Elysian

by Addison Moore

  This was the deepest laceration, Logan ripped from our lives. We had fused ourselves together, and now our flesh was torn, bones and hearts were broken.

  Chloe has to pay.

  There are still so many damn things Chloe Bishop has to pay for.

  ***

  Late the next afternoon, under a blood red December sky, Dr. Oliver holds a private memorial for his brother in the chapel of the mortuary. Marshall is here, along with Giselle, and Ellis, but other than that, it’s just the Olivers and me.

  Emma lights a candle that holds the scent of bitter weeds, a dark rich odor that I’ll forever hold in connection to Logan and his separation from me. I hate death. I hate that Logan exists somewhere else entirely and that I can never visit.

  “In conclusion”—Barron wipes his eyes with his handkerchief—“none of us knows when the good Lord will call us home. We must choose to live each day with love and wisdom as if it were our last. Might I remind each one of you to keep the details of his passing amongst yourselves. Per his request, the population of Paragon will be under the assumption he’s left the island.” He gives a peaceable smile.

  I sigh into Gage, pulling his strong arms around me like a safety harness. Logan had cloaked himself with mystery from the day we met, and now, even in his death, a thin veiled half-truth would follow him to the grave. But it was for the best—everything he ever did was.

  Our small group disbands. Emma offers to take Giselle to dinner, and Ellis asks if he can tag along.

  “See you guys later?” Ellis latches onto me with a heavy embrace. He’s wearing his wire-rimmed glasses that I’ve tried to convince him are much more effective with the ladies than any of his cheesy pickup lines—although, he’s officially with Giselle now. I’m still not sure if Gage has processed the idea. “You’re my favorite love honey, you know that?” He presses a kiss over my forehead.

  Giselle clears her throat and looks up at him from under her dark lashes.

  “Well, one of them.” Ellis gives a quick wink before drifting to Giselle. “You gonna be all right, Skyla?”

  “Yes.” I’m quick with the lie. “I’ve got Gage.” And that’s the truth. “I couldn’t breathe without Gage,” I whisper, leaning into his strong embrace.

  “Sorry, dude.” He reaches over and clasps onto Gage with a half-hug. “I want you to know that I’m going to help run the bowling alley. You know, until you figure out if you’re going to keep it or sell it.”

  “We won’t sell it.” It speeds out of me. That would be like selling Logan, parceling him off in pieces in exchange for useless dollars.

  “Ms. Messenger.” Marshall strides over, and I can feel Gage’s chest expanding over my back, his grip tightening around my waist.

  “I’ll just be a second.” I follow Marshall to the oversized framed picture of my smiling sweet prince. It’s his senior portrait, the one of him in a suit. His lips curve into a knowing smile, and a patina of sadness coats him as if he knew what this picture would be ultimately used for.

  “Have you seen him?” I sniff back tears as I latch onto Marshall’s hand.

  “He’s fine, Skyla. He’s more concerned for you than anything.” His features soften. Marshall looks heartbroken for me and stymied at how to fix this mess.

  “When will we know the results of the war? When will I be judged?” I know for a fact I’ll see Logan then.

  “Your mother has never been known to rush things. Expect her at any moment. However, don’t be disappointed when you don’t see her. She’ll show. She always does.”

  I’m already disappointed in so many things.

  I cut a glance to Logan’s picture.

  “He left a gift for you.” Marshall caresses my cheek ever so sweetly. “I’m to present it to you when the time is right.”

  “Thank you.” Ironic how the time never seems to be right for Logan and me.

  Gage comes up and lays his hands over my shoulder.

  “You ready?” He nuzzles into my hair with his words.

  “Yes.”

  Marshall and I say our goodbyes as we head to the door.

  “Skyla, wait.” Emma comes up with two bunches of white roses. “Take these. There’s no use in leaving them at the mortuary.” She holds them out, and I eye them as if they were snakes. Funeral flowers. I hate the way they look. Their scent has been reduced to the sickly smell of the morgue.

