Expel

by Addison Moore

  “Projectile weaponry at its finest—crossbow.” He positions it over me and plucks an arrow from his quiver. “Far more practical for the terrain you’ll be battling in.”

  “Lots of hills,” I say, closing one eye trying to focus my arm on a target painted over a Red Alder not too far in the distance.

  “Relax,” he whispers. He stands behind me, nestling my body in his as he holds my arms in position. His lips touch my ear, and my skin quivers with the energy of a million tiny electrical impulses.

  “No kissing,” I puff the words into the fog. “I promised Gage I’d knee you in the balls if you tried.”

  “I believe the terms of your agreement were more in line with doling out a punishment—if I were successful.” He touches his cheek to mine before dipping down to my neck and inhaling my scent.

  “Marshall,” I reprimand. I might have to knee him anyway for being so insolent.

  “A stolen kiss might be worth the infliction,” his lips curve with seduction. He takes my breath away without trying. “You realize I’m immune to pain.”

  Actually I forgot about that.

  I look him over, his blessed by God features, his larger than life character that exudes an unearthly charisma. Being married to Marshall would be like falling into a supernova. I’d be swallowed up and blinked out of existence before I knew what hit me.

  “Not true.” He doesn’t bother hiding the fact he’s reading my mind. “I will lift you up before me each day—our nights filled with such passion you’ll ache in the interim for my touch to return.” He squeezes his hand over mine before locking another arrow into position.

  “Will there be chocolate?” I let go of the arrow and watch as it spirals through the air like a lame duck.

  “Always,” he pushes himself hard against my back as we launch an aggressive assault on the poor sapling we’ve set our sights on.

  “You didn’t happen to see your future mother-in-law at that meeting today, did you?” May as well milk the effort.

  “Yes, the hormonal carp was present.”

  “Marshall!”

  “She blew me a new one, as you would say.”

  “She ripped you a new one,” I correct. “The word blow has an entirely different meaning. I suggest you remove it from your lexicon.”

  “Observed.” He lifts the crossbow from off my shoulder and places it at his feet. “Skyla, you must be the victor of the next region and every one after that.”

  “I want to. It’s not like I’m trying to fail,” I look over at the plethora of arrows scattered just shy of the bulls eye and nary an arrow where it should be. The crimson blotch against the pale tree trunk mocks me with its unblemished stain.

  “I mentioned your predicament with Ezrina.”

  “Thank you,” I want to lunge at Marshall with a hug but restrain myself in fear Chloe has her demonic minions recording our every move.

  “She’s declined to see you,” he gives a wistful smile.

  “I suppose you’ll offer to mediate in exchange for saliva.”

  “No such transaction is necessary.” Marshall is cold as stone. “I would do anything for the mother of my child. But first, we have someone else to see.”

  Chapter 54

  Body Snatcher

  The Transfer is tempered with cold sterile walls, the icy blue steel that glows off stainless counters. Each footstep produces a strange echo as we navigate the maze that comprises its corridors.

  Marshall holds my hand, and I let him. We are, after all, in some viral version of hell, albeit free from suffering humans and devoid of fire—nevertheless, the demon that is Ezrina resides on the premises. This is her home, her throne, her lair.

  “Can I see Logan after?” I bounce into my words like a child begging her father for a treat at the amusement park.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Why?”

  “For one, he’s dead. I believe it’s time you let dead bygones be bygones, the operative word being gone. You have Jock Strap to fill the interim before we physically acquaint ourselves.”

  “So, I will be with Gage.” A swell of relief fills me. “And, no Logan?” A spiral of grief rips through my insides. I thought for sure we had some kind of future.

  “I’m not here to play fill in the blanks—see who’ll warm my wife’s bed in time and memoriam. Those are your affairs until we’ve sealed our union.”

  We step into a bulbous shaped room with a domed ceiling and light fracturing off the metallic furniture at strange apertures. I’ve never seen this room before. There’s something spiritual, satanic perhaps about the sharp angles, the dome with a cutout window that bleeds in the dark of night.

