A pair of arms swoop in from behind and scoop me off my feet. I look up to find Gage lit up in all his dimpled glory.
“You look gorgeous tonight in case I forgot to mention it,” he says.
“Which part? In my jeans or in the dress of steel?”
“Both,” he leans in, “but I might need you to model the options for me one more time just to be sure.”
My face explodes with heat. I’ll never wear that ghastly gown again. I wouldn’t even care if it doubled as a protective shield from Fems. It’s forever linked to Logan and his ravenous lust—the magic we shared in the back of the Mustang. I take a big breath and exhale the memory. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.
Chloe motions Gage over to shelves full of bowling balls.
“I’ll check out the back and see if Logan’s here,” Gage takes off in the direction of the kitchen.
Ellis trots over.
“You find Gage?”
“Yes. Hey, you haven’t seen Logan, have you?”
“I just saw him with you. Why? You lose him, too?”
“Very not funny, and for your information I technically didn’t lose either of them, they managed to disappear on their own. By the way, I think we should have a code word for the light drives, you know, in case the Fems decide to take you for a ride again.”
“OK, how about, I love Ellis? Or Ellis is the best looking guy in school or the on the island?”
“I said a word, not a paragraph on the vanity that is you.”
“Love honeys.”
“Where?” I ask totally disinterested in Ellis’ promises of promiscuity.
“No, that’s the code. You say love honeys, and I know it’s you. I’ll do the same. We’ll have to use it in a sentence.”
“Love honeys, in a sentence, got it.”
“As in, you are often looking for your love honeys, Logan and Gage.”
“Stop.” I swat him on the arm.
“What? You are. What are you doing right now?” He backs away, laughing, landing himself in a pool of prospective love honeys, himself.
Now, where exactly are my love honeys? Honey—Gage, to be exact. I turn on my heels towards the kitchen and bump into Chloe. Her skin has broken out into aching pustules with white infected tips that look outright lethal. Marshall’s payback is a real bitch.
“Come here.” I drag her into the kitchen. “I really need to talk to you.” Now what? Logan said get her into the kitchen, and he would take care of the rest, but I haven’t seen Logan since I arrived.
“Is this another let’s-be-friends love fest?” She can hardly move her lips from the thickening of her skin. “Maybe we can have a three way with Gage and really seal our union?”
The lights go out overhead, and just in time because if one more filthy thing came out of her mouth, I was going to shut it for her. Not that I’d want to touch her in this condition, ever.
“What’s this? Another dismemberment ceremony you’re going to initiate without my permission?” Chloe steps into me.
A square of light appears over the back wall. A film is being cued as circles and dots appear at random.
“I’m outta here,” Chloe tries to dash out the door, but I spin her around instead.
Images appear. It’s Chloe, handling strychnine, lacing hypodermic needles, cups, and plastic pouches with the fine white powder. The images blink out then reignite to show her injecting Emerson with tainted blood. It blinks out again, and this time the scene changes all together. It’s the Black Forest, I recognize the clearing in which Ezrina hacked off my arm, only there’s no sign of Ezrina. This time it’s Chloe with the blade, and at the receiving end of her lethal abdominal blows is Ethan. God—she really is a killer. It goes on for another twenty seconds before it fades to black.
“I have all the evidence I need to pin you for everything,” I breathe the words slow and hot into her ear.
“You killed Holden.”
“A wild animal devoured him. It was well documented by Dr. Oliver himself.” I’m officially a card carrying member of the, I love Barron fan club. “Remember that brief incarceration you had by way of death? It will seem almost pleasant compared to the one you’ll have in prison.”
“What do you want?” She seethes with a suppressed rage.
“I want the binding spirit you invoked with your bitchcraft removed from around my house,” I pause. “And Gage.” Really there are no other words.
