“No. I don’t believe in all this psychic stuff. Besides, it’s not like I’m really going to jail. It’s just vaguely in my future.”
“She’s supposed to be telling you what colors look best on your face,” Brielle cackles like it’s the funniest thing she’s heard. “She’s just trying to freak you out.”
“I’m not kidding,” Emily’s eyes widen. “When I took her by the hand, I started to see something. I closed my eyes and saw these prison bars.”
“You can see things?” I look at Emily for the first time in this new light.
“Usually, the image burns in my mind until I get it down on paper or paint it. It’s like it won’t go away until I push it out of me. So,” a slow malevolent smile spreads across her face, “I’m dying to know if you go to jail. I guess we’ll find out.” She turns around and begins discussing the fall color palate with Lexy.
My phone goes off again, it’s Logan.
I’m right outside.
***
Logan and I race to the bowling alley.
“I have three cash drops, sitting in the safe.” He blinks hard as though it might somehow help him navigate the rain soaked road. With our speed and the rain’s velocity, there’s nothing but a wash of sludge pressing up against the windshield. His ability to get us there is mostly a subconscious effort at this point.
Logan wasn’t impressed when I mentioned that I left Gage back in time again. It had happened once before a few months back, but that was all a bad memory now. And tonight we’re creating a whole new series of bad memories. I cringe at the thought of what Gage must be going through.
“Logan?” My heart picks up speed. A fat lone raindrop catches my attention outside the passenger window. I watch as it quivers down the glass as though it were hanging on for dear life. “I know you did something with Chloe. I just want you to know I’m after your secret.”
He deflates in his seat.
“I didn’t know you were in on it,” I add. “I thought whatever Emerson had on Chloe was just about her.”
“Who told you I was involved?” He gives an odd tick, had I blinked I would have missed it. I’ve never seen Logan do that before.
“A friend.”
“I know who your friend is, Skyla.” His cheek glides up, and I see the long comma-like scar indent as if to mock me for calling him out on his sins when I have so many of my own.
“Anyway, if I knew what happened, I could have Chloe where I need her. I just want Gage back—and for her to leave me the hell alone. As it stands now, she can turn me over to the Counts in a heartbeat.” I’m pleading with him to tell me. Can’t he see that?
“Dare her to do it.”
“Dare her to do what?”
“Tell Dudley she knows he’s a Sector.”
“No. She’s already done it once. Marshall is insane about keeping his word.”
“Is he?” Logan grips the wheel with both hands as we fly around a corner. “Are you? Is that why you’re going to sleep with him? Because you gave him your word?”
“Yes, Logan,” I say, miffed. “And, I’d appreciate it if you kept that between you and me.”
“Why? Aren’t you going to tell my secret the first chance you get?” He looks rather unconcerned as though he were goading me for the hell of it.
“No, I swear. I’ll just tell Chloe. I’ll use it as leverage to release me from the bondage she has me wrapped in.”
His shoulders sag down so low they look dislocated.
“You’re not going to tell me your secret are you, Logan?”
“Let’s worry about getting Gage back first.”
Hope stirs wild within me. First things first, we get Gage back then Logan can help me nail Chloe to the wall.
“Do we need Ellis?” Details. I’m going to get swallowed up in the details of this mess I’ve dragged us into.
“We should have him bring us through the treble since that’s the way you went in—just to be safe.” Logan squints into the rear view mirror. “We’ve got company.”
The truck glides to the shoulder. My heart seizes as the familiar flash of red and blue lights swirl from behind. We sit patiently as an officer comes up to the window. This is all starting to feel a bit repetitive.
“Where you kids rushing off to?” The officer leans in, causing the rain to funnel off his hat and into Logan’s lap.
It’s him! The officer—same freaking one!
“My girlfriend turns into a pumpkin at midnight. I’ve got two minutes to get her home.”
My stomach cycles when Logan calls me his girlfriend. It was true once.
“Don’t rush it, son, roads like this can kill you.” He leans in and drills us with his flashlight, wands it over at me quick as lightning. “What’s that hanging out of your pocket, Miss?”
I shrink in my seat a little. This is not going to end well.
And with that, I find myself in the back of a police car.
It looks like Emily was right after all.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Possession
Ellis.
I’m so insanely angry with, of all people, Ellis. I live out the next forty minutes of my life, imagining what it would feel like to shake him until his head flew off like a bowling ball.
Logan stays with me in the detention center until Mom and Tad rush in, subtle as a hurricane.
“Possession of an illegal substance!” Mom’s nostrils flare as she jerks her head back.
“Marijuana!” Tad flaunts the word as though I were finally caught—exposed for the pothead I really am. “Ethan says you’ve been supplying him the entire time.”
“Bullshit.” Forget Ellis, I need to hone in on my aggression on Holden, let him know I brought him back into this world, and I can take him out.
“Skyla.” Mom closes her eyes briefly.
“I went to Emily’s party, and there were tons of people there. I think maybe someone planted it on me.”
“No one just gives that stuff away,” Tad bares his full weight on the table in front of me, menacing, like a jackal waiting to pounce.