  Ezrina sits patiently glossing over a book, her finger tracing out the lines as she reads them. Her hair is unruly, defying gravity with its wiry shag, her face deformed in horrific breaks with large pillow-like bags exploding beneath each eye. Poor Nev. This for sure isn’t the shell of the woman he fell in love with. I wonder if what’s inside is still the same? I can’t imagine. I’ve never met anyone as abrasive as Ezrina, well, maybe Chloe.

  “You come with news?” She slams the cover over her finger without extricating her hand.

  “I come with Skyla, young lady,” he says.

  God, Marshall even flirts with Ezrina. His philandering knows no bounds. If he keeps this up he’s going to make a lousy husband, and I refuse to believe it’ll be to me.

  Something about the gold relief work on the window frame reminds me of that haunted mirror. It has a similar pattern of long dripping leaves, acorns as accents.

  “By the way,” I say, briefly ignoring the fact Ezrina is in the room ready to disrobe my spirit. “You gave that magic mirror to Demetri as a gift?” I’m confounded by this.

  “Indeed,” he bows into me with pride.

  “What kind of gift is that? It lets you go in and imagine yourself in the lap of luxury? To have desired people and places at your disposal?”

  “Yes,” he nods, shocked by my negative reaction. “He would have had the world at his feet as he always dreamed, thus it is referred to as the Realm of Possibilities.”

  I groan. “That’s a cruel gift Marshall.”

  “Why in heaven’s name is that?” He ticks his head back, genuinely perplexed.

  “Because it lets you live a lie.”

  “It’s nothing more than a fantasy, Skyla. It just so happens it contains flesh and bone and feeling. If I could mass market the device, your society would lose its every inhabitant. It’s a novelty humans would gleefully trade their realities for.”

  “That may be so, but it’s wrong. Chloe was touching Gage, and for your information, Gage doesn’t want her anywhere near him.”

  “Skyla,” he gives a long blink, holding back a laugh. “Men admire you from afar. They memorize your features while you patiently wait for your lattes, while you cheer with your limbs so freely exposed. They save the image for later with carnal intentions—nothing more than a fantasy. I can’t say one is more wrong than the other. Even so, the mirror exists. I gave that incorrigible Fem more than a mind’s eye view of what the universe would be like if he controlled it. He could have lived within the safety of its confines if he so wished. The only difference between the mirror and his decision to remain in reality was his own greed.”

  Ezrina comes over and touches my neck with the back of her gnarled hand. “Beauty,” the word gurgles from her. “You failed, Skyla.” She feigns a look of sadness.

  “No,” I shake my head backing up from her touch. “My mother, she’s just difficult to get a hold of. I’m going to get you that new trial.”

  “Skyla,” Marshall whispers in defeat.

  “I will,” I sharpen my tone. “I swear it!”

  Ezrina comes to me, faster, more aggressive. I circle around Marshall before jumping spontaneously in his arms and burying my face in his chest.

  “Logan lives,” her bloodstained lips crack the words out. She grabs a fistful of my hair at the bas
e of my neck, pulls my head back with a violent jerk. Ezrina hangs over me like a boulder. Her mouth opens, and a stream of white light pours out into mine before I can think to seal my lips. The room changes diameter, I’m falling, stretching. I land upright in front of Marshall staring down at a waif of a girl, long golden hair, encased in surreal beauty like that of a fairytale.

  “No!” I scream.

  My voice echoes for miles.

  ***

  “How in God’s name do you justify this?” I ask Marshall as we stand outside the Transfer watching Ezrina, well, me, run as fast as she can into a sheer granite wall. A blue aura spasms around her body just before she disappears.

  “This will quell her for now—buy you more time to remove yourself from the covenant you’re embroiled in. Let this be a lesson, never cavort promises with celestial beings that you have no intention of keeping. I’m repeating myself in the event you’re unaware.”

  “I had every intention of keeping that promise. It was my mother who was unwilling.” Everything in me wants to cry but apparently Ezrina is hardwired not to—just speaking feels as though I’ve moved a boulder with my teeth. Ezrina’s flesh is an iron cage two sizes too small.