  Gage takes them from her. “Thanks.” He wraps his arm around my waist, and we make our way to his truck, the sky still raw as a steak. He helps me into my seat. I’m still so numb, so lost like I have been these last twenty-four hours. This is madness. This is a curse without reason. I despise this day. I hate the division and unnecessary pain that it symbolizes. It’s the pain of losing my father again, magnified times ten thousand.

  We drive out on the abandoned Paragon highway as it unfurls for all the lonely miles. It’s so desperately hollow without Logan on this overgrown rock. How Gage and I will ever help one another heal is beyond me.

  Gage pulls onto the familiar offramp leading to Rockaway Beach and drives us all the way down to the base. We get out, and I take off my shoes. Gage and I walk hand in hand down to the shoreline with the roses Emma gave us. They glow against the ebony sand as they force us to look at them, force us to remember why they’re here in the first place. We toss them out to sea by the fistfuls, the ocean continually vomiting them back at our feet.

  We settle over the sand and Gage holds me, sheltering me from the breeze with his body.

  The sun begins to set behind the bloodied haze as a strange shade of cobalt breaks free from behind the crimson clouds.

  “Look at that,” I marvel. “It’s so rare to see the sky, and right now it looks amazing.”

  I give a dull laugh as I realize this entire scene is from a vision I once had. And if I knew the depth and width of this heartache, I would have disintegrated under the weight of it right then.

  “Gorgeous sunset.” Gage sighs, pulling me deeper into him.

  “It’s spectacular.”

  “I bet he’s doing this.” Gage brushes a kiss over my ear. “He wants us to feel better. He never wanted to see us in pain.”

  We watch as the roses skim the water, they ride the surf with their graceful ebb and flow. They pull apart, with some of them landing back on shore, some stretch out with purpose far into the sea, and yet some of them drift—never really going anywhere at all.

  “That’s how we’ll be—the seniors from West,” I whisper. “We’ll spread out like those roses.” I twist into Gage and take in his deep-set dimples, those eyes that steal the beauty straight from the indigo sky. “But, Logan, he’s just somewhere else entirely. It kills me, Gage. I can’t take this horrible pain. How are we going to survive?”

  “We have each other.” He lands a soft kiss over the top of my head. “We’ll ride those waves together.”

  Those last few days I spent locked in Logan’s arms, our naked bodies blissfully wrapped around one another, consumed by an unstoppable lust. I gave everything to Logan, and I can’t even fathom what Gage must think of that.

  “Are you disappointed in me?” I press my lips together while looking up at him, almost afraid to meet his gaze.

  “No.” His brows pitch as if he were shocked I could think so. “I knew he had a few days left, Skyla. I had a vision the day you found us battling it out in the yard. Logan was stubborn. He didn’t want to say goodbye to anyone, least of all you.”

  “If you knew, why did you leave?” My heart breaks that he didn’t get to spend Logan’s final moments with him, although considering the circumstances it would have been more than a little awkward.

  He sinks his chin over my shoulder as we watch the waves pound the shore like a punishment.

  “I had another vision,” he says it low, quiet as a dream. “One I didn’t share with Logan. I saw the two of you at the Falls of Virtue, Dudley was there, your Mom and Dad. I figured things out pretty quickly, and yeah, I wanted off th
e island for a few days.”

  My cheeks burn with heat. Gage was hurting, and I was the one who hand delivered that grief.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. You loved him—you’ll always love him. You had a few moments left, and you chose how you wanted to spend them. I don’t blame you, Skyla. I never want you to feel guilty about that. I want you to cherish those memories. If I could bring him back to you, I would.”

  Gage wraps his arms tight around me and takes in the scent from my neck.

  “Thank you for loving me,” I say. I twist around and look into those watery-blue eyes. “And thank you for letting me love you—forever.”

  40

  Last Dance

  June

  Paragon stands firm, undeniable, arrogant against the backdrop of this dismal reality while the world spins as though it were eternal.

