A thick bracelet sits inside, and I gently pull it out.
I suck in a never-ending breath. It’s stunning, dark silver with black shading in the creases. Twin roses sit on either side of the slit, and there’s a hinge in back to open the cuff. I marvel at its beauty before slipping it on with ease.
I take in a breath and cradle the bracelet clipped to my arm as if it were a newborn. Marshall has a heart after all.
“I forged that just for you, Skyla. I fashioned it for hours with my own hands. The very hands that will shower you with far more intimate gifts one day soon.”
I shoot him a reprimanding yet playful look before inspecting it further.
“I’m in love with this. Your kindness, the way you show me you care by always being there. I’m without words.” Tears come, and I blink them away. “You do love me.” I meet up with his gaze, and he bears into me as if he were fusing our souls together.
“Always.”
And there it is. Happily ever after. Forever. Always. Marshall seems to have grafted his own mantra over my heart right along with Logan and Gage.
“The last time you gave someone a rose, it was haunted,” I tease with tears still threatening to fall.
“It was, wasn’t it?” A slippery grin plays on his lips. Marshall clasps his fingers over my chin and pulls me up ever so slightly until my eyes meet with his. “You are the only one true rose, Skyla. Shelly was but a mere imitation. The roses I’m gifting you are no Fem playground.”
“No—ironically, that’s what I’ve become.” I clear my throat, shaking the idea out of my head. “I’m afraid all I have for you is a tin full of stale cookies back at the Landon house. I’ll try harder next year.”
“Give me your hand.”
I do as I’m told as Marshall interlaces our fingers, giving me a gentle squeeze.
“Don’t look away, Skyla.” He bears his beautiful eyes into mine, and a power surge rips through me. A current so wild and strong fills me that I have to fight to keep my lids from closing.
An image appears in my mind’s eye. It’s Marshall and me in this very room surrounded by older versions of my sisters, and stepbrother’s, Brielle, too. I see my mother and a herd of people with their backs to me as they chortle over something at the distal part of the room. Then as quick as it came it disappears.
“The future?” The words stutter out of me.
“Our future.” He dips his chin, sad for me. “Delphinius gifted the vision to me this morning.”
“It gives you hope.” I glance to our conjoined fingers as they loosen.
“It gives me the truth.”
Marshall and I say goodnight at the door.
“So what do I do about this whole mess with Gage? How do I untangle this horrific knot Demetri has fastened us in?”
“The answer lies with one person and one person alone.”
“That’s very esoteric of you, but I need an answer. Is that person me?”
He shakes his head with tired disappointment. “Your mother.”
“Well, then aren’t we all in for a shit ride. Will you take me?”
“Not with that vocabulary.” Marshall closes the door. “Ask the Pretty One.” He shouts as his shadow walks up the stairs from behind the murky glass window.
“Will you come with me?” I press my hands to the door as the rain sizzles over the driveway.
“If you insist!”
“I insist,” I whisper.
Christmas has come and gone, and Gage is still keeping things from me, still disappearing on a nightly basis, still quiet when it comes to who he really is. The rain hardens, falling over the concrete with its deafening slaps as I make a run for the truck with my jacket pulled over my head.
A mild jolt pulses through. The water needling from the sky darkens, thickens as the heavy scent of rusted iron clogs my nostrils.
I stop cold and hold out my hand to the monstrosity pouring down around me. The salty brine makes its way to my tongue. Gone is the pure heavenly reserve, and falling from the sky is red, sanguine blood. This has happened before on Paragon. A phenomenon only available to me at the time, and I’m hoping now as well.
I jump into the truck and start up the engine. The inside of the cab looks as if a massacre occurred.
Holy shit. This means something. I glance down at the bracelet Marshall crafted, and it’s clean. There’s not a spot on it as if it were protected. And I know for a fact, that, too, means something.
There is going to be a bloodbath. And somehow Marshall will be a shelter, a savior.
In other words—himself.