She takes a deep breath. Her hair falls over her eye like a curtain as she bows into her defeat. “Done.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Her mouth crimps in annoyance. She storms out of the kitchen, and out of the facility. I have a feeling I’m not done with Chloe yet. Chloe Bishop doesn’t go down so easy. But in the mean time…
I make a beeline out the door looking for Gage and bump into Brielle instead.
Her belly looks painfully swollen with skin stretched tight over the bulge as though she really did swallow a basketball.
“You changed! You looked so hot.” She pulls at her copper curls in disappointment. “You and I are going to have to hang out a lot more, you know, go shopping—girl stuff.”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. I’m still a little leery of Brielle in general, and I have a thousand reasons why.
“You don’t trust me,” her head tilts dramatically.
“No, no, I do,” a little, “I’ll be hitting the mall hard with Mia and Melissa, you can come with.” How much harm can happen to a person at the mall?
“Perfect! And I saw the new schedule. Logan has you down for a ton of hours. I’ll catch you here, for sure.” Her eyes sweep to the side a moment. “I saw you guys at the dance. You know, arguing—kissing. I mean it was more like a serious make-out session.” She gives an apprehensive laugh.
“I wasn’t kissing Logan at the dance.” It was in the backseat of the Mustang, out by Devil’s Peak.
“It’s OK, Skyla, you don’t have to pretend. It’s just me.”
“No really, I wasn’t—where exactly did you see us making out?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “it was in a hallway that led to some utility room. Drake and I were looking for a place to have a little privacy, and saw that it was taken, by you.” She pokes me in the chest.
“It was probably just some girl that looked like me,” a crippling sadness comes over me just thinking about it.
“Oh, really?” She arches a brow with a look of disbelief. “Let’s see, she had on your dress, your hair, your face and, oh yeah, when I accidently knocked into the wall? You gave me one of those nervous smiles. It was classic Skyla.”
“Wow, wish you had a picture.” Like for real.
“I don’t,” she wrinkles her nose, “but Drake does. He went all covert ops in the event he needed to blackmail you.”
“Yeah, it sort of runs in the family.” I step over to him standing by the arcade.
“Let me see your phone.” I try to snatch it out of his hand.
“Hey, hands off,” he hikes it over my head. “This is serious ammo,” he shoots a look of discontent over to Brielle.
“Just show me the picture. I don’t even care that you have it.” Because I’m a thousand percent sure it’s not me.
Brielle’s baby has obviously begun munching on her brain. Two Counts probably equal a zombie baby, and judging from all the reanimation going on in Ezrina’s lair, I’d say that I’m pretty darn accurate.
Drake fiddles with his phone in an attempt to pull up the picture.
Of course, it wasn’t me. It’s clearly a case of mistaken identity. The entire facility was like walking into a cave, what with all the murky mood lighting. It was probably Lexy, or Michelle, or Chloe, and just the thought of Chloe and Logan makes me want to emulate her by sticking my finger down my throat.
Drake shines the phone in my direction and steadies it for me to see.
Honestly, I was fully expecting someone like Lexy, or Michelle, o
r Chloe, but not this thing of horror staring back at me.
“Oh, my God,” I say, extinguishing a breath.
I let out a scream that gurgles out of my lungs until it feels as though my head is about to explode.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
The Time Traveler’s Girlfriend
I find Logan and Gage locked in a heated argument in the dirt lot next to the bowling alley. The fog wraps itself around me heavy as a coat—the thick mist frosts my hair like beads of crystal stars.
“First,” I push a hand into Logan’s chest, “thank you for taking care of Chloe, but what the hell is going on?”
“You’re welcome, and what are you talking about?” He doesn’t bother to hide the fact he’s mildly irritated.
“Drake has a picture of you and me in a serious lip-lock—at the dance.” I make sure to include the ‘at the dance’ part. I just want to strangle both Drake and Marshall. Drake for taking the picture and Marshall for arranging the Fem. “It wasn’t me,” I insist, “it was a Fem. She time traveled with Ellis and Gage. She wasn’t even wearing the same dress! It was a bad knock-off.” I’m sure the dress Marshall gave me was special issue like the rest of his things.