  Days bled by in a dizzying blur after the time Logan left us, with Gage as my rock, Marshall as my ever-present shield. School droned on with its endless lists of demands, its constant nagging for my attention until the final days of senior year were upon us like a salve. Shockingly, even Ellis’s parties went on without Logan. Life held its face to the wind and pushed through those Logan-free days as if he never existed, as if he never mattered. The world was cruel and heartless again, just like the days that dragged on after the passing of my father. Every moment since his passing was heavy, grief had wrapped itself around me like a lead blanket. My world was covered in sackcloth and ashes.

  I tried going back to him, to visit that December day when I became his wife, but every moment we ever spent together was on spiritual lockdown. A binding spirit to my left—to my right, not a place to find my Logan. Heaven was holding him hostage, and I had to live with the pain. Even the Counts were against us. Wes withheld his need for my blood. Something extracurricular was keeping us apart, and I hated it. I would have laid down for Wesley, made love to him with a blinding passion, if only he had let me see Logan in the dark, serrated world of Tenebrous.

  The factions remain as they were. My mother holds her judgments to the vest. Had they come in? Had she already damned me to a life as Ezrina? I had no idea, no hint of a clue on the horizon. She could take a decade to decide. At the rate in which she’s going, it feels as if the entire war was for not—that Logan sacrificed his life for nothing.

  I crack open my bedroom window, and Nev flies to the ledge.

  “Come in,” I say, sounding far more chipper than I have since December. It’s prom night, and in a few short hours I’ll be swaying on the dance floor with sweet, handsome, Gage.

  Gage has been extra careful not to step on Logan’s toes since we lost him. He’s been nothing but a gentleman with his platonic kisses placed high on my cheek, his arms wrapped around me like a fortress. Gage and I both received our acceptance letters to Host last month. I don’t know how I’d navigate college without him, let alone life.

  Nev bounces over to my bed, and I’m quick to join him with my hand curved over his heart.

  The trial has come to an end, Skyla.

  “Shit.” It pumps from me with fear. “Has she passed her judgment?”

  They’re in deliberations as we speak.

  “Oh,” I say lackluster. “Don’t hold your breath. They’ve been known to take their time.”

  Emerson squawks as she latches her talons on the edge of the cage and rattles it.

  “She’s so freaking demanding.” I get up and let her out. Her black feathers spray out over the room as she darts from wall to wall. It took three boxes of hair dye to get it to the exact shade of midnight she demanded, and even with that she barely approved. Not to mention the fact the entire incident left Tad questioning my sanity once again. “She likes her freedom,” I say, plopping back on the bed and touching my fingers to Nev. “But not enough to bolt out the window.” Not once has Emerson tried to fly away.

  It’s a frightening world out there, Skyla. And in here she has you. She tells me your sisters treat her well. She speaks highly of Mia in particular.

  “True story. You would think Mia was part cat the way she drags dead mice in here.” I stick my tongue out at the thought.

  A loud, howling scream curdles from downstairs, and my heart jumps into my throat.

  I tear my way down to the family room only to find the horror of all horrors taking place.

  Tad schleps in the kiddie pool from the deck, the exact one my mother purchased to conduct her homebirth in.

  “Where is she?” I scan the couch, but all I see is Ethan with his hand down his pants. Drake is on the opposite end, drooling while fixated on some swimsuit competition they’re watching on TV.

  Mom waddles into the room with a hand over her swollen belly.

  “Looks like this basketball I swallowed has finally decided to make its debut.” She gives a pained smile while my sisters help her to the sofa. Melissa struggles to balance Beau on her hip even though he’s huge for a one year old.

  I hate to break it to Mom, but she looks more like she swallowed a bear rather than a simple ball. I can’t believe she’s only housing one mini Count in there. God knows it’s going to tear her to pieces if she tries to push that thing out.

  “Now everybody, go, shoo.” She pulls Beau in for one quick kiss before batting her hands at Mia and Melissa. “My plan was never to traumatize you.” She lets out a harrowing cry that sets my skin on fire.

  Shit!

  “What should I do?” I run over. “Who should I call?”

