Toxic Part Two

by Addison Moore

“There’s nothing wrong with Ethan.” Chloe shakes her head.

  “Other than the fact he’s not Gage.” I’m quick to remind.

  “Neither is Logan or Dudley, or whoever else you’ll be using as your consolation prize.” Chloe skewers me with a look of insolent pride as if she’s in the know on some big secret that’s yet to play out in my future.

  “And who will be with Gage?” Emerson asks, amused by our banter.

  “I will.” Chloe gleams over at me. “I’ll have him, and he’ll worship me.”

  I don’t know what frightens me more, the fact she had the nerve to say it in my room, on my bed, or the fact every cell in her body believes it.

  “Let’s play a game, Chloe.” Emerson teases with a husky tone.

  “No,” Chloe snaps. The look of tempered fear in her eyes is enough to confirm the fact Emerson has Chloe by the balls.

  “Let’s play a game of hangman,” Emerson says it slow, vindictive, as though the secret she’s wielding like a sword was buried in her words.

  “Did Chloe hang someone?” I’m fascinated. “I totally wouldn’t put it past her. I bet she’s tried every modality possible to force someone to give up the ghost.”

  Emerson looks up at me with her clear blue eyes and scoffs. “You don’t know the beast you’re entertaining.”

  “Oh, I so do,” I’m quick to retort. “It doesn’t get more beastly than having my father killed.”

  Emerson stabs Chloe with her dagger-like eyes and the temperature in the room plummets to a primitive chill. Chloe is posturing through her anxiety, but I can see the map of fear written all over her as she twitches unnaturally over my mattress.

  “What’s going on?” I feel like shaking Emerson until the secrets spill out of her ears. “What did she do?”

  “She’s still doing it, Skyla. Can’t you see?” Emerson needles her with a relentless brand of hatred I thought only I was capable of exuding when it came to Chloe. “She’s a criminal. She’s too ashamed to admit all of her indiscretions.” She spears her revulsion in Chloe’s direction. “I can make you dance. You’re my own personal marionette doll. Dance bitch.” Emerson doesn’t crack a smile, just glowers into Chloe like she’s the devil herself. “It’s going to be one hell of a year at West.”

  Chloe flinches.

  “Oh, wait, I didn’t tell you?” Emerson widens her eyes with delight. “I had my dad transfer me. I’d hate to stay at East and be the freak on campus. At West, I’ve already got a built-in bestie. Isn’t that right, Chloe? It’s going to be you and me again. Just like old times.”

  Chloe’s face turns an ashen shade of grey. She jumps to her feet and makes a beeline out the door without the polite forethought to say good night.

  I swoop in on Emerson.

  “Tell me everything you know or I’ll sink you in blue Jell-O by midnight so help me God.”

  “Shit.” She blinks back a moment. “Do you even fucking understand there is no second resurrection? It’s one and done, so don’t go threatening me.” She stabs a finger in my chest. “I don’t respond well to threats in the event you haven’t noticed.”

  Perfect. Now she’ll have both Chloe and me as her afterschool bitches.

  I take a deep breath.

  “Look, it’s really important for you and me to be on the same team. I hate Chloe as much as you do. I really need to know what you have on her. It must be something huge to make her run for the door like that.”

  “It is,” she assures. Emerson dives on the bed and the canopy shakes as if it were an earthquake. “Whatever. I’ll tell you in the morning. I’m fried.”

  “You will?”

  “Yeah, but you need to keep quiet about it. And trust me, if word gets out, I’ll know it was you.”

  “Why would I say anything?”

  “It’d be impossible not to.”

  ***

  I tire of playing riddle of the Sphinx with Emerson. The riddle of the Sphinx was easier to solve—the answer was man. In Chloe’s case, the answer is beast, but what else could she possibly have done to earn that title?

  I crawl into the butterfly room and find Gage sprawled out, sleeping with his arm up over his head. He looks unblemished like a marble carving. His thick lashes curl up perfectly. Any woman in her right mind would die for them, for him in general.

  Here it is, the last leg of our journey, according to Logan. Once the faction war ends, we’ll land on another battlefield, the terrain in the shape of a heart.

