Expel

by Addison Moore

  A violent crush of leaves sends me jumping to attention. Another loud crunch—this time closer, adjacent to the bushes my parents are standing near. My parents—how sweet the sound.

  A large dark shadow swipes in and out of the hedges. It’s nefarious, and scary, and definitely not human.

  “Mom!” I bolt over. “Maybe you should wait in the house for us.” Really, I don’t think she’s ready to graduate to flesh eating Fems. Besides, the last image I want to have of my mother does not include her being ripped to shreds in a wedding dress.

  “Are you sure?” She sniffles into my father not paying attention to a single word I’ve said. Obviously, my father is just as enthralled with the conversation because he’s not at all concerned that we might be jumped by a pack of rabid beasts.

  “I’m sure,” he walks her over to the opening in the hedges and escorts her through.

  And, here, my mother was afraid there would be no one to give her away. I shake my head at the irony.

  A set of heavy claws land on my shoulders and knock me to the ground.

  “Skyla!” Dad races over just in time to have a dirty hyena-like creature barrel onto his chest. We lie flat on the moist dirt, the sky rotating above us as they drag us by our legs. Dad kicks at it with his free leg before spiking up and wrestling the beast off his person. He tries to lunge towards the Fem that has me captive, but it sails away with me scraping the flesh off my back in the process, grazing my scalp along the fine pointed rocks until it feels I might pass out from the pain.

  “Skyla,” Dad lands hard on the creature, gives it a bear hug from behind. My leg drops from its mouth as it turns to snap at my father. “Run, Skyla!”

  I twist in the dirt, my left shoulder on fire from the effort. The trees shift position as I struggle to get my bearings. The earth rises to meet my feet. I overshoot the hedges and race around to the back of the house in an effort to avoid running the rabid beasts straight through the wedding.

  I try to glance back at my father and a snapping jaw clamps shut just shy of my nose. The heft of its body forces me to do a faceplant in the dirt. It lays over me with the weight of a small car—its putrid breath, blowing in my face.

  The world fades in and out as I claw my way over to the grass. I can see the bottom of the ladder-back chairs, men’s dress shoes, women’s heels.

  Can’t breathe.

  A growling snout buries itself into my neck, hot saliva circles around to the front and swims down my chest. Knife-sharp teeth puncture my skin, locking up my muscles as the long canines skewer deep into my flesh.

  A set of smooth brown legs with feet pressed into black stilettos move swift in my direction. The ebony shoes stop at the edge of the lawn, as their owner inspects my misery from above.

  “Well, look what the Fem dragged in.”

  Chloe.

  I don’t need to look up to affirm that bitchy whine.

  “Don’t mind me,” she purrs. “Feel free to bury her alive. That’s what she hoped they’d do to me.”

  It takes a moment for it to register that she’s talking to the Fem. Of course she wouldn’t help. Why would she? I killed her when I had the chance.

  My head grinds into the dirt, my mouth fills with pea gravel, and through the agony I can hear the very distinct sound of Chloe’s laughter.

  That’s it. I hone all of my Chloe-based anger, zero in on every acrimonious inclination I’ve ever had and turn, dig my fingernails into its sides until I feel its flesh shred between my fingers. I give it a hard push and eject the creature off me like a rocket.

  “Here,” Chloe reaches down, “Let me give you a hand.”

  Foolishly I accept. Foolishly I’m flying through the air, hurdling over the bushes like a pole-vaulter. I land flat on my back on something soft, slipping down the slope of what appears to be my engagement cake before systematically taking down all seven layers. Gage swoops by my side wide-eyed and puzzled by my latest acrobatic feat.

  Tad and Mom appear, both equally miffed and stymied.

  “Knew it,” Tad yells. “She was planning this stunt all along,” he gives a dismissive laugh. “I’ve got news for you. The wedding went off without a hitch and this is the precise reason I insisted your mother get you your own damn cake,” he turns to Mom. “I told you Lizbeth—cake diving is the new planking.”

  “Take her inside and clean her up,” Mom pleads with Gage.

