Wicked

by Addison Moore

  I wonder how many man-hours it will take before we get it right.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The Muse

  Monday, I manage to avoid Chloe for the better part of the afternoon as I bask in the false impression of a reprieve, but come sixth period I can tell by the haughty look in her eyes she’s still hell-bent on controlling my life. Who knew that words I once whispered to her about Marshall would give her such jurisdiction, allow her to dismantle my relationship with Gage—turn me over to the Counts on a whim if she wanted.

  “OK, team,” she shouts into the wind. “We have the all state competition coming up in April, and we need to bring it home. How did you do last year?” She holds her hand to her ear.

  A low mumble of we lost, groans from among us.

  “And why did you lose?” She looks genuinely pissed as she aggregates us with an eternal hatred. “Because there was no leadership,” she barks it out while pegging Michelle with her venom.

  Technically I wasn’t here either, but I don’t offer up that information.

  “So,” she continues, “with the help of Ms. Richards, we are going to catapult this team to the number one slot, you got it?”

  We give a dismal yes in unison. Michelle is so out of it, plucking away at grass blades, to even care if we’re all in uniform let alone if there’s some altruistic level of unity. Really someone should do an intervention.

  I tune out Chloe’s barking and look over at Ms. Richards sitting on a bench in the distance, referring to her clipboard now and again. I still can’t believe she’s related to Ezrina. Creepy. Now that I know, I can see traces of her great, great grandmother in her. Same wild shag of copper hair, eyes too large for her face—there’s always been something unnerving about her perennial high-strung behavior, always restless and jittery, just like her predecessor.

  Chloe covers me with her shadow.

  “Well, Messenger?” She hollers with her hands wrapped around her mouth like a megaphone.

  All of the other girls have paired off, Emily and Michelle, Nat and Kate, Brielle with Lexy, so I guess that leaves me and—

  Chloe gives a swift kick to the back of my thigh.

  “Up!” she barks.

  I spring to my feet and wrap my hand around her wrist.

  Do that again, I beg of you. See how far you can push me, I glare into her.

  I believe you’re angry, Skyla. Angry enough to kick my ass everyday of the week, her face lights up with dark pleasure. But it’s Gage who you’re really fighting for, not some hurt feelings over a little bruise.

  Isn’t that funny how we’re both fighting over Gage, and yet you can never really have him? I ask.

  I have more of him now than you do, she reminds me. All of West thinks we’re together. She ticks her head when she says, together.

  I hate to break it to you, but most of us operate in this little thing called reality. The reality I know says Gage loves me—and hates you.

  A fiery slap ignites across my face. The sound of its fury lies buried in the wind.

  Try me Skyla, she warns. Say it one more time, and see how fast I hunt down Dudley.

  The sun breaks free for a moment, illuminates us with its spotlight as though we were on stage. Chloe’s rage gleams like a jewel. It places the thorny crown of indignation on her head, and my presence alone is enough to press it in—make her bleed.

  Chloe has gone feral, all because of her outright obsession with Gage. I can’t say I blame her. I would go mad without him, too. But he’s mine, and he always will be.

  I think we both know that.

  And we both know it will never change.

  ***

  That evening Mom drives me and my sisters over to Marshall’s house for our math, slash, horseback riding lessons.

  Paragon is lit up like a Christmas tree, literally. Giant colorful bulbs dance across rooflines. Trees are wrapped in twinkle lights up and down the island. You would think the city issued a mandate, stipulating it a public service to decorate everything on or around your property line. I watch as mangers and giant cartoon cutouts of Santa Claus spike, lawn after lawn. Some people have completely lost their minds with elaborate light shows that coordinate with music, one with a merry-go-round in their front yard and a miniature Ferris wheel with stuffed animals riding along as passengers. Another house has a bonafide single passenger airplane out front with Santa at the helm.

  I don’t remember Christmas in L.A. being so impregnated into our world. Tad is making us wait until later this week to decorate. Mom had to talk him into bumping up the festivities from Christmas Eve. What’s the point of decorating twelve hours before the big event anyway? When my dad was alive, we started singing Christmas carols right after Halloween.

  Mom pulls into the huge circular drive and takes off as soon as we file out of the car.

  Melissa circles around back while Mia hangs around an extra second to vex me.

  “So you gonna make out with your teacher again?” She stands almost eye to eye with me now, and somehow I find this irritating.

  I take in a quick agitated breath before answering. “No, Mia. I’m with Gage. All making out takes place with him, nobody else. I swear.” I hold up two fingers like a girl scout.

  She cocks her head to the side. “Does he know about the baby?”

  “No,” I hiss like an irate cat. I’m not sure if she means Gage or Marshall.

