Expel

by Addison Moore

  “Of course, I am.” Mom offers an incensed look that ensures a verbal assault once we get back in the car.

  “I apologize, Skyla,” Demetri drops his arm to his side. “Your mother and I are simply old friends, nothing more.”

  “I just thought I’d throw out the obvious,” I shrug. “She’s very much in love. In fact, she’s getting married to my stepfather again.” How she could possibly stomach saying yes twice, I will never know.

  “Another wedding on the horizon?” He feigns enthusiasm as he motions for Mom to guide us up the stairs.

  “Oh, it’s just our first anniversary is coming up, and we thought it might be fun to renew the vows.” She brushes it off as if the idea were childish to begin with.

  “Where’s the venue?” He stops shy of opening the door.

  “It’s just a little thing we’re doing in the backyard. You know, with a weenie roast afterwards. No big deal. Of course, you’re invited.”

  “Backyard? Sausages?” He scoffs, holding back a laugh. “I won’t hear of it. Have it at the estate. I implore you to at least consider it.”

  Perfect. Tad can never compete with Demetri now.

  “Are you sure? I could never impose,” she bats away the thought.

  He picks up her hand and presses his lips to the back, looks up at her with those dark mysterious eyes that killed my father.

  “You deserve all of the splendor and majesty life could afford on your wedding day, Lizbeth. And I’m here to make sure you have it all.”

  Splendor—majesty? I’m here to make sure you have it all?

  Yeah, right.

  Just friends my ass.

  Chapter 27

  Smooth Operator

  Demetri leads us inside. Surprisingly, it looks a lot less Transfer, and a lot homier in an opulent museum, art gallery—safe house for Fems, sort of way. Creamy marble floors, expansive ceilings, a double grand staircase that sweeps up with intricate ironwork. An enormous chandelier sparkles overhead, dripping with crystal formed into long pointed spears. Not one sign of the dearly departed, expending dated fashions the way they do down under or wherever the hell the Transfer really is.

  Demetri leads us through one giant expanse after another until we hit a wall of windows that expose the glory of his paradise-like backyard. An oversized pool sits adorned with fountains that splash heavenly blue waters into oversized bowls made of stone.

  Foliage and flowers I have never seen before crawl along either side of the walk. A wall of roses leads into a maze of flora and fauna with hedges twice as tall as a man. It’s all, right out of a storybook, and knowing Demetri, it might, quite literally, be. He’s a freaking mentalist. He’s probably been inventorying my mother’s brain for her idea of the perfect abode and produced it on command in an attempt to further lure her into his chamber.

  “Would you look at this?” My mother groans with an ache I’ve never heard her dispense before. Desire springs for all the things she can grasp with her eyes. It’s doubtful she isn’t having remorse over marrying Tad at this very moment. The covetous hunger in her suggests she’d flag down the first divorce lawyer that crosses our path and have that wedding with Demetri come April.

  “Shall we?” He holds the door open to the back for us.

  A heavenly scent of exotic blossoms greets us—so sickly sweet is the aroma of their nectar, I swear, there must be calories involved. A spray of pink open-faced flowers I’ve never seen before dots the delicate black ivy—an entire gazebo covered with lavender wisteria demands our attention off the back. This is nothing short of spectacular, a breathtaking horticulture wonder.

  Forget my mother’s wedding—I want to marry Gage right here in this perfect paradise. I play with the ring he gave me that symbolizes our forever brand of love and wander away from my mother and Demetri who have become embroiled in their own conversation regarding lobster, filet mignon and other things that will most likely take Tad out of the wedding equation rather swiftly and permanently.

  I had never even thought of what my wedding to Gage might be like, outside of that courthouse vision he had. It would seem that part already came true after my court hearing when the judge stared Gage in the face and told him to kiss his bride, a.k.a. me, but I know for a fact, deep in my heart, that I’ll be marrying Gage one day.