Gage
The Transfer is neither cold nor hot. It’s neither day nor night in the Counts’ special hell. I stomped through Wesley’s overgrown hovel, shouting for either him or Chloe. I came to ask for an update on the Dolomite elixir. Who am I kidding? I came for an update on Logan’s body. I gave Wes until Christmas to work his dark magic, and then I told him that I wanted it back, in the same condition I surrendered it. I’m lucky as shit that no one has gone down to the vault. Skyla would have had a heart attack if she knew Logan’s body was missing. I’m sure my ass would have been the first she’d want answers from. And, sadly, I don’t know how I would have done that. I’m in too deep, playing a game with no rules—with destruction around every corner.
I’m not about to wait all night, so I jog out of Wesley’s tribute to his ego and head straight for Ezrina’s old lab. That’s one shithole I know my way around. The door to the facility sits wide open, so I continue through the long, white halls that run in every direction like the neuropathic mapping of a brain. There’s a fork in the road up ahead, and I pause. Go right and end up at the old body farm where Ezrina kept the corpses of dead Counts bottled up in blue goo—or head left and hit the chop shop. I opt for the chop shop and find it locked. Who the hell is locking anything around here? I know for a fact the only one roaming these haunted halls is Wes. And him I wouldn’t mind locking up for good. Who knew I could actually grow to dislike an alternate version of myself. Half the time when I pass a mirror I scowl.
My fingers curl around the metal lever, and I give a hard pull until it cracks beneath me. Crap. If I break my way in, Wes is going to wonder why I didn’t wait for him. We are playing a game of trust—a losing one on his end, but he doesn’t know it. I’d teleport, but my Levatio skills have always been on lockdown in this place. Since Wes took over, it’s been binding spirit central. A thought hits me. I’m not a Levatio anymore. I’m a creature straight from the fallen angel himself—Demetri.
My hand lies over the door as if I were checking for a pulse. It should be easy enough to walk right through it. I’m a Fem. I strike myself over the chest like I’m amping up for a play. A flurry of nerves hits me. This reminds me of the first time I went diving, I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact I needed to breathe under water, albeit in a tube but the fact water was pressing up against me from all sides still made it unnerving. I’m going to do it. I can do it. I will do it.
I shove my hand through the door with ease and draw it back as if I touched a flame.
“Shit,” I hiss. I take a few steps back and walk purposefully right through the quarter inch steel wall that stands between Logan and me. My body lurches forward as I enter the room, and it takes a moment to regain my balance. “I did it,” I pant triumphantly. “Fucking A.” I glance around as if I had just arrived in another country. It’s all still here, all of Ezrina’s prized steel collectibles she once used to hack her way into infamy. A metal bed lies in the center of the room with a sheet drawn over it. There he is. My eyes snag on the sheet a moment as it vibrates over the frame of Logan’s body. This is where I laid him all those weeks ago.
A breath escapes me as I carefully peel it back.
“Shit!” I jump a good two feet away as an anguished moan comes from deep in my gut.
Logan lies in state with his eyes opened wide, worms crawling out of them edging their way to the light. His arms, his legs�
�nothing but bones remain. His chest cavity is sunken. There’s not much left of his body.
“Dear God,” I stagger a moment. “I’m so sorry, man.” The room spins. My stomach boils hot, and I puke in quick bursts all over the slick, white floor. “Shit.” I spit, looking back at Logan’s quivering frame. Buckets full of worms roll in and out of him, feasting on what little is left.
I do the only thing I can think of. I roll his body in a sheet and haul ass all the way to Ezrina.
“What a mess.” Nevermore helps unfurl Logan’s body from the twisted linen, causing it to rain Dolomite worms to the ground. I wipe down my tear-slicked face with my shoulder as Ezrina comes by to inspect him.
“Big mess,” she says, prodding the exposed bones of his lower arm with a pencil. “But this is good.”
“What?” I step back inspecting her for signs of humor. “How is this possibly good?”
“We have a fine sampling of Dolomites in our possession.” Her lips expand with the idea of a smile.
“Dolomites?” I bang my fist over the metal table. “Are you kidding me? What about Logan? He’s going to be okay, right?”