  “You’re going to have to tell eventually.” She shoves her purse under her shirt and wags her tongue out the side of her mouth.

  “There’s nothing to tell. I’m not having a baby.” And if Gage keeps arresting me like a criminal before any real action happens, I never will.

  “How’s the car coming?”

  “I take the driver’s test Friday.” The first test I’m actually looking forward to. I think I’ll celebrate by taking Gage out after—ironic since technically it’s Logan’s car I’ll be taking him out in. I think about being with Gage in the backseat of my new car, and my stomach explodes with excitement. Then my ridiculous brain flops the situation, and I see Logan and I going at it like two wild beasts, me in a ball gown with the skirt hiked up around my waist, him lying naked on top of me. We fog up the windows and there’s a hand pressed against the glass just like in that one movie.

  My fingers fly to my lips. Logan? A ball gown—really?

  “I’ve got a date Saturday night,” Mia says snapping me back to reality.

  “You can’t date, you’re like seven.”

  “Thirteen and a half. I got my braces off last Tuesday, thanks for noticing. Oh, that’s right, you don’t notice anything unless it involves you.”

  “Mia.” My mouth hangs open.

  She takes off around the back.

  ***

  After a series of hard knocks, I let myself into Marshall’s palatial estate and find him in the living room untangling Christmas lights straight out of the box.

  “Can’t you do some Sector magic and have the best darn tree that ever was?” I say plugging in the lights he’s lassoed himself with.

  Marshall glows beneath the pointed crystal bulbs.

  “Pretty,” I say walking over and helping him out.

  “Yes, you are.” He throws them in the air, and they land perfectly around the fifteen-foot pine standing erect in the middle of the room.

  “I think you should put it in the corner.”

  “As the woman of the house, I’ll gladly let you supervise.” He maneuvers it back a good three feet near the piano.

  “Perfect,” I say. “So, my father gave me an interesting piece of news.” It feels like a million years ago that I saw my dad. I can’t believe Logan went back without me, something about that doesn’t sit well with me.

  “Which is?”

  “My real mom is a Caelestis. Her name is Candy. I’m sure you know all this,” I say plucking a box of apple red ornaments from out of a shopping bag.

  “Candace,” he corrects, “and, yes, we’ve met.”


  “God,” I pause in horror, “you’re not my father are you?”

  “What kind of pervert do you think I am?” Even in his utter disgust Marshall is cuttingly attractive.

  “Sick enough for it to be true on some level. How well do you know her?”

  “She’s an acquaintance.”

  “I’d like for her to be an acquaintance of mine. Can you arrange that?”

  “I can arrange lots of things.” His finger twirls in the air. “Next time you come in, leave your poltergeist at the door. That spook of yours is running around the celestial sphere bragging about this body you’re supplying him with.” Marshall looks annoyed at the thought. “I could remedy this you know.”

  “By giving him Chloe’s body?” I think it’s a stroke of genius.

  “Getting to you already, is she?” He attaches a gold ball to the boughs of a lower branch.

  “You don’t know the half of it. And Holden’s been his raucous self with the exception I thought he helped me win the faction war.” I tell him about my hallucination. “And now that rose has mysteriously ended up around Michelle’s neck again,” I say accusingly.

  kquote Sounds like a Christmas miracle,” he gives an impish grin.

  “Nice work. No details please.”

  “What can I say—the Fems were restless.”

  “What exactly is a Fem? I remember Logan tried to explain it to me once. He said they were nothing but balls of air.”

  “Do they look like balls of air?” He motions me over to the tree, and I get to work.

  “No.” Anything but.

  “You’re a ball of air, I’m a ball of air, we’re all a ball of air, but we reside in temporal bodies, don’t we?” Marshall eyes me critically as though my answer were of some importance.

  “Don’t tell me I’m going to be a ball of air in the afterlife.” First of all, balls of air seem to be exempt from all physical activity, which slightly downgrades Gage’s offer to love me for all eternity, at least the way I want.

  “For a time, then you’ll be back in full working order, new body intact—this I promise.”

  That vision of Logan and me steaming up the backseat of the Mustang spikes up uninvited, and I try to shake away the thought.

  Marshall gives a Cheshire cat grin as though he knows what I’m thinking.

  I suck in a lungful of air. “You do know!” Obviously I’ve dumbed down to a mere mortal after Pierce tried to suck the lifeblood out of me.

  “Relax, it’s not quite as bad as it seems. You’ve piddled down to your boyfriend’s status. When your mind goes to mush I can see through it like a window. And the evening gown would have looked spectacular on you, had you not been horizontal.”