  I hate that this is Demetri’s grandfather’s estate but it doesn’t stop me from getting lost in the fantasy of walking down a petal-strewn path and straight into…

  “Logan?” I squint into the bushes and see a blue velum form in his likeness before he fills in completely. He’s leaning against a boxwood hedge, and gives a quiet smile, so I go over. “Hey!” I wrap my arms around him and press into a deep warm hug. “You feel so, real.”

  He inhales sharply into my neck as his chest rumbles with laughter.

  “So do you,” he pulls back and smiles with his eyes bearing into mine. “After the accident, the first time I saw you—it felt like a dream, like you were the ghost.”

  I take in a breath at the idea. “What’s it like?” I lean in and relax against his chest, wanting to hear all of the details about what lies beyond.

  “I’m not sure. I opted out of paradise. It’s not my time, so I don’t have to go.”

  “Are you in the Soulennium?” I’m completely fascinated by whatever Logan has to say. I’ve never been dead but I have been to the Soulennium, once with Marshall, and once with Giselle and my mother.

  “That’s exactly where I am.” His brows crease. “Never mind, I don’t want to know how you know about the Soulennium. What’s going on?” He twitches his head towards Demetri, so I fill him in.

  “Also, I want to tell Gage about you.” I look down at my ring and sniff.

  Logan picks up my hand and rubs his thumb over the sparkling sapphire. His lips twist with mournful agony. You could fill every black hole in the universe with the sadness exuding from the two of us.

  “Why do I love you?” I catch his gaze and hold it. If I could only have the answer to just one question, this might be the one.

  “Do you love me?” Logan’s face is stone. He doesn’t bother to show me his cards, just holds them, waits for me to purge my emotions so he can pick and choose the ones he wants to keep.

  “You know I do,” it comes out depleted as I lead us deeper into the labyrinth the shrubbery provides.

  Try not to sound so enthused, he says, picking up my hand. A wall of silence springs up between us, a serenity so threatening it looks to topple right over our heads.

  What I really mean is why didn’t I fall in love with Gage first. Is it because you met me in my dreams? I fell in love with you then. I could tell by the look in my eyes I loved you. I’m specifically talking about the old me back in L.A., the one Logan thought it was a good idea to use as a mode of inter-dimensional transportation.

  I don’t know why, he stares into the ground as we slow to a meandering pace. But I’m not sorry you do.

  You said you knew something, I stop to look into his eyes. You said you knew the end and that I should save something for you in here. I place my fingers over my chest.

  Logan carefully plucks my hand off, rounds his gaze over my features as though he were absorbing me into his cellular structure.

  I only know one thing. It’s amazing, Skyla. He buries a smile into the side of his cheek. But it doesn’t tell me whether or not we’ll be together—if we’ll be happy.

  Tell me.

  Logan doesn’t answer, just gives a long blink as if wishing he could.

  I stare down at the ring Gage gave me—caress it from the underbelly with my thumb. How could I be so careless to fall in love with two people?

  You weren’t careless. Logan squeezes my hand.

  I always forget you’re listening and say the stupidest things. I fight off the tears that want to come.

  Logan presses out an easy grin, causing the line in the side of his face to invert.

  There is a purpose, Skyla. If it’s one thing I
’ve learned while I’ve been away from my body, it’s that everything happens for a reason. I know you love Gage, he tips his forehead into me, but, he gives a depressed sigh, I’m sorry, Skyla. After the faction war, I’m not going to stand around with my hands in my pockets. A new war is going to begin. And I won’t give in until I win. That’s the only war I care about—the one for your heart.

  “Skyla!” My mother calls. “Time to go inside.”

  “Come with me,” I whisper.

  He shakes his head. I can’t get in. There’s a binding spirit. I‘ve already tried. I’d better go see what Holden is up to, he whispers, pulling me into a soft kiss on the cheek. Be safe. And with that he evaporates, makes me wonder if he were simply a delusion all along.

  I see my mother up ahead with her neck bent in laughter over something moronic that expelled from Demetri.

  How can I judge my mother so harshly when my own heart lies in two distinct places?

