Expel

by Addison Moore

  Secret Love

  I’m not thrilled about faking feelings for Holden all week. I’m not thrilled with the fact Gage is busy giving me the cold shoulder whenever we happen to glance at one another in the halls, and I’m beyond not thrilled when Brielle does the very outlandish thing of nominating Logan and me for prom king and queen.

  “I love this,” Chloe coos after cheer practice. “You continue to turn your life into such a craptastic mess, I can’t help but admire the ferocity in which you choose to destroy it. In fact, in honor of your pristine ability to botch things up royally, I came up with a new cheer,” she pauses as Michelle, Lexy and Emily gather like sheep. “Two, four, six, eight, who can we decapitate?” She throws her head back, cackling into the pale dense fog. It billows from her nostrils thick as smoke.

  “That’s sick,” I say, turning around. Figures, the one single shit Chloe gives about me happens to center around the botched bag of goodies I’ve smashed my life into.

  “You know what’s sick?” Michelle pops up beside me. “The way you keep toying with Logan and Gage. I think us island girls need to teach you a little lesson. You don’t come here and mess with our boys on our turf.”

  Turf? I want to laugh in her face. It’s obvious I never should have suggested she take off the rose of horrors from around her neck. A drugged and sleepy Miller was definitely an asset more than she was a liability.

  “Yeah, well,” I step into Michelle—too bad for her because I’ve been a power bitch on overdrive all week. Between all the Holden bullshit, and Mia camping out in the butterfly room utilizing it as a seventh grade love shack, Tad and Mom practicing for their honeymoon as they choose to label their marathon fornicating—I’m more than a little bit stabby. “If you island girls knew what the hell you were doing, I wouldn’t have half the male population trying to figure out the combination to the padlock on my chastity belt.” Wait—did I want to say that? Don’t I want Chloe to believe Gage and I have already done the deed and thus drive her insane with the illicit implications—not to mention mind-boggling images?

  I try to head towards the gym but she grabs a hold of my arm.

  “Why don’t we show, Skyla, what we think of her chastity belt?” Michelle glares into me. “As if you didn’t already sleep with Dudley.”

  “I think you’ve just been voted off the island,” Chloe says it low as she steps over.

  A tangle of arms and legs latch onto me. My head is stuffed into someone’s shirt and I’m blindly jostled and pounced. A sharp pain explodes over my back, knocks the wind out of me as they drag me to some unknown location.

  I should break all of their bones for jumping me right here on West’s soil, under the watchful eye of Cerberus.

  My face meets up with the dirt. I look up in time to witness Chloe climbing down from an evergreen quick as a spider monkey.

  Lexy wrestles with my feet. I glance down to see a thick-cabled rope looped in triplicate around my ankles.

  “Goodbye, Messenger. See you at prom, if you make it,” Michelle gives me the finger.

  “Oh, she’ll make it,” Chloe quips. “One of her many suitors are likely to rescue her. Besides, I would never want her to miss out on all the fun.” She holds back a laugh ensuring me of the torment to come. Little does she know I have high hopes to return the favor.

  Emily drops something behind me.

  The rope cinches around my feet so tight I’m convinced I’ll lose them both at the ankle.

  I sail into the air, my toes pointed towards the sky.

  The bitch squad cackles below like herd of rabid hyenas as I sway back and forth like a pendulum, twenty feet off the ground—my cell phone sailing to earth without me.

  “I’m afraid of heights!” I scream as they descend into the parking lot.

  “Oh are you?” Chloe exaggerates a frown. “Oh dear, skanky, skanky, Skyla. I do plan on making all of your nightmares come true.” She sinks into the driver’s side of her car and speeds away. One by one they all take off.

  I’m left alone, dangling, with my cheer skirt wrapped around my waist like a closed up flower.

  Dank sallow light dispenses through the thicket of clouds, recedes—leaves me lounging in the murky shadows.

  Blood pools to my temples, bloats my lips as my teeth begin to chatter.