“It must have been an accident. I don’t smoke pot, never have.”
“It’s not hers.” Logan finally pipes up. For a minute there, I thought he might actually want me behind bars so that I won’t dig into his questionable past.
“There’s a fifteen hundred dollar fine to get you out. Where are we going to get that kind of money at this hour?” Mom shudders at the thought of not being able to pluck me out of jail. In this moment I can honestly say, I think she loves me.
“I can get it to you,” Logan offers. “I have it in the safe over at the bowling alley.”
“What about Gage?” My chest heaves as I say his name.
Logan clasps his hand over mine.
I’m going to help you, but I can’t help him. I won’t have access to any large amounts of cash until Monday morning.
“Monday?” Gage is going to hate me. He’s going to run from me instead of to me. He’ll be thanking God he has to go to East. It’ll be like his own protective hedge.
“See, Lizbeth?” Tad waves his hand over me. “I told you she was blurting out things at random. She’s got some mental disorder caused by all that chemical interference.”
“I’ll be back with the money.” Logan darts out the door.
“Mom, you have to believe me. It wasn’t mine.” Technically it was, but I don’t use crap like that, so it’s totally worth the lie.
“I do believe you,” she straightens as if to affirm this. “If you say someone planted it on you then, I know it’s a fact. Who do you think did this?”
“I don’t know. It was dark.”
“Where’s Gage?” Her fingers press over mine. God, I hope he’s not with that girl.
I blink over at Mom. She thinks he’s with Chloe—and for once I wish he was.
“He wasn’t feeling good, so he went home early. I was just catching a ride back with Logan.”
“That Chloe
girl wasn’t there tonight, was she?” Mom’s mouth rounds out into a perfect letter O.
“Yes, she was,” I say.
“That girl has been after Gage. She’s clearly not right upstairs. I mean she held a knife to you. She’s probably really upset over the fact she needs to leave school. You think she did this?”
“Yes.” Rarely have I thought of my mother as a genius, but tonight I laud her as such and bow down to the brilliance of her unwitting speculation.
“I’m going to suggest the police question her. I’m not going to sit by and watch my daughter get bullied.”
“That’s right, Lizbeth, go throwing down the gauntlet at some poor girl who came back and found someone else sniffing around her boyfriend. You can’t blame the kid for trying to get him back. And now you want to accuse her of planting pot, on a hunch? Kids don’t plant hundreds of dollars of perfectly good pot on one another, hoping there’s an off chance a cop might stop them for speeding. Wake up and welcome to the wonderful world of my kid’s a screw up.”
Mom blinks a few times before settling into his line of thinking.
“He’s right, Skyla,” she shakes her head, “looks like you were caught red handed.”
***
As soon as I get home, I race upstairs. Mom says we’ll talk in the morning, but I’d rather claw my eyes out and eat them for breakfast than talk to someone who doesn’t believe a word I say. How is she ever going to believe that I’m an angel? That she’s an angel of a darker order? I’m sure that will go over well.
A thump comes from my closet, and Mia comes fumbling out.
“What are you doing?” I jump out of bed.
“I was borrowing your pink sweater, and a piece of the wall fell down. It hit me on the head.”
Oh, shit.
“So, I saw this weird slider, and I went up there. Do you know about that place?”
I take a deep breath, holding it until I can’t move anymore from the pain.
“You do.” She bites down on her lower lip. “What is it? Some secret butterfly hideout?”
“That’s exactly what it is.” Please God, please don’t let her have seen the door that leads into the attic.
“And you sneak out of the house that way. I followed a path all the way outside. It’s unlocked because that’s how you escape at night.” Her face contorts into perfect wickedness.
“Mia, you can’t tell. When you’re old enough, I’ll let you use it. You can sneak out anytime you want.” I feel terrible just thinking about it.
“OK,” she shrugs. “Melissa’s pretty upset tonight over her boneheaded brother. Can you imagine? She called you a slut, but now that her brother’s the one having a kid, she’s all freaked out about it. I swear sometimes she thinks they’re so perfect, and we’re not.”
“She really needs you right now. Melissa actually looked up to Drake and Holden. So you can imagine her disappointment.”
“We should be extra nice to her.” Mia wraps her arms around her tiny waist and shivers. “Hey, I know. You can take us to the mall after you get your license. That will totally cheer her up.”
I can’t help but feel a little manipulated. I really do want Melissa to feel better even if she did call me a slut. She was probably just taking a cue from Mia anyway.
“OK, I’ll take you guys to the mall. But you can’t tell Mom and Tad about the butterfly room, or you’ll never get to use it. They’ll have it sealed off forever, and you’ll be at their mercy whenever you want to go anywhere.” I gauge her to see if she’s buying it. “Remember how Mom didn’t let me go to Homecoming? She could easily do the same to you. No dance is sacred enough for her to keep you away from it. It’s your only insurance policy that you’ll get to go wherever you want, whenever. Got it?”
She gives a solemn nod.
“So, did you go to homecoming?”
“Oh, yeah.” I give a satisfied smile. “And I danced all night long.”
