way to letting out Brielle and Drake’s secret before it’s time. I escort them to the kitchen where Mom has the food all laid out on creamy white platters.
Gage steals a quick kiss, and my insides dip soft and sweet like the descent on a never-ending rollercoaster.
Drake takes his place nervously by Brielle’s side. They sit down and stare at the food in front of them as if Mom had laced it with arsenic. He looks decidedly ill like he’s about to wolf down his last meal.
“So when’s my birthday, Pops?” Holden starts in on the psycho son from Hell act. He’s got the, from Hell, part right.
“Sixteenth of October, Son.” Tad rolls up his sleeves in annoyance. Little did he know that Holden was asking a genuine question.
“So, Drake, what plans do you have set for later this evening?” Tad asks, dishing himself up first with the entree.
“We’re going out with Skyla and Gage, just hanging out.”
Gage and I exchange glances. This is the first we’re hearing of it. Maybe Drake figures if he attaches himself to the good child, Tad will go easy on him. That’s what I am now—the good child. I give a satisfied smile over to Gage and clasp his hand.
Emily is having a get together. Logan wants to talk to you.
“I’m sure he does,” I whisper. I bet he’d like to rattle me around for a good long while for taking him out of the time travel business.
Emily’s get together will work out great. I’ll do a light drive with Ellis, steal his stash, then visit Emerson and finally figure out exactly how she’s got Chloe by the balls—and I do believe she has them.
“Shall we toast?” Tad pours sparkling cider into the champagne flutes Mom pulled out from the china cabinet. You would think Drake achieving seventeen years on the planet was a magnificent feat, which in light of the subject, it probably is. “To an outstanding son, who on this—”
“Yeah, you gotta another one sitting right here,” Holden presses out a rancid grin. “Go ahead, don’t let me interrupt your worship of this fine specimen,” he grunts.
Nice. He really plays the part of pissed off and lonely, really well. Come to think of it, he probably has a lot of experience to draw from, considering he was raised by Kraggers.
“I’m sorry, Ethan, or should I say, Holden,” Tad draws his glass into his chest annoyed.
“Not now, Honey,” Mom redirects her gaze to the floor.
“No,” Tad’s voice hits its upper register, “I think now is a fine time to get this out. Ethan,” he points his finger hard into Holden’s face, “and I will call you Ethan because that is the name your mother and I christened you with the moment you arrived on this planet,” Tad takes a breath, “I have worried day and night since the moment you chose to pack up and walk out on this family. I have done nothing but welcome you with open arms and try to be nice to you, but I need you to respect the fact this is not some barbaric frat house. I have rules—”
“He does,” I interject with a nod.
“Rules that you have blatantly ignored,” Tad continues, “because you have decided that you know better. If you want to continue to sleep under this roof, there are to be no more hussies trafficking through your bedroom,” Tad presses down a finger to annunciate his point, “no more mass consuming of alcohol, no smoking, and that goes for legal or illegal substances, and, for the love of God stop running around making everybody call you Holden! That’s some dead kid’s name who was murdered by a lunatic that’s been haunting this island for years.”
“Skyla killed him,” he offers.
“Don’t cut me off!” Tad wags his finger—his face does its best impersonation of an eggplant. “You think this is all one big joke. I’m sick of it. If you want to comply by my rules then do so, and if you don’t,” he sucks in his face as though he were seriously reconsidering what comes next, “you can find another residence to terrorize.”
“If Ethan goes, I go.” Melissa grabs her throat as though her own life were just threatened.
“If Melissa goes, I go,” Mia stabs into her salad.
“Mia,” Mom scolds.
“I can always move in with Gage,” I look over at him dreamily. Since every other child in the family is abandoning ship, no use in pretending that I want to stay and hang out with good old Tad any longer than I have to.
“Skyla,” Mom folds her long cloth napkin and tosses it down in a dramatic fashion.
“Looks like ya’ll don’t know how to raise a damn kid,” Darla sips her wine as though she had just said the blessing.
“Well,” Holden pushes back his plate, “let’s get this party started.” He hitches his thumb towards Drake. “Junior here knocked up his girlfriend.”
Time stops. No one takes a breath. A motionless second that draws out for infinity seals us in stunned solitude.
“Is this one of those fake pregnancies like these two pulled?” Tad darts a finger over at me and Gage.