  I lie down beside him and watch his chest rise and fall. He’s so sweet and gorgeous I want him to be mine. I ache all over for Gage.

  He groans and rouses. His lids slit open revealing bright pink tracks layered over the whites of his eyes.

  “Hey, beautiful.” He places his hand on my hip like he’s done it a thousand times before. “Everything go OK?”

  I nod. The last thing I’m going to do is drag Chloe and her whirlwind of secrets up here like some smelly dead carcass, and I do believe a carcass is involved.

  “Guess what?” I whisper.

  “What?”

  It’s easy like this with Gage. Like I had made a wrong turn and was lost and now I’m found, safe right here next to him.

  “I love you, Gage Oliver.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Are you hiding anything?” I ask point-blank.

  Gage gives a reluctant, slow nod. The cords on either side of his neck distend as he reaches over and pets the side of my cheek.

  “Will you tell me?”

  He hesitates. The look on his face answers before he does. “I don’t think so.”

  My heart implodes on itself at the thought. I hate the fact Emerson is proving to be some reanimated prognosticator with twenty-twenty vision into my future.

  “I can’t.” He shakes his head. “It has to do with my dreams. I don’t have all the details. I don’t even know if I believe them anymore.” He sighs with frustration. “Trust me, Skyla—sometimes it’s best to let the future play out.”

  “I do trust you Gage. And I’m pretty sure whatever it is you’re withholding has to do with you, me, Logan or Chloe.”

  His dimples press in, no smile. “It’s always the same things, isn’t it?”

  “So I hit the nail on the head?”

  “All four.” He drops a throbbing kiss on my temple. “I promise you one thing.”

  “What’s that?” I slip my hands up his shirt and warm my arms over his back.

  “You will never go unloved.”

  Sometimes that’s enough to hear.

  ***

  The night wears on. I can feel his warm breath shower over me while the butterflies watch peacefully from above.

  A dream emerges as Gage holds me in his loving arms.

  A hillside explodes from nothing as I enter Logan’s dream world. A rich lavender sky opens clear and smooth, layered with a spectacle of stars that glitter like fireflies. The clean scent of honey and lemons spice the air as a cacophony of explosive grunts, and berated spasms of ecstasy, rocket from a nearby thicket.

  I find Logan lying on the grass, reclining on his elbows.

  “Oh. My. God.” I run over the rich lawn so dark in hue it looks necrotic. “Have they no shame? At least we can’t see them,” I say, landing next to him.

  I glance up and a tangle of pale flesh slaps me in the face, long hairy legs over svelte porcelain limbs, a perfectly bleached moon rises and I turn my face in a hurry. “Oh God.” I scoot into Logan for protection.

  He leans back, plays with my hair an inordinate amount of time before saying anything.

  “How did it go?” He looks down, inspecting my features as though he never intended for me to answer. He could read the truth for himself written all over my face.

  “It went.” A sigh escapes my lips. “I do trust Gage. I know things are complicated right now.” I pause as Ezrina lets out a hearty groan. “He knows things, Logan. Things about you and me and Chloe.”

  “Did he say wha
t?”

  “No—nor will he. Not sure I want him to anyway.”

  “I might want him to.”

  “Why? It’s not like we can change any of it.”

  Nev’s staccato grunts go off like the blast of a shotgun.

  “Maybe not.” Logan scoots down until he’s in line with me. “But if Gage knows, I need to know. That’s what a team is about, working together on a play.”

  “Are you and Gage on the same team?”

  “We’re team Skyla.” He nudges his shoulder into mine.

  I lay my hand over his chest and gaze out at the stars. The vocalization has quieted—nothing but the sound of erratic breathing, a hymn of hallelujah stemming from each breath.

  “Team Skyla.” I shake my head.

  More like team Oliver.

  I’m going to be an Oliver someday.

  I just can’t figure out which Oliver.

  Chapter 102

  Headache

  In the morning, Gage swarms me with a sea of kisses before blipping himself out of the butterfly room.