“God, sometimes you’re just brilliant, Skyla.”
I shut the door tight once she leaves and lean up against it in horror. The last thing in the universe I need is Mia with fresh ammo with which to blackmail me. I’ll just have to keep reminding her of the benefits the butterfly room holds. Of course, once I graduate from high school and hit the road, I’ll make sure to expose the butterfly room for the boy magnet it really is. Tad will be filling it with a vat of concrete before I pack my things.
There is no way in hell I’m letting Mia take advantage of that thing.
Ever.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Truth Be Told
A strange film covers the island early Sunday morning. A surreal lavender-blue fog melts the landscape into a fairytale-like paradise. I tossed and turned all night. I sent nonstop texts to Logan, who, in return, assured me Gage was fine—that Monday would be here before we knew it.
There’s a light knock at the door, and my mother lets herself in.
“I brought you something.” She holds up a mug and makes her way inside.
“So,” I scoot up on the bed, “how are you and Tad holding up with the baby news?” I tick my head over towards Drake’s room.
“It’s a shocker. But in a way, you prepared us for this,” she makes a face. “You know, with the misunderstanding that happened.”
“Last night was a misunderstanding, too. I swear I wasn’t buying that stuff off anyone,” technically I got it for free, “and I wasn’t on my way to smoke it.” I was delivering it to someone who was going to smoke it.
“It is an odd situation.” A series of hard lines around her lips annunciate her age. “A couple of nights ago you mentioned you wanted to talk to me. What’s going on?” She strokes my head, flattens the cool of her hand against my skin. It feels so good like this. I feel like a little girl again. My father could walk through that door, and I would wholeheartedly buy into the delusion.
“I know you’re not my mother.” I express it like the words to a very sad song.
“What?” Her face contorts, first confusion, then surprise—then defeat. “Oh, Skyla.” Her eyes tremble beneath her lids. “What happened?”
“You mean how did I find out?” I wait for her nod, for her to admit it in not so many words. “Dad told me.”
“You’ve known all this time?” Her mouth squares out in horror as though it were a greater sin for me to have kept this from her.
“No, he told me recently.”
“What? Like a dream or something?” Her head ticks to the side, stays there, disbelieving.
“Do you know who the Countenance are?”
“The what?”
“Countenance. They’re angels. They call themselves the Counts. You’re one of them.” I could very well be sealing my death warrant. My days outside of captivity could be numbered in single digits, counted on just one hand.
“Is this some kind of fairytale, new mythology or something?”
I can’t tell by the expression on her face whether or not she’s faking.
“What if I told you it were all true and that I was a special brand of angel that can time travel? What if I didn’t ask you to believe it until I took you to see Dad, right now, today? And then, after, we’ll come back safe to Paragon. I promise.”
“Skyla,” she pulls back, “did you experiment with any other drugs last night?”
“Give me your hands. I’ll take you to Dad.” I squeeze my fingers in the air, prompting her to comply.
“Hon, your Dad isn’t alive anymore,” her voice quivers. Tears begin to glitter as she twitches over me with worry.
“He’s alive in the past. That’s where we’re going. I can take you there because I’m one of those special angels.”
***
A citrus color sunrise greets us in L.A. The morning has just given birth to a new day as Mom and I stand outside of our bungalow beach house locked in a stare as if we had never laid eyes on one another before. I keep thinking she’s going to confess to knowing she’s a Count, that I’m
a Celestra, and that she was probably going to drain me of my lifeblood one day, but she doesn’t say a word.
Dad jogs out of the house with his hands wrapped tight around the handlebars of his bicycle.
“Skyla!” He lets the bike drop onto the lawn as he heads on over. His expression flattens as soon as he sees Mom. “Lizbeth?” He glances from her to the house. “Skyla, no.” He covers his face with his hand and groans.
“I was in trouble—and she never believes me.”
“Is this some kind of dream? Am I hallucinating?” She reaches out and touches his face. “Oh, my God—Nathan!” She lunges into him, presses her lips against his. The moment turns private quickly, so I make my way over behind a tree.
I wonder how I would feel if that were me—if Gage had died and I could go back and see him. The thought spins through my mind like a nightmare. Of course, Gage isn’t going to die. I usher the stupid thought out of my brain, quick as it came.
“You’re here,” Dad gives a half smile before laying into me. “What kind of trouble are you in that you’d be willing to bring your mother back?”
“The cops found pot on me, but it wasn’t mine.” I feel bad lying to both my parents simultaneously, well, technically I’m not. It was Ellis’ to begin with. “Anyway, we’ve come to have a long history of her not believing me, and if I was going to tell her about me, I wanted to do it right. What better way than to let her see you?”
Dad takes us into the covered porch and begins to explain things to my mother in laborious detail, the factions—the war—the people who may or may not know what’s happening.
“So, you really didn’t know?” I peg her with a hard look until she answers.
“No, I mean, your grandmother used to babble on about angels all the time, I just thought she lost her mind.”
“Is she still at the home?” Dad inquires.
“She passed just before Christmas,” her hand glides across his. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, don’t be, we’re together now,” Dad frowns into his admission.
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