  We let out from practice far later than usual. Any other day, the football team would be heading out to their cars right about now. Any other day, Gage would be here and not tending to a Holden inspired emergency at the bowling alley. Something tells me this is more than a coincidence.

  A soft rumble emits from the bowels of the forest. A series of trotting footsteps press out, approaching in this direction. One by one large overgrown wolves emerge from the woods, congregating around me like a pack of wild denizens. Their pink tongues light up the dark like flames.

  “Crap,” I hiss. “Mom?” She did mention she was always around. This seems as good a time as any to put that theory to the test. “Um, hello? Unearthly Mother who insists she is available twenty-four seven?”

  The mangy mess stirs frantic, one of the rabid beasts picks up my cell and chews on the casing.

  Oh good! He’s going to butt dial somebody. With my luck it’ll probably be useless Holden, or worse, Kate because she just so happens to be dead.

  His jaw lights up an electric blue, before he spits the phone out, and another one comes over and gnaws on it with a frenzied determination.

  “No! Bad dog!” Shit. “Mother?” I pull up and try to reach my feet, causing the rope to oscillate like an earthquake. My left foot slips through the noose, bulleting my knee into my face. Figures. It’s not bad enough I was the subject of a group beating—my own body has decided to join in on the fun.

  The rope cinches around my right ankle cutting into my bones with a vice-like grip.

  The wild mutts leap into the air in turn. They catch my hair in their snapping red mouths—yank my head in twelve directions at once.

  “This is your last chance Mother!” She said she was here—that she could hear me, see me, be with me if I called out to her. “If you don’t get me out of this right freaking now, I’m going to seriously believe you are a fucking liar.”

  The wolves look up in unison—cease all of their frenetic movements, nothing but a group of twin ruby eyes glowing back at me.

  Certainly I’ve crossed some sort of imaginary line that not even Fems in their right minds would consider crossing.

  The sky ignites like a crackling orb as a clap of thunder explodes overhead.

  “Exactly the person I was looking for,” a male voice floats up from the dark.

  Marshall appears, causing the wolves to disperse back into the forest. He holds out his hand unleashing a bolt of lightning so fierce it triggers a fire line melting the rope just above my ankle.

  I sail towards the ground and land safe in Marshall’s waiting arms.

  Looks like Chloe was right after all. One of my favorite suitors did save the day.

  “Received an upgrade, did I? I’m glad to know I’m a favorite, Ms. Messenger because I’m taking you home with me.”

  And with that we disappear.

  ***

  The scenery around me unfolds like a mural—large black windows gape at me like soulless bodies, a familiar couch, the glitter of an ornate chandelier. We land in the center of Marshall’s living room where he promptly lands me to my feet and hands over my cell phone still wet with Fem slobber.

  “Tis’ the season for catching souls.” He walks over to the staircase where the prom dress hangs from a wrought iron prong like a superstitious amulet. I’m sure it would make any sorceress fashionista proud to don the haunted frock—except me. I’m neither a sorceress nor a fashionista, and for once, I’d like to invest US dollars and purchase something made from humble human hands that doesn’t hold a single supernatural promise.

  “I’m rather hoping the next dress I bequeath you, is to be worn at our wedding.” Marshall’s eyes are
fueled with lust and wonder, a daring combination that amplifies his sharp gorgeous features.

  “Yes, well, I hope so, too.” Like that will ever happen.

  “It will,” he corrects without realizing. “Though our love linger, wait for it.”

  I break away from his strangulating gaze. The last thing I want to do is piss off Marshall. He, unlike other celestial beings, actually shows up when I need him to.

  “Our wedding will have to be a spectacular event,” I say, taking the dress from him, petting the soft navy velvet.” Gah! I push it back at him. “That’s the stuff lining the walls of the haunted mansion.”

  “Hot off the bolt,” he presses it into me until I take up the hanger once again. “And, in regards to our wedding, the sky is the limit.”

  “You mean the Skyla,” I wink, playing off the words he said to me a while back. “I want to make sure we set all the celestial socialites aflutter.” I play along to satisfy his itch. “I assume all of the Sector upper crust will be in attendance.”