  “I’ve got it handled,” Tad barks, lugging in the hose from outside as he begins filling the giant tub. “Isis should be here any minute.”

  “Isis?” I panic over the idea. First she’s a fake psychologist, and now she’s an equally fake gynecologist? The connection is a loose one at best.

  “Demetri swears she’s the best doula on the planet.” Mom pulls me in. “She delivered Moses.” She bites down on her lip in excitement.

  “Geez.” I roll my eyes. “The only Red Sea around here will be in that bathtub. Just say the word, and I’ll have an ambulance here in less than five minutes.”

  “Oh, hon, you can’t stay.” She grits her teeth and takes in a series of violent breaths. Tad leans in, and she knots her fingers in his hair. She pulls and tugs at him until they’re both grunting for their sanity then the terror subsides and her face restores a reasonable amount of calm. “It’s prom, Skyla. It’s the biggest night of your life.”

  I pull a bleak smile. Technically the biggest night of my life was December 13th, the night I became Logan’s wife and lover in a fit of delirious passion—although it ended all too quickly. Thirteen never was a lucky number.

  My face crumbles at the thought, and Mom reaches over in an effort to comfort me.

  “You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” She says it sweetly as she brushes the hair from my eyes. “Go out there tonight and dance with Gage. That boy loves you, Skyla. He can heal this pain if you let him.”

  I press my lips together and nod. “I was thinking maybe it’s time we got our relationship back on track. I really miss him in that way.” I don’t dare tell her we’ve been holed up in the butterfly room every single night since that fateful day when my celestial mother took Logan from us. That he held me through those long, lonely hours or else I would have evaporated from grief completely by now. Gage has been patient, outright stalwart with his love for me. Tonight I’m going to turn all that around with a kiss that lets him know exactly how I feel.

  “Now get out!” Mom rips the words from the top of her lungs like a woman possessed. “Get out!” She shrieks, and I run all the way to Brielle’s to get ready for prom.

  ***

  “How do I look?” Brielle holds her hands out. She’s got on a gold sequin dress that dips just shy of her hips and a pair of silver glittering heels. She makes a face staring down at them. “They were on sale.”

  Brielle’s bedroom is doused in pink and blue toile, the floor cluttered
with the remnants of her closet.

  “You look fantastic.” I give her a brief hug. “Why does it feel like we’ve been through a war?”

  “Because we have.” She pulls back and presses her thumb into my check. “You gotta blend that blush, Skyla. It’s prom, not Halloween.”

  “Right,” I say, looking at myself in the full-length mirror. Marshall thought it best if I chose my own dress for the occasion, most likely because I told him I was on my own for this one. Brielle and I hit the mall a couple weeks ago and scoured and hunted, but nothing really stuck out at me. It’s nothing special, a black lace dress that stops mid-thigh, a pink bow over my hip—Logan’s necklace with the protective hedge and heart dangle from my chest.

  “You look amazing, Skyla.” She makes a face as she inspects my choice of accessories. “But that necklace does you no favors.”

  “Are you kidding?” I hold the watery heart in my hand and remember how it felt to have Logan laying over me with nothing but his scorching flesh—how he kissed this tiny mirror and asked me to remember us like that. I press it to my lips like it were his skin. “I think it’s the best part.”

  We make our way downstairs onto the patio where Darla snaps pictures of us just as Demetri’s SUV pulls up in a panic. Figures.

  He speeds out and bolts toward the three of us.

  “Ladies.” He gives a brief nod. “Skyla, I hear your mother is in the throes of labor.” His face bleaches out as he says it.

  A harrowing cry comes from next door as my mother alerts the neighborhood to her misfortune of having slept with my stepfather.

  “Come here.” I step over by the railing, and he slinks along with his eyes fixed over at the Landon house as if Mom might skyrocket out of a window at any given moment.

  “What is it, Skyla?” He looks past me perturbed as my mother lets out another cry of anguish.

  “Did Wesley die?” My stomach pinches with grief at the thought.

  “What business is it of yours?” He snaps back to attention. The malevolent smile slips from his face for the very first time.