Expel

by Addison Moore

  I pluck the navy dress off the hanger, gaze into it as if it were Logan himself. The depth and richness of the texture and hue hypnotize me into wanting to stare at it all night long. It holds the grandeur of the night sky, the rivets reflect like stars. It will barely cover my top and hardly reach my bottom, but I deeply appreciate the fact Logan will swim around my torso—touching me so brazenly—so intimately all night long.

  But, it’s not fair to Gage, and, for sure I don’t think I’ll be reminding him that his cousin slash uncle is straddled securely over my hips. It’s bad enough I’m technically going to prom with Logan, the last thing I need to do is rub his face in the fact Logan gets to fondle me freely for the next seven or eight hours.

  I slip into the velvet dress. The cool of the ironwork singes my skin as it shimmies over my curves.

  “Here goes nothing,” I whisper.

  I reach back and take the zipper up as far as my fingers will allow, missing the top by at least four inches.

  Perfect.

  I head into the hall and call for Mia. Melissa emerges from their bedroom instead, and I point over my shoulder.

  “Can you?”

  “Sure.” She lays her ice-cold hand over my arm and secures the zipper. “So how late do you think you’ll be out?” She’s so stupid. I’ll probably have to reword the question three times before she gets it right.

  I turn around to gape at her but she drives up the zipper so hard it makes me jump.

  A warm tingling feeling wraps itself around my waist. It shimmers through the dress from the top to the bottom in a continuous spiral of warm affection. “Logan. He’s here,” I whisper.

  “He’s been downstairs for like half an hour.” She averts her eyes. “So, again, how late will you be out?”

  “Oh, right. Midnight?” Probably more like a half past never, or quarter till afternoon, but I’ll never fess up to that one.

  She crimps a tiny smile.

  “You’re having a party, aren’t you?” Figures. Evidently you can’t turn your back on the tween scene for one hormonal second.

  “Just a few friends. We’re watching a movie, and don’t worry—it’s not the one you starred in. Oh, and thanks for the nickname—Loose Landon—in the event your little sis forgot to mention all the love we’ve been fielding from our growing list of frenemies. And, don’t worry, no one will be allowed in your precious little room.”

  Somehow I find this doubtful. And, technically, I’m not a Landon. Besides, they probably acquired that nickname all on their own trying to outdo one another in the boyfriend tug of war.

  “OK,” I shrug. “Look,” I soften into her still absorbing the warm comfortable feeling of having Logan seeped around the circumference of my body. “I don’t know what exactly is going on between you and Mia, but it’s my suggestion that you both dump that loser Armistead kid and each get yourself a good guy of your own. If anyone is calling you Loose Landon, it’s because you’re both putting out—to the same freaking guy.” That breeds disgust in acres.

  She takes in a sharp breath. “I knew it!” She staggers. “She is seeing him behind my back!”

  “No!” I clap my hand over my mouth in horror, but it’s too late she’s already locked herself in the bathroom. “Melissa, wait!” I pound on the door.

  “I’m never coming out!” She screams.

  The loud shrill whoop of a siren explodes from downstairs. I snap my purse off the dresser and head down.

  “It’s you and me Logan,” I whisper holding myself at the waist as I descend the stairs.

  A warm burst cycles through the dress.

  I hear the words I love you echo through every fiber of my being.

  Chapter 81

  Promenade

  “What the hell happened?” I scream.

  Everyone is gathered outside the gaping mouth of a waiting ambulance, pulled up high on the driveway. Its red pulsating beams send a seizure of light hacking through the ever-darkening sky.

  “Look at you!” Mom shouts with surprise. “Oh, Hon, you look fantastic! I don’t remember that dress.”

  “I sort of accidentally stumbled upon it. Its vintage.” More so than she or I will ever know. “What’s with the show and tell?” I ask, pointing at the monument to medicine flaring for attention. No one appears to be injured—yet.

  “That’s your date’s chosen mode of transportation.” Tad nods acceptingly.

  “What?” I collide into Holden.