  Marshall scoffs, “You, Love, are marrying into the upper crust. No need to look any higher than yours truly. Proceed to the minute details because I assure you, no request will go ungranted.”

  “Excellent,” I sing. I’ll ply him with such outrages requests that he’ll seriously reconsider this celestial love connection. “Of course there will need to be lots of bling—I’m talking diamond studded toilets, fountains with real cherubs peeing into the pool, that sort of thing.” It takes everything in me not to break out into a fit of laughter. “And, the menu totally has to rock. People will expect a lot from us since we’ll be loaded, as in mountains of currency welcomed worldwide. You might want to get some pyramid scheme in the works, rob a few banks because I plan on being extravagantly high maintenance in my old age.”

  “That’s the glory of unifying yourself with someone of my stature,” he strokes the underbelly of my neck, creating a sharp sizzle. “I can promise you the face you have now until your dying breath as an aged women of a hundred and twenty. You will defy gravity in every way,” his eyes dip. “Your mind will be ripe and sharp from one life to the next.”

  “Great.” I find the way he interchangeably talks about life and death a bit unnerving.

  “And the guests?” Marshall leans in clearly placating me now. “What shall they feast upon?”

  “You can wow the crowd with five fish and two loaves of bread, or we can go the conventional route and let them eat cake.”

  “Spoken like true royalty.” His cheek slides into a half-smile.

  “Actually,” I stride past him, heading towards the kitchen. All this talk about food is only heightening the fact my stomach is growling like a prehistoric land mammal. “We should have a memorable menu, you know—whale sushi, barbequed zebra, tiger,” I pause taking him in, the look of amusement mingling with seduction radiates from his being. Clearly he’s taken with this nuptial sized banter. “None of that Bengal shit either. I’m talking white exotic.”

  Marshall explodes with a laugh. “So what you’d really like are protestors littering the compound. I’ll up your facetious requests and make sure to have a live animal sacrifice right after the ceremony. A dolphin, perhaps?”

  “You’re disgusting.” I swat him in the stomach.

  “I’m simply following the leader.” He opens the oven and pulls out two plates brimming with fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, biscuits and coleslaw. I promptly travel behind him as we make our way to the table.

  “Mmm, the Colonel’s finest offerings.” I take in the popcorn-esque aroma. “I approve.”

  “I thought you might.”

  The table is set with tall amber goblets, the exact shade of Logan’s eyes, stiff cloth napkins with a twisted coil of metal gathering them in the center like the waist of a shapely woman, a fork and knife protruding from the top. I assume the flatware is a part of Marshall’s enchanted cutlery collection. I pull my fork free to observe whose effigy I might be dining with.

  Logan.

  “I like this one.” I wave it in front of him. The light glints off the silver as if Logan himself were fighting for my attention.

  “Do you?” He adjusts his napkin over his lap before darting his crimson colored eyes into mine. “Do you desire him enough to follow him into death?”

  “I can’t die—I mean I won’t.”

  “My dear,” he leans in fracturing the peace with a look of repugnance, “if you haven’t learned by now that anything is possible—perhaps you never will.”

  Chapter 80

  Dress You Up in My Love

  The Saturday morning of prom stretches out slow and lethargic like some ethereal dream in a quiet parade of glittering fog. I inspect the area outside my bedroom window for signs of Nevermore, but nary a shadow exists in our world on this fine morn. I press my hand to the glass, and a gentle aura of perspiration warms around it.

  This is the day of possibilities, both fatal and life giving. Nothing like the thrill of ridding the world of Holden Kragger on prom night.

  I glance back at the tiny velvet wonder Marshall has generously supplied me with. I have his assurance that as soon as the zipper hits the top I’ll be sporting Logan’s soul like a pair of painted on jeans. Just the thought of his skin over mine sounds disturbingly beautiful. I pet the soft velvet, run my fingers over the upholstery tacks that line the ridge before heading downstairs for breakfast.

  A mountain of duffle bags line the entry. A long vinyl sack with duck tape adhered across the top marked tent spills into the hall.