  “Then let me rephrase—refrain from entering into sacred pacts, when you have no authority. Your mother is anxious to see you, by the way.”

  “Now you tell me?” I resist the urge to hack him to pieces. “No,” it stamps out of me.

  “No?”

  “That’s right. My terms—my way. She wasn’t there when I needed her and I plan on returning the favor.”

  “It’s regarding the faction war.”

  “The war?” I gag on the thought. “You have to get Ezrina out of my body. She’s beyond dangerous. She’ll probably go on a hacking spree from the sheer bloodlust of it all and chop up all the wrong people. And what about Gage?” The thought of her touching his body, those lips, nauseates me.

  “The war can’t be fought without you, Skyla. You’re the guest of honor. And I wouldn’t worry too much about your precious Gage. I’m sure after a few romantic sessions he’ll be quite aware.”

  “A few?” I gasp. “How long do I have to live like this?” I ask, walking through the cobbled streets of this strange underworld. Every step in Ezrina’s flesh feels like rigor mortis is about to set it—like being stuck in a rusted suit of armor.

  “Two weeks,” he sidesteps in the event I should swing at him.

  “Two weeks?” I knew he’d make a lousy husband. “She’ll ruin my life in two weeks!”

  “She knows your routine inside and out. Ezrina maintains she will be on her best behavior. Do you realize this is her only respite since her arrival over a century ago?”

  “What am I? A day spa?! If you expect me to feel sorry for Ezrina, you are sadly mistaken. What Nev ever saw in her is beyond me,” I wince as a trail of foreign sounds escape my lips—they echo in triplicate into the fields. Ironically, I do feel bad for Ezrina, only now I’m less apt to verbalize it since she hijacked my body. “Fix this Marshall. If I am ever going to be your wife, you will get me out of this situation far sooner than two week’s time.”

  “You have her powers, Skyla. You can travel to Paragon, observe, become invisible, terrorize at random. Think of the entertaining possibilities.”

  An image of Gage burns through my mind. He could never love me like this. I wouldn’t even make him try.

  A black wrought iron fence catches my attention in the distance. The white mansion impresses itself into the dark expanse.

  Logan.

  I push past Marshall without so much of a goodbye.

  Something tells me this is going to be the longest two weeks, ever.

  Chapter 55

  Master Disaster

  I ditch Marshall and speed over to the haunted mansion, the prize jewel of the Transfer, in search of my favorite dearly departed ex-boyfriend.

  I’m surprised to find that the inside of the estate does, in fact, mirror Demetri’s palatial replica. However, the color palette is in complete contrast, and the piano banging replaces the hollow sound of footsteps. Long strands of gossamer drape like curtains from the corners, the dust riddled chandeliers drip with melting wax. The cold dank air is dressed with a musty scent that reminds me of the pipes beneath the cabinetry in my bathroom, rife with enough black mold to secure the promise of lung cancer.

  I head over toward the room Marshall housed me in while I, myself, was an unwilling resident here just before Christmas, then Gage after me. His incarceration was far more temporary, better classified as a visit.

  The piano vomits out its nonstop ragtime clatter, violent and surging. It strums through the new twisted limbs I’m forced to reside in, makes my skin crawl with the unsteady rhythm.

  I give a series of powerful blows to the heaving door. I watch as it bloats out as if it were filling its lungs, then exhales to a thinner version of itself.

  Logan swings open the door proving my theory correct of where they might have stashed him.

  Marshall is consistent. I’ll give him that.

  Logan attempts to slam it shut, but I manage to muscle my way inside.

  “It’s me,” I rattle out. “Skyla.” I hold my hands out for him to assess the damage.

  “Holy shit,” he pulls me in. “What the hell happened?” Logan is crazed by the turn of events. Finally, someone who matches my mood.

  “I couldn’t get her a trial,” I howl in lieu of tears. “She just took, me. And Marshall just stood there and let her.”

  “Why?” His eyes saucer out.

  “He said this was the only way to stave her off. She’s locked in my body for two freaking weeks!” A glass pitcher sitting on the table shatters from the ferocity of my cry.