  I take a breath and forget to exhale. Holden—Logan is gorgeous beyond belief, sublime in every way. I open my mouth to say something, and there are simply no words.

  “Tonight’s your lucky night.” He holds his arms out and slips a greasy grin in my direction. “How you arrive to prom defines you,” he thrusts his hands at the waiting ambulance as if he miraculously made it appear.

  “How does this define us? By saying we’re sick and feeble?”

  “It says we’re better than everybody else,” Holden drops his chin. “We’re special—different. When we show up at the party, people are going to hear about it. They’re going to come out in droves just to see what the hell is going on.”

  “Oh, they’re going to wonder what in the hell is going on alright,” with you, I want to add but don’t.

  Going to prom in an ambulance is perhaps the biggest irony of all because, most likely, Holden will be leaving in one.

  I give him a dirty look before panning the crowd. Mom and Tad, Drake, Emily, Chloe and Ethan. I take in Chloe and Emily, both adorned in a different version of a red glittering dress that makes my short accouterment look like proper attire for afternoon tea.

  “Stand together so I can take pictures!” Mom bursts. She smacks Tad in the chest until he produces a camera, and she happily snaps away. “So we’ll be back Monday morning. No monkey business.” She glances down at her watch. God forbid she miss out on her own version of monkey business. I’m sure Demetri would be happy to morph into a chimp if she wanted. Oddly, he seems more than willing to oblige my mother’s slightest whim.

  “This is effing insane!” Drake hops inside and starts slapping down switches and knobs alike. I feel sorry for the poor suffering soul who actually requires its services once he’s through damaging the equipment.

  “I think he’s effing insane,” I whisper to Mom. “He should be going with Bree.”

  “I think you’re insane for not going with Gage,” she’s quick to fire back. “I don’t get your relationship—one minute you’re engaged and the next you’re going to prom with your ex-boyfriend. It’s not right.”

  “You know what else isn’t right?” I whisper. “The fact I know you’re going to pull a quickie with Demetri before taking off on your second honeymoon with your so-called husband.”

  Her back straightens involuntarily. Everything in her freezes.

  OK, perhaps waiting in line to file into an ambulance on prom night isn’t the appropriate time to bring up my mother’s infidelity but she started this war. And, it just so happens that my tongue is the most committed soldier in my self-defense army. Speaking of war, I pat my thigh just above my dress where I have a garter belt that rivals the abilities of duct tape. I tucked away the last disc Marshall gave me should the faction war decide to break out while I’m busy exterminating Holden. I feel very Russian spy at the moment, and apparently that makes me believe I can take on my mother and her roving marital eye.

  I trot over to Mia while Tad helps Chloe into the garishly lit hospital wagon.

  “I may have accidentally mentioned that you were seeing that Armistead kid,” I whisper.

  “To Melissa?” Her face contorts in horror.

  “It was an accident,” I duck an inch.

  “You are such a bitch, Skyla! I hate you!” She stomps off towards the house in a fury.

  “What was that about?” Mom comes at me, snapping off a few more group shots in the process.

  “She’s sort of seeing Melissa’s boyfriend.”

  “Melis
sa doesn’t have a boyfriend.” Tad steps in from behind.

  Mom grabs a hold of my wrist and gently pulls me in. “When I get back, we’ll talk,” she nods into her whisper.

  I know full well it’s in regards to Demetri.

  “Right.” I step over to Holden’s waiting hand. “I’d better get going. You two kids have a great time sleeping under the stars.” I would add, look out for rabid wolves, but I’m not that lucky.

  I hop into the stainless interior of the medicinal looking transport. There are probably a million different microorganisms crawling all over us right now. I’m betting Holden doesn’t put too much weight on things like hygiene and super bacteria that can crawl into your nostril and eat your brain, especially given the fact I’ve readily supplied him with a new body each time he’s needed one.

  The truck starts down the road with an aggressive wobble.

  “Skyla and I got a room at the Sunrise Motel,” Holden is quick to proclaim.