  Tad speeds her off into the circulating crowd.

  Down towards the altar I see Mia and Melissa posing for pictures with, of all things, a clown. He looks right at me, drops the smile off his face, just glares.

  Shit.

  “What the hell happened?” Gage helps me up.

  “My dad, he’s still out there,” I pant.

  “I just saw him slip into the house.”

  “I need to find him. I need to make sure he’s OK.”

  Chapter 76

  Icing on the Cake

  I bolt up the marble stairs slipping, clawing against Gage just to keep myself upright when I smack right into Marshall.

  “Oh dear,” he feigns concern looking down at himself. “You’ve made a mess of my shirt.” Your father’s upstairs in the game room admiring the variety of creatures his soon-to-be assassin has on display.

  “Nice.” Holy freaking shit.

  I tap up the remainder of the stairs so fast it feels like I’m floating. I bolt down the hall and find an opening to the game room as wide as a wall. Gage and I walk in together.

  “Look,” I motion up at the horrors mounted near the ceiling.

  “Fems.” A voice comes from behind.

  I turn to find my father staring back, perfect and unharmed.

  “Daddy!” I jump into his arms and inhale his spiced cologne with an urgent greed. The scent alone acts as a bookmark to an entire era of my life. It takes everything in me not to find Mia and bring her to him.

  “I saw her.” Dad’s eyes sparkle with tears. “Skyla, so much has changed in both your lives. I feel like I’ve missed a lifetime.”

  “It does feel like a lifetime.” I bury my face in his neck.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt the family reunion,” Gage pipes up, “but isn’t that a replica of the mirror Demetri gave you?”

  I walk over and touch the cool of the glass. My hand melts through to the other side and I’m quick to retract.

  “You think he has two?” I wonder.

  “Skyla,” my father gently pulls me back from the contraption, “if Demetri Edinger gave you anything, I want you getting rid of it immediately.”

  “You know he’s a Fem, don’t you.” I appraise my father in this new light. I’ve yet to know more than him at any given time. Even in death his knowledge has increased, much like Logan.

  “I do,” he gives a sad nod. “I also know hanging around him too long is a sure guarantee to getting yourself removed from this planet.”

  “I’ll get rid of it,” I say without hesitating. “I saw this horrible clown in it, all it does is follow me around. It goes as far back as me touching these pictures.” I walk Dad and Gage over to the haunted photomontage. I pluck out the frame that houses the picture of me at West and shake it, let them watch the entire scene unfold from an aerial perspective.

  Dad takes it from me and places it back onto the shelf. He opens his mouth to say something before reaching to the back and pulling out another gilded frame, ornate with pressed roses lining the top and sides.

  “This is me just now in the garden,” Dad holds it out for us to see.

  “But how?” I take it from him. The picture neatly trimmed, sealed behind glass, the scene less than fifteen minutes old.

  “They don’t incorporate time the way we do, Skyla. This earth is their playground.” Dad glances beyond my shoulder. “I have to go.” He pulls me in, touches the bruises on the back of my neck without meaning to. “Love you. Don’t be such a stranger. Bring your mother, your sister when she’s ready.” He brushes the pad of his thumb along
my cheek before patting Gage on the back. “Take care of my baby.” He walks to the door and gives a forlorn look before disappearing into the hall.

  “So that was it?” I collapse my arms around Gage and let loose a torrent of wild tears over his dress shirt.

  “We’ll visit. We’ll do an L.A. date,” Gage blinks his dimples on and off. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I want my dad to look at these abrasions.”

  I give a gentle nod.

  “It’s also time to discuss how we’re going to bring Logan back.”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  Killing and reviving Logan are at the top of my to-do list.

  ***

  Gage and I leave the reception early because, for one, I’m drenched in frosting, and second, I’m in no mood to celebrate the union of Tad and Mom, this day or any other.

  Nevermore circles the Oliver house as Gage and I pull into the driveway. He fans out his plumage so brazenly it makes me wonder if Nev is even remotely aware of the infliction he caused earlier.