  “Skyla,” Logan doesn’t hesitate to hold me. His wonderful arms wrap tight around this strange thick skeleton, this gnarled quilt of flesh pieced hideously over me. “We’re going to fix this,” he whispers, confident of this truth. Logan’s reassurance seems the only thing I need. “I still love you, Skyla. I always will.”

  I find Logan’s ability to love me in this putrid corporal state amazingly beautiful, just like him.

  ***

  Having Ezrina’s body does have its advantages. For one, I’m able to transport Logan and I to the Landon house pronto to observe all of the wild shit Ezrina might be getting me into. Second, I have the power to knock things over at random and make Tad believe he’s losing his mind, which brings me a mild sense of satisfaction.

  We find the Landon clan downstairs where Mom is mutilating yet another perfectly good recipe in the name of procreation while Mia and Melissa finish up their weekend homework at the table.

  I nudge Logan as Ezrina comes into the room, she looks well coifed with her hair spun in some old-fashioned up-do, makeup to a minimum with far too much sparkly blush applied all over her face at random.

  Sprinkles starts in on a mad barking spree, so violent and atrocious I’m half afraid the tiny mutt is going to bark himself right into an aneurism.

  “Outside with that thing,” Tad bellows over the noise.

  “Come,” Ezrina bends over and tries to quell the onslaught of non-affection but only entices a strange hissing noise to escape from the poor creature’s throat.

  “Geez, Skyla,” Mia gets up and swoops him into her arms. “He hates you.”

  “That’s because she kicks him when she thinks no one is looking,” Melissa quips.

  “I do not,” I protest, but my words bounce around the room, hollow, impotent of yielding any results.

  “Hey,” Mia whispers over to Ezrina. “Can your friend Ellis hook Gabe up with more of that stuff?”

  Ellis? I take a breath and hold it.

  “Yes,” Ezrina nods without fully understanding the implications.

  “Will you drive us to the mall Tuesday? Gabe wants to catch a movie,” Mia is on a roll.

  “For you, anything, dear sister,” Ezrina combs her hair back with my long slender
fingers. “That’s how sisters love each other best. They accommodate one another when they can.”

  Ezrina goes over and tastes the gruel right out of the bubbling pot Mom is hovering over.

  “You like it?” Mom is hopeful her vomit-like concoction will please me.

  “Tastes like heaven,” Ezrina, pulls my mother in and holds her a very long time. “I miss touching,” she whispers.

  My heart seizes. Ezrina is hungry for love and affection. I find the possibilities more than a little paralyzing.

  “Let’s hope maternal love is all she’s craving,” Logan doesn’t miss a beat.

  “I have a feeling it’s been one long hot century.”

  A knock erupts at the door and after a few minutes Tad calls out for me.

  Logan and I shuffle after Ezrina.

  Tad leans into her, “Why don’t you invite the linebacker in. Maybe he’ll vacuum up that slop your mother’s brewing.”

  “Dutifully,” Ezrina nods, “after, if it pleases my lord, I would very much enjoy a constitutional with my suitor.”

  “A what?” Tad snaps. “Listen smart ass, you’re hanging by a thread. Whatever it is you’re planning on constituting, it isn’t happening on my watch. He leaves in an hour, and you stay put.” Tad stomps off, validating the fact he’s an asshole.

  Gage comes in and gives a soft kiss before pulling away. “Everything go OK with Dudley? I swung by, but he said you left.” Gage inspects my new spinster image and there’s a rising level of concern in him far exceeding anything regarding Marshall.

  Ezrina doesn’t answer. She simply gazes up at him lovesick, spellbound by his magnificent beauty, the touch of his lips.

  “Shit,” I hiss as Logan as we follow them back to the dining room. The table is set, and Mom is coaxing Gage over to take a seat. “How can he be fooled?” I panic as Gage picks up her hand.

  “She is you.” Logan is quick to correct.

  Gage takes a quick look at Ezrina. Her cheeks explode with color as he takes her in. Her entire person swells as if she might explode from the sheer fact she’s holding his hand.