  Chapter 28

  Mirror, Mirror

  Under the watchful eye of my mother, I enter into the gothic estate. Demetri carries on ceaseless chatter with his Lizbeth as though I were never born, as though Tad and the rest of the universe no longer existed under the timber of this colossal roof.

  We had entered into a world which was governed by Demetri’s special ruling, and I have the distinct feeling he’s slowly amputating Tad from my mother’s life until he finally chooses to dispose of him. It’s simply a detail that has yet to work itself out.

  “Skyla,” Demetri waves his hand in the air like an illusionist, and for a moment I’m convinced I’ll evaporate just the way Logan did. “Feel free to explore. Upstairs, the attic, the basement, nothing’s off limits. I’d love for you to familiarize yourself with the premises.” He grazes out a toothless grin. “Go ahead, I’ve nothing to hide.”

  His last sentence spurs me upstairs fast and furious without even thinking through the possibilities. There could be an entire herd of Fems relaxing, watching a ball game up there—enjoying a rousing game of foosball. Ezrina could be wielding her battleaxe waiting to do a flesh swap, or an entirely new batch of freaky things I’ve yet to learn about, nevertheless, off I traipse to the second story.

  A series of elongated halls quarter the top of the estate. I choose the one with a soft blue light glowing in the distance. I bet he’s got his very own glass casket, complete with Ezrina’s homemade keeping solution that juices the Counts into existence each time one of them pops off unexpectedly. This I’ve gotta see.

  I speed down the hall and approach a huge archway, pausing just shy of the entry and peer inside.

  It’s a…library?

  A giant overgrown lava lamp sits in the corner. It stretches from floor to ceiling with three blobs of aquamarine goo lethargically oozing towards the surface.

  That’s it? That’s the big unearthly reveal?

  I step inside and peruse Demetri’s reading selections, old classics, probably first print runs worth millions. Leather-bound spines gleam with gilded lettering, line an entire third of the room. Another series of clothbound books run the distance around the lower circumference. They show their age, faded and disintegrating along the hard lined seams. Their lowbrow consumable status, cowers in the recesses of the heavily shelved unit. If you hadn’t seen them dancing around the periphery you might never know they were present and accounted for.

  I make my way deeper into the room. A leather-tufted sectional complete with animal print throw pillows adorn the lower portion of the room.

  I have to admit, that as far as home libraries go, this one’s a stunner, a praiseworthy relic of literary recognition that would set any scholar agog with affection for the infinity of resources. I run my fingers against the spines at random in the event the wall decides to spin and expose a secret room, but nothing. I reach the end of the aisle and a glimmer of light catches my attention.

  “Crap,” I whisper.

  At the base of the long wall of bookshelves is a narrow entry about a foot wide leading to yet another room. An entire corner of the wall is missing leaving a gaping hole in its absence. It’s brightly lit inside. It looks rather unassuming from what I can tell with yet another sectional, a circular glass coffee table, so I turn sideways and squeeze my way inside without hesitation.

  I look up and startle at the horrific sight above me. Instinctually I close my eyes and let out a scream that sears my throat with its invasive barb.

  Each wall is lined with mounted creatures, lions with distinctly humanlike faces, oversized cat’s with tourmaline stones set as eyes, a bearlike animal with ivory fangs that drip down to his throat.

  I’ve seen these things before, not in my nightmares but in my waking hours, during my flesh-bearing tournament with Fems. It’s a catalog of all the otherworldly creatures I’ve seen and some I’ve yet to encounter. I bolt for the exit and smash into a wall.

  It’s gone!

  I pat the stone lined corner from where I entered only to find it sealed over.

  “Shit!” A part of me isn’t that worried. My mother is here after all, and there’s no way she’d leave without me. Unless, of course, she thought I ran away again, or worse, she’s in on this horror.