Ezrina prods at his jaw with her pencil and a half dozen worms crawl out.
“Shit.” My fingers grip the hair at my temples. “You have to fix him.”
“I can fix him.” She plants her fists in her hips.
“Really? How?”
“Incinerator.”
The Landon house is dark and unnaturally quiet when I materialize in the shower. One of these days, Skyla is going to be on the toilet, and I’m going to send her through the roof if she doesn’t have a heart attack first. So far so good. Each time I’ve come home I’ve found her curled around my pillow, peaceful and beautiful. She’s my real live sleeping beauty. I swipe a condom off the counter and slip into the bedroom without making a sound. My toe hits the hard edge of the new bed Lizbeth and Demetri gifted us. I’m shocked Skyla didn’t protest the idea. I thought for sure she’d flip out and chop it to matchsticks with one of Ezrina’s old hatchets. Speaking of Ezrina, I talked her out of the incinerator and made her promise to preserve the rest of Logan’s body until I can talk to Candace. I begged the shit out of both her and Nev not to fill Logan in on the state of his body, and they reluctantly agreed.
My hand smooths over the covers before I glide into bed with Skyla. I’ve woken her up this way and feel bad every single time. The bed is so spacious I still haven’t touched her. I slip my leg over to the side and am greeted with nothing but cool crisp sheets. The bed isn’t that big. I flip on the light.
“Skyla?” The room is empty. The dresser is pushed out just enough to squeeze her body through the door.
Crap. She must be out looking for me. I switch off the light and close my eyes in horror. I knew it was coming. One day she’d wake up and find me missing. I roll over and pull back the curtain, only to find the truck gone from the driveway. My heart races as I reach for my phone. Something in me says don’t call her. Hang tight. She’s safe—probably with Logan. If she’s not back in an hour, I’ll do whatever I can to find her. My eyes close, and slowly all thoughts of Logan’s deteriorated body, Skyla’s whereabouts melt like butter. Sleep finds me. I’m enveloped in a world of strange dreams, me on a throne, Charlie licking Logan’s bones at my feet. My body writhes as I claw at the sheets. Logan rises with the flesh dripping from his broken body. His fingers dig into my neck, and he hisses, “You’ve done this. You’re a monster, Gage. I have to protect Skyla from you. She’s mine. She always has been.”
I sit straight up out of a dead sleep, cold sweat trickling down my back.
“Whoa,” Skyla moans, pulling me to the bed again.
“Skyla.” I dive over her and dot her face with kisses. “Where were you?” My chest thumps over hers like knocking on a door.
“Nowhere, why?” She inches back, confused, and for a second I think I’m losing it.
“I came out of the bathroom earlier, and you weren’t here.”
“Oh?” Her lips curl on one side the way they do when she’s disappointed in me. “I slipped downstairs for some eggnog.” She pulls me over her again and grazes her lips against mine. “I’m sorry. I should have brought some for you. That was very inconsiderate of me.”
We curl up in one another’s arms, and, for the first time in our marriage, I wonder why in the world Skyla would lie to me.
That afternoon, I offer to take her for a drive. I let her know I have a surprise for her, and she’s bouncing in her seat, giddy.
We drive past my house, and I can feel her mood deflate before she sighs with relief.
“It’s not that I don’t want to see your parents, it’s just that”—she tucks her fist under her nose—“I killed Charlie.”
“Ellis killed Charlie.” I scowl at the Harrison’s estate in the rearview mirror. “He also killed Giselle’s virginity.”
“Well, that’s Ellis for you. He can be a real asshat sometimes.”
“That’s putting it mildly. Speaking of asshats,” I mutter as we drive by Dudley’s. I’d rather chop off my own arm than spend the night in that haunted castle again.
“Be nice. You should be glad he’s tolerating you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Her eyes round out a moment as if she’s let that slip.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just that, well, you’re married to me.”