  “The Sunrise Motel?” I gape. “Isn’t that a never-ending convention center for cockroaches? Where they proliferate freely while planning a hostile takeover of our people and government?”

  “Nothing but the best for my angel,” he scowls into me as though I were an ungrateful bitch.

  “You know,” Chloe starts in with a devious smile. Her lips painted a bright arrogant shade of crimson that bounces off her face like a warning. “I always thought you two were better suited for each other.” She gleams with delight, digging her steely gaze from me to Holden. “You both lie, you both cheat, and you would kill your own mothers to get what you really wanted.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Chloe.” I glance out the tiny back window. “I would never kill my mother.” Before the sentence can sail from my lips, I see my mother’s car take a turn toward the estates. She is going to see Demetri. I freaking knew it.

  My heart starts to race at the prospect of what exactly they might be doing to together.

  A vision of Demetri taking off my mother’s dress sears through my mind. She shakes her hair out with laughter.

  Dear God.

  I am going to kill my mother.

  ***

  The siren on top of this rescue transport saws and wails all the way over to the Paragon Palms Luxury Resort that backs into the white sandy beaches on the south end of the island. This is a way nicer venue than the one we had for winter formal.

  It’s killing me that Gage and I have to pretend we can’t stand one another, at least the first part of the night. Once I kill Holden and land Logan back in his body, we can resume our love fest right there at prom if we wanted. And, of course, the Sunrise Motel will have an empty roach-filled room waiting on Logan’s dime, but I might concede the offer. I’m sure whatever hotel room I end up in with Gage one day, won’t have a crime scene cutout of its last patron emblazoned on the carpet.

  A crowd amasses outside the long awning of the resort, nothing but startled faces for miles as we scream our way to the entrance. I spot Ellis loosely holding some girl from East. Ellis has the slight look of alarm on his face, as he should because he’s normal, unlike Holden, whose idea of a good time consists of medical supplies and heart stopping sirens. But, lucky for me, there won’t be a single medic around to help when I stop Holden’s heart tonight.

  The EMT on escort duty opens the twin doors and lets in the cool of the evening. Emily and Chloe bolt out so fast you’d think they came to their senses and realized who they were with, but in contrast to that lucid thought they wait acrimoniously outside the blinking vehicle for their respective dates, mortified as they should be.

  “Shit,” I hiss for no good reason as Holden yanks me down to the asphalt.

  “I gotta piss like a racehorse,” he hitches his thumb towards the facility. “I’ll catch you inside.”

  “Sure,” I tug down my dress. Glad to know Logan’s bladder is still functioning, although his liver might be another issue—Holden reeks of booze.

  Brielle gives a wild wave in my direction, and I head on over.

  “Where’s your date?” I pan the vicinity for the sharpest man around and find no one that even comes close to the perfection that is Gage.

  “Said he needed to talk to Logan,” she dips into me. “I totally know what’s going on.”

  “You do?” I’m stunned Gage would trust Brielle with our delicate state of felonious affairs, especially since said state of affairs could involve manslaughter charges if I don’t execute them properly—execute him to be exact.

  “Totally, I mean why else would you fake being with Logan? He’s been nothing but a turd the last few months. It’s because you really care about me.” She wraps her arm around my waist, and her stomach extends like a mixing bowl.

  I take in the cinnamon scent of her hairspray, her arms and neck glitter under the lights from the awning.

  “You’ve totally figured us out.” I still don’t know if I can trust Brielle one hundred percent, but for sure I’ll never forget that after Chloe aired that sleezy DVD, it was Brielle who peeled me off the ground in the middle of a downpour.

  I tighten my embrace.

  I’ll always love her for that.

  We start making our way towards the entry, arm and arm. From the corner of my eye I see something white vanish into the woods across the street, subtle as lightning. It backtracks, stares me right in the face with its blood-soaked smile.

  My heart seizes.

  I pull Brielle quickly into the resort.

  Looks like Holden and my mother aren’t the only ones I might have to kill tonight.