  I must say, having a boyfriend with the ability to teleport himself anywhere is more than a little perk. Think of all the frequent flier miles we’ll log by way of his well-chiseled body?

  My thoughts revert to Logan and my mood plummets.

  I sink down through the hole in my closet and land with a soft thud. Today is a perfect day to bring Mia over to see Dad. I can’t even imagine the broken heart she must have over that whole “steal your boyfriend from under you” debacle, especially since the boyfriend snatcher in question sleeps less than six feet away.

  I head into the bedroom and check myself in the mirror. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mia took the working end of an ax to Melissa in her sleep—

  A dark brown stain over my pillow captures my attention.

  I turn slowly toward the bed.

  I don’t have a brown pillow, do I? I step in closer. It looks tie-dye, or like Emerson spilt pomegranate juice all over it. Gross. She probably puked. It’s probably some disgusting aftereffect of Ezrina’s keeping solution and now her digestive tract is malfunctioning. She’ll be burping up bile and blood for the next twenty years—and she thought Chloe’s presence was vexing.

  I sweep in and pull back the covers to assess the total bodily fluid damage.

  “Holy freaking shit!”

  Nev’s wings expand on the other side of the glass in response to my panic.

  “God!”

  Emerson Kragger’s headless body lies in state while a puddle of rusty liquid spreads over the mattress thick as an oil slick.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” I let Nev in the window and he sails past me in a heated flurry.

  “What the hell am I going to do?” I shout into him. God, what if my entire family has been decapitated? What if some maniac has already spiked their heads on that crappy picket fence Tad keeps threatening to fix?

  “Skyla?” My mother bursts into the room uninvited.

  “I’m changing!” I shriek, pushing her out and slamming the dresser over the door in one bionic move.

  There’s that theory.

  I distinctly smell a Bishop involved in this massacre. She just took proving a point to a whole new level. Chloe Bishop will be nobody’s bitch with the exception of Gage if he commands it.

  “Is everything OK?” Mom’s muted voice pulses through the walls, heavy with concern.

  “Everything’s fine! I’m just practicing for a play.” Lies spew from my lips like some autonomic response.

  “Are you doing summer stock?” Mom sounds proud of my new false endeavor.

  “Yup.” It’s called, I’m going to bury an ax murderer. “I’ll be down later.” I shout, moving my entire desk to block the dresser, which blocks the orifice to the potential serial killer implications of it all.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God.” I hiss looking back at the disfigured corpse. Nev lands on my shoulder, and I reach up and hold him. “What am I going to do?”

  Looks like someone’s done half the work for you. Dispose of the rest—and do so quickly. The odor is making my eyes water.

  “Dispose? With what? A meat grinder? This is Emerson freaking Kragger. Her dad is going to kill me when she doesn’t show up for blackmailing duty. I’m done. I may as well be the one lying in that bed. Freaking Chloe.

  Are you suggesting Ms. Bishop is responsible for the carnage?

  “Yes! And this shocks you because?” I pop a quick text to Gage begging him to bolt back here ASAP.

  Good Lord. Nev lets out a shrill cry. If I had a halfpenny for each time she threatened to lop my head off. And here I thought she was being cute.

  Gage materializes before me with a lustful look in his eye, still wet from the shower, and I spin him around.

  “Crap!” He jumps back.

  “Shh!” I hop from one leg to the other in a panic.

  “Let’s get her to Dudley’s.” He speeds over and plucks the bottom sheet off the four corners of the mattress and pulls the edges together like she’s a load of headless laundry.

  Brill! Why didn’t I think of that?

  I huddle in and Gage blinks us away from the scene of the crime.

  ***

  “Skyla!” My father rises with a blooming grin on his face as we land in the middle of Marshall’s living room. “And you’ve brought Gage.”

  “That’s just as well.” My mother rises and matches my dad’s enthusiasm.

  “Marshall?” I jet over to him as he strides into the room with a tray of steaming teacups and rattle him by the shoulders as a spray of hot liquid drips over my legs.

  “Not now, love.” He places the tray on the sofa table. “We’ve guest.” Do reprise your enthusiasm later this evening. My bed has longed for your touch since the moment you left. And what’s with Jock Strap glaring at me?