“That’s exactly what we’re talking about,” Gage steps in closer, totally rattled and looking for a fight. “He’s got ulterior motives. He just wants you back. Don’t trust him.”
“You can trust me, Skyla,” Logan is quick to refute.
A low growl emits from deep in the forest.
Shit. Logan probably blabbed all about Devil’s Peak to get back at Gage for stealing me, which he totally didn’t. Gage and I have destiny written all over us, a thousand prophetic visions say so. Maybe Logan wants all the credit of unraveling my relationship with Gage—that’s the real reason he got rid of Chloe.
“Skyla,” Gage looks into me with those watery blue eyes, and my mind revisits that heated scene at Devil’s Peak with Logan. I just want to run, throw my hands up over my head in shame and scream that I’ll never be good enough. “It was you in that picture,” he presses out the words in a whisper.
“No,” I shake my head. “It wasn’t.” This is like some bad nightmare. “I promise, I was looking for you the entire time at the dance. It was a freaking Fem.” I turn to Logan, “Marshall used a Fem that day he snatched me out of class, the day of Chloe’s inquisition as to what a Sector was—remember? And tonight he used the same Fem to drag Gage off to the Transfer. He’s got you both fooled.”
“Not this time,” Gage places his hands over my shoulders, “Logan has been running around with you all night. Not this you, the you from your past—while your father was still alive, and you lived in L.A.”
“I didn’t know how to time travel then,” I shake my head, confused, “and I have no memory of that happening. I don’t remember Logan.” I look over at his face, lit up like gold from the lamp up above. I would have memorized his features, gone over them in detail until I could draw him blindfolded, in the dark, with the expert ease of a sketch artist.
“I’m sorry,” Logan picks up my hand and cradles it. “I swear, I never would have done it if there weren’t important things I needed to do. That’s how I nailed Chloe.”
I snatch my hand back and lean into Gage.
“Is that how you’ve been getting into the future? How you’ve been time traveling all along? With me?” I shake my head. Logan, who was once afraid to light drive, now cruises the inventory of time as though he were God, probably playing the part while he’s at it. Just the thought of him running around like that, makes me dizzy with discomfort. “It’s not possible.”
“It is,” Gage wraps an arm around my waist and stares at me intently. “He’s—”
“He’s not a Celestra anymore.” I cut him off in disbelief before blinking into Logan. “But, you found a way.”
A pair of headlights pull into the dirt lot and beam over us, inserting far too much reality into the situation.
“I enter through your dreams, Skyla,” Logan relaxes as though he could breathe now that his secret is out. “You come willingly. You think you’re sleeping, and, as it turns out, you have a propensity to forget your dreams.”
“Logan,” I breathe his name, astonished.
An engine revs up four times as though it were readying itself for a drag race. We look over to the light flooding in our direction. The high beams kick on and off like a warning before it races forward at top speed.
Logan pushes me out of the way just as the metal grill wafts against my clothes, but both he and Gage freeze. They stare right into the vehicle. The headlights wash them white as statues. Both Logan and Gage try to jump the hood, landing themselves in the windshield. A shower of glass explodes as they eject back onto the ground. The car comes back and slams Logan in the side of the head as he slides beneath the fender, pins Gage against the trunk of an evergreen, throws itself in reverse, and does it again and again with unnatural acceleration—demonic speeds.
I begin in on a continual scream, so primal, so alive—it saws through my lungs, transcends acres, time, and space. Its sad song carries for miles.
The car halts to a stop, and the engine idles. A light rain begins to fall.
I look up to see the driver noticeably missing, the frame and color of the vehicle startlingly familiar. It’s the Mustang—it’s my car.
I run over, drop to my knees and stare horrified at their crumpled bodies as a mass of dark gloss pools around Gage.
“No!” A dull ache expresses itself in the form of a guttural moan.
I press my hands in his blood as I lay close to his face.
“Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die.” The words speed out of me until they’re indistinguishable from one another, altogether inaudible. His blood grows cold so fast outside of his body. I want to siphon it all somehow, put it back in. I place my lips next to his, my cheek on the dirt, in the soft velvet from his marrow. I roll my lips into it, taste the salty brine, kiss him with the residue. The rain washes us anew as I linger on his lips.
A series of growls captures my attention. I spike up and find four rabid wolves barring their fangs in my direction. Reflexively I pick up a stick. The smaller wolf with blazing eyes knocks me back by the shoulders. It doesn’t take much to wield all of my strength and propel him deep into the forest with one voracious push. I jump up and give a power kick to the one grazing at Gage’s neck. Something pulls me to the ground from behind, landing me hard on my side. I look up to see one of the creatures airborne, flying in my direction with his knife-sharp teeth ready for the kill—and with great mercy, the world fades to nothing.
***
I rouse to a cool breeze, an echo of crickets off in the distance. I’m no longer in the dirt lot behind the bowling alley—I’m alone—not a soul around. It’s dark. A night sky with a lavender glow ripples overhead. It vibrates like a living thing, not some nebulous distance that fills the volume between heaven and earth as a span of arid gases that soak up dreams and wishes.
It’s the ethereal plane—region one—the faction war.
God, my mother has lousy timing.
The disc!
I dig into my jeans and pull out the round piece of iron. If I hadn’t changed, if I were still wearing that dress, I’d be stuck here.
Marshall’s words come back to haunt me. One flick of the disc forfeits the entire region to the enemy.
I toss the coin boldly into the air, watch as it thumps to the ground with finality.
I’ll gladly let the Counts win round one—hell, I’d let them win every round just to get back to Gage and Logan’s side.
The sky ignites with a brilliant flash. The earth shakes—the surroundings shift. I struggle to focus as if waking from an unsettling dream.
***
The wolf knocks me back into the mud, its fangs already locked onto my neck. Rain spears down with fury as I appear back in the dirt lot—back on Paragon, without missing a beat.
I twist and snatch it by its man
e, give a massive yank that plucks the beast off my body. It claws into my arms, leaving beads of blooming scarlet before it scampers off into the woods.
Logan lies to my right with his eyes wide open, gaping up at the sky pouring down its wrath like it didn’t even matter—Gage to my left with a blood soaked shirt, same dead stare, no affect, no response. I crawl up on my knees and pull both their hands into my chest. I can’t lose Logan and Gage—it’s unimaginable—unacceptable. I look back down at the pink wash on my arms. Blood—my Celestra blood.
“Oh, God.” I pat the ground for an errant piece of glass. Without hesitating I pick up a shard, give one clean slice clear up to my elbow and run the crimson seam along Gage’s perfect lips. Before I can offer my lifeblood to Logan a voice calls from the outline of darkness, just shy of the forest.
“Skyla!”
I look back and see a familiar frame, the glint of blonde hair. It’s Logan.
“Help me,” I plead.
He speeds over and falls on his knees beside me.
“Skyla, you have to come with me,” there’s an urgency in Logan’s voice I haven’t heard before. He’s wearing the same clothes from tonight. This is where he came while I was at the dance. He knew.
A series of screams erupt as the bowling alley begins to drain. Cries of, oh my God and call 911 fill the field.
Logan yanks me up. I falter on my feet as he pulls me into the forest.
“Let go!” I try to head back, but he cages me in with his arms. “Nev!” I cry out for Nevermore.
“You have to trust me, Skyla. Everything depends on this moment.”
“I can’t leave! You’re both dying.”
“Death does come,” Logan anchors me with a dark expression. “You’ll be signing both our death certificates if you don’t come now—you might be anyway.”
“Just do it!” A female voice bleats out from behind. I catch a glimpse of her—it’s like looking in a mirror—it’s me.
“I have to help him. He’s going to die.” I look back at Gage lying in the mud—blood pooling around his body, glossy as tar.
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