  Chapter 82

  Promtastic

  The Madison Lights Ballroom dwarfs any other grand location we’ve managed to assemble in style. A plethora of twinkle lights wrap around nearly a dozen miniature trees lining the periphery of the room. A blue glow tints the ceiling, illuminates from the stage just beyond the dance floor. West and East are present, although it’s a smaller student body count considering it’s the junior, senior prom, and by the end of this evening, I’m hoping to subtract one more from the guest list.

  Gage nods into me from across the room. His dark hair is slicked back, his dimples pressed in, offering their secret smile. I set my shoulders back—straighten as I drink him in. He looks magnificent, an aristocrat, a man of nobility. I keep inhaling until my lungs hurt from the effort. His eyes laser into mine a cool glacial blue that relaxes me under their watchful supervision. I feel safe just knowing Gage is in the vicinity, that my voice could carry through the crowd and touch him even if I’m unable.

  A glittering parade of hostile sequins quickly covers his person. Chloe shags out her dark hair and laughs as she attempts to strike up a conversation with him. She looks horrid in that band-aid of an outfit, like a siren from hell—hound to be precise.

  “You are a stunning creature, Ms. Messenger,” Marshall stands tall beside me, resplendent and majestic.

  “Thank you—and you clean up nicely yourself.” I try to sound casual. Truthfully, if someone were to lay eyes on him for the first time tonight, they’d risk having the breath knocked out of them.

  “These mediocre humans,” he continues, “will one day realize the flagrant error of refusing to appreciate your eminence,” he purrs. “They would bow to your royalty if they knew the presence they were in.”

  “It’s doubtful anyone will ever bow to me. Maybe if I drop a dollar to my feet.”

  The bitch squad, sans its fearless leader, ogles me from a short distance.

  “Miller at three o’clock,” I whisper. “You could get very lucky tonight. She’s lucid and dangerous. I’d like to volunteer her services once again for Fem training—Fem training in nocturne,” I hold back a laugh. “Sounds downright poetic.”

  “You should never have coerced her into removing the necklace in the first place. How soon you had forgotten her wicked ways. Your forgiving nature is a magnificent flaw.”

  “Too forgiving? Isn’t that the basic premise of the people fro
m which you spawn?”

  “Correction—created. No spawning or involuntary indwelling involved whatsoever. As for acquitting trespasses, what you suggest is true. However, your nature to forgive has resulted in your enemies flawed precept that you condone their aggressive behavior. It could prove deadly. I’m not sure you see this.”

  “You know what I can see? One of those freaky mirrors you gifted Demetri is now a permanent fixture in the Landon residence.”

  “Impossible.” He nods at a group of girls who strut by admiring him, sending all sorts of lewd invites with the lowering of their eyelids.

  “No really, I convinced Demetri to give it to me after Chloe tried to buy it at the garbage sale. It’s in my mother’s bedroom as we speak.”

  He gives a clear look of concern before pushing in close.

  “Skyla, it’s impossible for Demetri to have gifted you the mirror. Once the mirror is gifted, it can no longer transfer ownership under any circumstance.”

  “There’s still another one back at his estate.”

  “There’s just one Realm of Possibilities in existence.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t give him two? It was probably centuries ago and you forgot. There can’t be just one.”

  “One, and one alone.”

  “The one he gave me had a Fem inside. I saw it—scared the living crap out of me. You think the mirror in my mother’s bedroom is capable of the same kind of trickery as the one you gave him?”

  “I can assure you, whatever mirror he dispensed cannot replicate the beauty and wonder of living in the fool’s paradise I had reserved for him. Do not under any circumstance go near that thing. I’ll be by in the morning to pick it up. I’ll have to find solid reasoning before removing it from the premises.” Marshall creases his forehead with irritation. Color rises to his cheeks, amplifies his anger. Very few things move him to the point of excitability, let alone anger.

  “My parents are camping.” I catch a breath at the thought of referring to both Mom and Tad collectively as my parents but I let it slide since the music just hiked up ten decibels and brevity was necessary.