  I drag him over to the bedding lying on the floor and pull back the sheet.

  A huge gasp fills the room as they take in a collected breath.

  “What happened?” Dad cries out in alarm.

  Good God, he probably thinks I’m bringing Mia to him, or Mom.

  “It’s Emerson Kragger,” I pant. “Chloe Bishop happened.”

  The room stills as we gape at Emerson’s long frame, her hands spread wide with surprise.

  “Pity,” Marshall muses with a false sense of charity. “Would you like to bury or burn her?”

  “What?” I shriek.

  Nev flies in a circle around the lot of us.

  “Put her back together.” I plead to both Marshall and my mother.

  “Sorcery.” Marshall makes big eyes at me as if he never messed with Michelle’s unfortunate state to begin with.

  “You’ve lost her head.” Mom leans in and examines the hole in her neck. She digs her finger in and her expression sours.

  “I never had her head.” I suck in a sharp breath. “Chloe buried it in the past! I saw her about a month ago trotting off in the woods behind the house. Why the hell would she do that?”

  “No fresh earth to tip anybody off.” Gage nods because he knows all about burying and unburying the dead. Although right about now, I need him to know all about cranial search and rescue.

  “Skyla, what will you tell her family?” My father looks up at me, concerned about my perilous state of contention and quite possibly manslaughter charges once Chloe pins this whole knifing debacle on me.

  “Nothing.” I flail my hands. “Let’s get her to the table.” I reach down and start dragging the carcass. “Marshall, find her head.” I bark out the instructions, only he doesn’t move.

  “Skyla,” my mother scoffs. I so hate the scoffing when she’s wearing a close replica of my face. “What do you intend to do once you find her head?”

  “Put it back.” I pull out the words. God, do I have to spell out everything? We have a reanimation to get to and everyone’s just standing around all pissy like it’s my fault they’re not doing better things like noshing on Marshall’s vermin-based culinar
y treats. “I’ll have Marshall pump her full of my Celestra blood and she’ll be back to normal by dinner. A little help from you wouldn’t hurt, either.” I slide Emerson across the carpet leaving an indelible stain that I can already tell will be a bitch to get rid of much like the perpetrator of this offense, i.e. Chloe-I-chop-heads-off-before-breakfast Bishop.

  “Skyla.” Mom closes her luminescent eyes. “It was Emerson’s time. She’s unable to come back. I’m so sorry dear.”

  “Her time?” A hopeless ache rattles deep in my bones. “No,” I cry. “That means I’ll lose my treble. Arson Kragger will never forgive me for teasing him with his daughter. The tunnels won’t be able to protect me from his wrath.” I look to my father and drop to my knees. “Daddy? Help, me. I beg of you.”

  Gage pulls me up to the couch and presses a kiss square on my lips.

  “She just needs another soul.” He soothes me with his calm spirit. Gage always knows the right words to say.

  “Perfect!” I bounce up and bolt to my mother. “Ezrina! She’s dying for another body.”

  “No can do.” Her eyes narrow in on mine. “Emerson’s time has passed and Ezrina needs to remain. Besides, it wouldn’t be right to inflict that kind of punishment on a soul who’s done nothing wrong. Her hair sparkles as if each strand were fiber-optic.

  There it is.

  Emerson is dead and Chloe prospers once again.

  “Marshall?” I look to him pleading.

  “I’m sorry, love. This is beyond my realm. I’ve not a soul to offer.”

  “I might,” Gage says it low with a morbid growl.

  “Oh no.” I hold up a hand at his insane offer. I’m not sacrificing a perfectly good Gage for Emerson Kragger’s next reprisal. “Maybe we can kill Chloe?”

  Gage shakes his head. “You said never kill Chloe. You made me promise we wouldn’t hurt her.”

  “Statements like that make me wonder where your loyalty lies. I always want Chloe dead. It’s the only constant in my life.”

  “I have another solution.” His dimples invert with a twinge of regret over what he’s about to suggest.

  “Nev?” I ask. Of course that might ruin things spectacularly for Ezrina.