  Fresh spring lilacs scent the air from Emma’s border garden as Gage helps me down from the truck. He catches me in his waiting arms and spins me.

  “I’m going to carry you over the threshold,” he says, dipping his arms behind my knees, cinching a kiss up on my lips for good measure.

  “So what did you think of our engagement party?” I bat my lashes with every intention of seducing him, forgetting that my hair is slicked with butter cream frosting, that I have a mashed candy rose stuck in my cleavage.

  “I think we might need a do over, just me and you,” he says it low and husky as though tonight were a real possibility for this to happen. “And perhaps a more romantic proposal—a ring would be nice.” His brows arch over his pale eyes.

  I wave my forever band in the air.

  “I was thinking something with a little more sparkle,” Gage inspects my finger for a moment and makes a face, as though it were a mere paltry offering of his affection.

  “You’re all the sparkle I need.”

  Gage gives a devious grin and melts a sea of kisses over me as he lets us into the house. He jockeys us upstairs. I can hear his bedroom door shut, the twist of the lock. I keep my eyes closed—enjoy the fruit of his mouth as he continues us over to the bathroom. The pipes twist, a light spray of water sprinkles over my arms, my chest, the left side of my face.

  I kick off my heels, grab Gage by the collar and don’t let go.

  A rumble of laughter escapes soft from his chest. He pulls back and looks down at me.

  “Skyla,” he means for it to be admonishing in nature but he rasps it out with a whisper of desire.

  “Gage,” I try to equal his intensity. “Come on, you know you want to.” I bring his finger to my mouth and press it against my lips.

  Steam rises, fills my lungs with its sweet precipitation. Gage sets me down on the warm shower tiles, still in my dress, takes off his shoes and joins me. He picks up a bottle of shampoo and holds it out like a peace offering. I open his hand and watch the golden liquid drizzle into his palm.

  Gage crashes in with soft kisses, lathers my hair as gentle as handling a newborn. It feels sacred, like a rite of passage to be cleansed by the hands of the one I love. The day melts off me. Gage runs one long hot kiss from my ear down to the base of my neck, examines me under the deluge of rain with a fierce intensity.

  “You’re so beautiful, Skyla,” he whispers. His shirt glows, clinging to his skin beneath.

  “I’m yours forever.” The words resonate inside me long after they leave my lips.

  His cheek rises on the side, never breaking our gaze. Gage is a censer filled with a pure golden fire. His desire emanates hot and proud as the steam wraps around us like a veil. His eyes shine like cisterns of deep water, his lips alive with lust for me.

  “Forever,” he whispers covering my mouth with his.

  We let the water run over us, drench us in its rich eternal spring—raining over us like tears from every love story that ever had to come to an end.

  We are forging our own love into the symbol of infinity, independent of time and space with no end and no beginning. We hover over the cusp of a beautiful horizon just within our reach.

  This is forever.

  Eternity within our grasp.

  Chapter 77

  The Break Up

  The heat in the shower rises to inconceivable levels, the steam soaks in our carnal desires and we manage to extinguish them before we end up on the floor mixing around in the debris of cake and frosting.

  Gage leaves to change and I indulge in a real shower washing a sugary glaze from all sorts of interesting crevices. I think of Gage’s fiery touch and I ignite all over again. Who knew cake could be so disturbingly erotic? Maybe Tad is right and cake diving will really take off. It was sort of fun even if it was Chloe flinging me into the multi-layered wall of icing.

  I wrap a plush towel around myself, cobalt blue the exact color of Gage’s eyes. It feels warm, safe, and makes me want to run out into his bedroom and latch onto him before getting dressed. It’s not until I realize, the only outfit I have is lying in a sopping heap, that running and latching onto his person in this delicate state of undress is a very real possibility.

  I knock on the bathroom door before entering his room.

  “All clear,” he says, clad in a t-shirt and navy colored sweats.

  I love Gage with his hair slicked back. He’s so freaking hot I just want to rip my towel off and attack him.