  If Mom and Tad are planning some ambush household retreat right smack in the middle of prom, they can forget it. Aside from executing Holden, I very much plan on spending a romantic evening with Gage. A hotel room may or may not be involved.

  I head into the family room and open my mouth to say good morning, but a quick high-pitched scream sails out from my vocal cords instead.

  “What’s that?” I shriek.

  The mirror of terror has floated down from the attic and managed to plant itself successfully in the living room, complete with a thick red ribbon crossing over it like a pageant contestant.

  “What the heck are you screaming bloody murder for?” Mom rushes out from the kitchen.

  Chloe comes up, clad in her see-thru shirt and a pair of men’s boxers. “Looks like you’ve had a glimpse of what the rest of us have to put up with when we look at you.”

  I don’t know what’s scarier, Chloe taking up residence, or the mirror of horrors mysteriously showing up in the living room.

  “Isn’t it to die for?” Mom wrinkles her nose inspecting the thick ornate frame. “Tad gave it to me as a wedding gift.”

  “A wedding what?” I gasp as he pops up behind me in the reflection.

  “That’s right. I’ve been hunting everywhere for that perfect treasure,” he pats his hair down before stepping out of view.

  “And where did you find this amazing work of art?” I already know the truth.

  “Let’s just call it one of those lucky attic finds. Fixed the leaky roof above the entry, too.”

  Just great. Now we’ll never be rid of it.

  “So where will you keep it?” Chloe is quick to nail down the new locale of her jaunt to Gage’s arms. I’m sure she’ll be sweeping in and out of it, racking up some serious frequent flyer miles to the land where she can rut with Gage freely.

  “I was thinking right here or out in the front hall.” Tad returns, clutching his coffee.

  “I was thinking, next to my dresser.” Mom taps a finger beside her cheek. “I don’t have a single decent full-length mirror, and I’d love to have this up in the room. Besides, it has special meaning,” Mom reaches up and strokes Tad’s neck.

  I suppose it’s the right place to sequester it since that will severely limit Chloe’s ability to storm in there whenever the hell she feels like it.

  “So when will you be coming back from your trip?” Chloe doesn’t let up with her selfish inquisiti
on. I bet she has a half a dozen fantasies lined up in the queue.

  “Monday,” Mom beams. “We’re camping near the falls,” she nods into me. “Second honeymoon,” she mouths.

  “Sounds fantastic.” Chloe drips a malevolent smile.

  Chloe will be molesting Gage by midnight. There’s a good chance she’s already had more action with my boyfriend than I have from her last hallucinatory sprint. Shit, shit, shit.

  “This isn’t fair,” I say just under my breath.

  “What’s not fair?” Mom wraps her arm around me with curiosity.

  “Oh, um…” Great. “You won’t get to see me in my prom dress. You know—take pictures.”

  “Oh, but I will! I have a meeting with a client this evening. Tad and I won’t be heading out to the falls until later. You’re leaving at five, right? I’ll be around to take plenty of pictures. Although I’m still not pleased that you and Gage are in the business of doling out mercy dates.” She gives a harsh look of disapproval.

  “I’m glad you’ll be here.” I’m not too thrilled with the mercy dates she’s been doling out either. “What kind of meeting are you having on a Saturday night?” I can probably guess who’ll be in attendance.

  She shakes her head slightly, darting her eyes over to Tad.

  I make my way to the calendar hanging over by the kitchen window, run my finger down the short list of Saturday’s until I hit this one. New Moon.

  I turn back around to find both Mom and Chloe admiring the mirror.

  Yes. I know exactly where my mother will be tonight.

  ***

  Since Gage and I are faking this acrimonious leg of our relationship, he’s opted out of the limo ride, as arranged per Holden, and has already picked Brielle up in his truck.

  I’ve hidden the contraption Dr. O developed to zap Holden out of existence, into a small sequined purse Mom bought me the Christmas I was twelve. It was sort of out of place in my life back then, but now it’s found its true purpose as a covert killing machine.