  I spin on my heels and walk along the border of the room, nothing but shelves upon shelves of strange collectables. Pewter beasts that I’m unable to classify sit in various poses with ruby cut eyes, an entire section of glass orbs with what looks like real fire burning on the inside. They’re fascinating. I want to pick one up, but I know better. They probably have the capability to launch me clear into another dimension, into a real fire. Or who knows? I might spontaneously combust. I bypass the temptation and meander from shelf to shelf inspecting an odd collection of prehistoric toys, long metal-pronged objects that look as if they might double as barbaric torture devices.

  Pictures. An entire shelf devoted to candid shots of people doing mundane things, walking, brushing their hair, a crowd lost in conversation. Odd. It’s as though none of them were aware they were the subject of the photographer’s interest. It feels like an invasion of privacy just glancing at the gilded frames that encapsulate them. One in the back captures my attention. It’s a girl with an all too familiar profile—me. I reach over and extricate it, careful not to knock down any of the frames in the process.

  It was taken of me at school. I can see the effigy of Cerberus painted on the wall in the distance. I have a look of wonder on my face, my right hand hitched up on my shoulder securing my backpack.

  Oh God.

  I remember this day.

  I place the picture down as though it were a snake.

  That was the night the clown Fem chased me through the dirt lot and the forest exploded into a ball of fire. These pictures—they must be taken right before a Fem attack.

  “What in the hell?” I back away not wanting to inspect them any further.

  I move along until I’m greeted by a long oval mirror, perched high on the metal leg of a bird. I catch a glimpse of myself. I look exhausted, my hair frizzing, ballooning up in the back from the weather. My face twitches unnaturally in the reflection, winces and blinks unexpectedly.

  I know damn well I didn’t just do that.

  There’s something about this mirror—I reach forward to press against the glass and my fingers never cool to the touch, just push right through. I pull out reflexively before indulging one more time and gliding my entire arm into the strange expanse. It feels warm in there, moist.

  “Must we learn each lesson the hard way?” A male voice booms from behind.

  I extract my arm and jump around in one fell swoop, totally expecting to see a lion faced Fem, or an over grown cat, but I don’t.

  “Marshall!” I speed over and wrap my arms tight around him. My heart pounds fierce as a prison riot while I bury my head into his chest. I hadn’t realized how afraid I was until this very moment. “Get me out of here. This place is horrible.”

  “Shh.” He digs his hand into the back of my h
air, patting my back in an effort to quell my fear.

  “What is this place?” I look up at him. One thing is for sure, Marshall has the ability to make me feel safe even in a room full of mounted Fems.

  “It’s a trophy room, Skyla.” He pulls a bleak smile. “Might I suggest you forget you’ve ever set foot in here, and please, for the love of all things holy, stay away from that thing,” he nods in the direction of the mirror.

  “What is it?” I pull him with me towards our deceiving reflections. “It’s like us, only it’s not.” I point up at myself. “Look my face is twitching, so is yours, and I can—” I attempt to stick my hand in it, and Marshall snatches it back.

  “I’m apprised of all it is capable of.” Marshall stands behind me and wraps his arms around my waist securing me from doing anything foolish like dipping myself into the mirror again.

  “Tell me, I want to know all about it.” I stare at it in wonder as our reflections move in snatches. We warp and pop as though we were watching images of ourselves on old depreciated film.

  “I gifted this to him,” he sighs. “It was a peace offering after the last revolution—an olive branch of sorts. I thought we might forge a brotherhood with the Fems.”

  “I thought they were your subordinates?”

  “They very much are for the time being. I wanted them to know I would make an effort to step over the old boundaries they found dissatisfying and treat them as equals. It didn’t work.” He glowers into his reflection as though he were scolding himself.

  “Where does the mirror lead? What kinds of powers does it have?”

  “That, dear Skyla,” Marshall nods into his reflection while increasing his grip on me. It feels as if I’m a child, and Marshall is trying to stop me from peering over a very steep cliff. “That, my love, is the Realm of Possibilities.”

  “The Realm of Possibilities,” I let the words roll off my tongue. “What happens there?”

  “Everything.” He breathes it into my ear like a temptation. Marshall is the serpent, and I am Eve, hungry for the gift of knowledge.