  “You have any sweats for me?” I skip over, flaunting my clothing deficient status.

  “Nope,” he hides his smile behind a look of mischief. “You’re holding them all hostage. I haven’t had the chance to replenish my supply.”

  “I’ll just hang out like this.” I hold up my hands exposing my barely-there appearance.

  “My dad wants to talk to us about,” he nods over towards Logan’s room.

  “Regarding my thrill to kill?” I arch my brows, trying desperately to get him to remove my towel. I would moan like a dove for Gage.

  “You know what I hate more than you having to kill Logan?”

  “What?” I wince at the thought of actually having to kill Logan.

  “Not going to prom with you.”

  “I’ll be there.” I run my fingers through the wet tendrils of his hair. “And you’ll be there.”

  “We have to make it look real.” Gage shakes his head. “Holden’s going to wonder why you suddenly want to go to prom after not carrying out a single conversation with him for the past few months.”

  I lay my head over his chest and listen to the steady thump—let its rich soothing cadence reverberate through my skull.

  “I hate this, too,” I whisper. “I hate having to convince Holden of anything. Wish we could just flood his bed with water while he sleeps and throw in a toaster.”

  “How did you know there would be electrocution?” The corners of his lips hold a devilish smile.

  “Your sister—who, by the way is working for my mother, who, by the way is the strangest being in the universe.”

  Gage presses his finger to my lips.

  “You may not want to incite her,” he whispers, dropping a kiss on my lips. “I have a feeling the last thing we need is your mother after us.”

  “I know, right?” I wrap my arms tight around his waist. “Hey,” I jostle him from side to side. “It’s kind of like we’re dancing.”

  Gage picks up my right hand and holds it out, presses his hips against mine and moves in rhythm.

  “We are dancing,” he corrects.

  “This is our prom.”

  “You look gorgeous tonight.” He dips into me with a quiet grin. “Have I mentioned how much I love your dress?”

  “And you look dashing in your attire as well. I especially love the way the color of your suit brings out the prince charming in your eyes.”

  Gage throws his head back with a slight laugh before taking on an ultra serious demeanor.
r />   “Would you be my princess?” His dimples flare, no smile.

  “I’m humbled to be considered for the honor.” I hike up on the balls of my feet and sway into a blistering kiss that lets him know exactly how honored I am to be his anything.

  ***

  We find Dr. Oliver downstairs in the back office. Turns out Gage did find a pair of sweats for me, so I don’t have to face Barron, or worse, Tad later in a towel that hardly covers my bottom—was sort of a nice prom dress though.

  I give Gage a secret smile. I so loved our private prom. I can’t wait to do it over and over again.

  Gage pats the couch beside him, and I sit a respectful arms length away.

  “Skyla,” Dr. Oliver folds his hands over a stack of papers on his desk, “Gage has implied that you’re to distribute the fatal blow. How do you feel about this?” His glasses shift as he anticipates my answer.

  “Um,” I look over at Gage. “Yes. I want to. I mean, Chloe has me in a corner, and even though we’re sort of at an impasse at the moment, if either you or Gage were to kill him, she might use it against me,” I glance over at Gage, “us.”

  “Very well,” he takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes momentarily before depositing the frail looking spectacles on his desk. He reaches below and lands a small box in front of him. A long erect needle sits attached to a tangle of blue wires that protrude from the device. “This,” he holds up the unit, “has the capability to stop a man’s heart with one quick jolt.”

  “God,” I cover my lips. “I have to stick him in the heart with that thing?”

  “You not only have to stick him—to do so properly, you’ll have to penetrate the protective shield of his rib cage.” Dr. Oliver looks from me to Gage. “Skyla, you must dig into the reserve of your strength. This won’t be easy.”

  “What if I can’t?” Usually thinking of Chloe or Michelle gets me riled up, but what if I miss the opportunity and am left to my own weakling devices?

  “Regardless, whatever happens, make sure this isn’t used against you.” His face grows cold as stone. “This could just as easily multiply the tragedy we’ve already experienced.”