“Excuse me,” I choke out the words. “I did not pull a fake pregnancy. I’ll have you know, Gage and I haven’t even slept together. We have not done one sexual thing that even comes near the realm of procreation, and listen carefully because this is the last time I am ever going to utter these words—I am a motherfucking virgin!” OK, so that last part could have been rephrased almost any other way.
“Skyla!” Mom booms.
“Things have gone way off course tonight.” Tad grasps the edge of the table as though he were about to tip it over because that might possibly be the only way to exit one of these nightmares. “Ethan—Holden, whatever the hell your name is, please excuse yourself from the table because the last thing I need is you spreading rumors about your brother—who, by the way, has been nothing but the plumb line of perfection.” It comes out in a blast.
“No, really, he’s right.” Brielle fumbles into the conversation. “I’ve already got a ton of cute names picked out, and Gage is going to help me get a miniature coffin to use as the bassinette. I might move in but then again, not,” Brielle is pretty much just talking to herself at this point because Tad and Mom have yet to pick up their jaws—their faces are stiff, and pale as plaster.
Gage lurches in his seat. Coffin? Is she insane?
“Drake?” Tad swallows hard, waiting for some reasonable explanation.
“Isn’t it great?” Darla pushes into Mom’s shoulder. “We’s gonna have grandkids before you know it,” she slurs, “Drake and Brielle, these kids are no slackers or fakers, they’re gonna make our baby dreams come true. I’ve gotta feeling they’re gonna litter the world with a whole gaggle of rug rats. Some is gonna live at my place, some is gonna live at yours. We’re gonna be one big giant family, and pretty soon the island’s gonna be overrun with the whole lot of us.”
Tad leans back in his seat and stares disbelieving as Drake gives a weak smile.
“Hear that Lizbeth? We’re going to overrun the whole damn island.” Tad buries his face in his palms. “I’m going to have a grandchild. And, it’s going to sleep in a casket.”
I look over at Gage.
“So, I think we should probably go to Emily’s now.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Speak No Evil
Gage and I drive over to Emily’s house in the middle of a torrential downpour. The rain has reduced our world to an impressionistic blur filled with muddied nightshades of raven and sable. It’s as though Paragon has been dusted off the map and replaced with its shadow-land twin, alive with inclement weather, a continual parade of mud slicks—gushing rivers, thick as milkshakes, fill the streets.
Drake and Brielle hitch a ride with Holden because they’re too jacked up on reality to drive. Holden didn’t even ask permission to take the minivan, just snatched up the keys. I caught Tad hitting the wine straight out of the bottle just before we left. Mom made it a special point to let me know my declaration of virginity did not add to the conversation
and to refrain from the use of expletives while in her home.
Emily Morgan, the seer, the prognosticator of future events by way of clairvoyant blueprints, greets us at the door with a third eye painted onto her forehead. It looks so real I jump back a little when I see it.
Tell me again why we’re here? Gage thinks we should avoid the social life on Paragon at all costs, says it takes time away from the real us, and he’s totally right.
“I’m taking a light drive with Ellis.”
“What?” His dimples sink into his checks with disapproval.
“I’ll let Chloe know you’re here,” Emily quips into Gage. Chloe has managed to brainwash the entire island into believing he’s her property. Emily disappears past the tall curio with a vast display of dragons in various fierce poses.
“I didn’t know it was Halloween,” I say, trying to change the subject. “What’s with the eye?”
“Why are you light driving with Ellis?”
“Because,” I look at him intently, hoping he’ll understand, “I’m trying to bribe Emerson into telling me what she has over Chloe. If it worked for her, maybe it’ll work for me.”
He gives a sad consecrated look, as though he truly believed the situation were hopeless.
“I’m going with you,” he says.
“You can’t come. I need the old you to give me a ride to Chloe’s house to see what she’s up to. You’ll freak out if you run into yourself, and, for sure, I don’t want us to get separated.”
“I’ll borrow my truck and give you a ride. You won’t have to worry about bothering the old me. Let me help you, Skyla.” Gage claws into my soul like fingernails, trying to hold onto the side of a mountain. “Let me in. I want all of you.”
“You already have me,” I assure him. “Everything here, inside and out, is yours.”
“We’re a team.” He pulls me in, linking a trail of kisses warm over to my ear.
“We’re a team,” I acquiesce. I’ll always give in to Gage with those kisses. “Now let’s go find Ellis.”
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