I give a brief nod because, sadly, that makes all the sense in the world. If I ever caught Dudley with his hands on Skyla, I’d probably be headed to the Justice Alliance for murdering a Sector. The act itself is most likely impossible, but something tells me I can find a way.
“Hey, where are we going? The Paragon Estates eventually dead-end, don’t they? One way in, one way out?”
“There’s an exit over by the old post office.” I tap my hands over the wheel. “No one uses it much because it drops you off in the middle of nowhere.”
“Are we headed to the middle of nowhere?”
Demetri’s estate looms large in the distance.
“Actually—we’re headed right here.” There’s a sense of dread in my voice that I don’t bother hiding. I pull into the obnoxiously long driveway and curve around the back, down a paved embankment to an old barn that’s been converted into a state of the art cottage. Demetri gifted it to me last week as an early Christmas gift and, oddly enough, I didn’t tell him to shove it up his ass. I simply shrugged and said I’d talk to Skyla.
“No way.” She doesn’t hesitate in rejecting it.
“I swear—it’s not as bad as you think.”
“If it involves that bastard it most certainly is.”
Something in me flinches when she calls him that. Am I actually starting to have feelings for the guy? He’s a master manipulator—a killer.
We get out of the truck, and Skyla reluctantly makes her way up the walk. The door is open, and I flick on the lights before entering.
“Should I carry you in?” I’m teasing. Judging by that scowl on her face, I know for a fact this is going to be a tough sell.
“Not if you want to go home with arms.” She steps inside, hugging herself as if she were afraid to be here and she probably is.
It’s cheery inside with white polished floors and planked wooden walls. It has a rustic appeal with antique cabinetry in the kitchen, but the appliances have all been upgraded.
“Two bedrooms,” I say. “We can use one as an office. There’s a bathroom off the kitchen and one in the master.” I pick up her hand as we walk a small circle taking it all in.
“It is beautiful.” She shudders. “But it belongs to him, so I’m out.”
“Skyla.” I close my eyes a moment and see a thousand years of living at the Landon house flash before my eyes. “I know it belongs to him, but we can make it our own as long as we need it. We can have all the privacy we want.”
“Boy, he’s got you wrapped around his finger.” Her hand slips from my grasp. “Are you even aw
are of how far into enemy lines you’ve drifted?”
“I’m not the enemy, Skyla. This belongs to me, to us. He gifted us this house. Whether you like it or not, this is our place.” My voice is a little rougher than I intend it to be. But why can’t she see the light? “It’s free, Skyla. I won’t have to work two jobs, and, on the upside, we never have to wear clothes when we’re behind these walls.”
She gives a slow blink and smiles. “I’ll admit you almost had me, but then I realized we’re on the property of the man who killed my father, and not only do I want to crawl out of my clothes, I want to jump out of my skin. What don’t you get?” Her voice spikes with anger. “Wake up! He’s an ass, Gage!”
“And no matter where we live it won’t change that fact.” My voice ticks up a notch, harder, more agitated than I ever remember being with her.
“I don’t want anything from him.” She twirls toward the door in frustration. “He lies. He cheats. He steals.” She screams so loud, her voice reverberates off the walls.
“He stole everything from me!” I pick up a vase and pitch it at the wall until it rains glass confetti. “When do we start stealing from him?” My voice roars around the room long after I stop shouting.
Skyla backs into the door, staring at me in fright from top to bottom.
“Gage?” Her voice quivers lower than a whisper.
“God.” I stagger over to her. “I’m sorry.” I scoop her in my arms and hold her like that a very long time. “I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into me lately.” I look around as if waking from a nightmare and get Skyla the hell out of there.
New Year’s Eve at Ellis’s is a rocking event that hardly anyone under twenty five misses out on each and every year. And apparently neither do the Transfer dwellers. Chloe is hanging out with Emily, Michelle, and Lexy just like the old days, and Skyla is dancing with Bree. It’s as if nothing has changed since high school, and, yet, in some ways, everything has taken a turn for the worse—with the exception of Skyla accepting my proposal, of course. That was a blessing from God that I will never deny as anything short of a miracle.
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