  “OK, I gotta go.” I try to bolt for the door, but he snatches me back by the elbow.

  “Come here, love,” he says it sweetly, “I’ll try to arrange a meeting with your mother. Consider it an early Christmas gift. She, however, has a mind of her own, and I make no promises.”

  I remember the last time Marshall gave me a present, and I found out my entire family, including Logan, were Counts. Not sure he knows how the whole gift-giving thing is supposed to work.

  “OK,” I’m almost afraid to accept.

  “I’ll answer your question about Fems, but first I have to express my utter disdain with your recent actions concerning high powered weaponry and the pretty Oliver, whom, by the way, I suggest you steer clear of.”

  I swallow hard.

  “That’s right, Ms. Messenger. I’ve been apprised of your erratic and, might I add, violent behavior.” He points hard to the spirit sword hanging innocently above his fireplace. “You have authority to use it. Not that one, the one that lies in your possession. You do not have authority to blow people’s brains out for sport. You’ve upped the ante. You have no idea who these people are or how they operate. I implore you to cease and desist your murderous spree at once.”

  “So if I killed them with the sword, we wouldn’t be having this conversation?”

  “Perhaps not.” He looks at me sharply. “And to answer your question, Fems are a lower order of celestial beings,” he hesitates a moment, “they’ve sided with Countenance.”

  “Sided with the Counts?” I examine him in earnest. “Sided against what?”

  “They’re trying to incite a reversal of power. As it stands now, Sectors rule supreme.”

  “Sectors rule and Fems drool?” I’m only half joking.

  “Haven’t you learned to never slander a celestial being? Be wise, Skyla, that sword in your mouth wields more power than you know. And try not to have such lewd thoughts around me regarding the pretty one. It’s infuriating to see my wife engage in carnal relations with someone other than myself.”

  I’m finding Marshall’s rapid-fire admonishing worrisome and amusing all at the same time.

  “So you’re in a war with the Fems?” I ask, ignoring the rest of his babble.

  “They’re posturing.” He places a bulb on the tree and wraps his arms around my waist, admiring his work.

  A part of me knows I should push him away, then again, a part of me knows I might get more of Marshall’s truths if I don’t.

  “So you’re about to have a battle with Fems? What kind of payment are they taking from the Counts to do their dirty work?” All I know is that Fems are shape shifters that torment innocent people like me at the Count’s bidding.

  “The Counts have aligned with Fems. So when the battle commences, and they try to overthrow Sectors, they’ll have two planes of dominance as will the Counts.”

  “I thought you trained Fems? Don’t you control them?”

  “Does the word coup ring a bell? Has there never been a government overthrown on this planet before? It’s happened once before in the ethereal plane, the Fems taking down the Sectors, but over time we reverted back to power.”

  “And now they think it’s their turn,” I nod, getting it for the first time. “What happens to the rest of us if the Fems and Counts take over?”

  “Ever hear of the dark ages? The bubonic plague? Horrific oppression—disaster, that’s what happens. They rather enjoy winnowing the masses.”

  “Why is that?” My eyes sweep over him horrified.

  “The Counts are spared in such efforts, Skyla. In addition to my job demotion, they allow the Counts to proliferate their numbers. It’s win-win for wickedness.”

  “Job demotion?” I mouth the words. It would almost be comical if he didn’t paint such a scary picture. “This is huge,” I whisper.

  “I’m glad you realize the scope and magnitude of what lies before you.”

  “Why didn’t you explain all this before?” I’m overwhelmed by the windfall of knowledge.

  “You weren’t in a proper place to hear it. Neither were you aware of your true heritage.” He pulls me closer.

  “What do I have to do with any of this?”

  “Let me show you.”

  To my disappointment, I don’t fight him when he sinks me into a kiss. It’s like I have this calling to do something fearfully magnificent beyond the scope of the universe itself, and for the first time I feel the weight of its burden locked on my shoulders. The only way I could even hope to harvest a glance into the future is directly through Marshall’s upper orifice.

  It’s a vision of me. I’m not anywhere or doing anything. I’m glowing. My entire person radiates a soft rainbow of light. It illuminates me from the inside like the soft flicker of a candle. My hair shimmers in waves of gold floss, my eyes speak a soulful language all their own. I don’t believe I could ever look that beautiful.

  A flash goes off, then a loud thump towards the doorway.

  My eyes fly open to find Mia gripping her phone as she takes off running out the back.

  I have a feeling all unholy hell is about to break loose. And it will be anything but beautiful.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I’ve Got a Feeling

  In the morning, before breakfast, I c
onsider the fact that according to Mia, not only am I pregnant—but I’m also cheating on Gage with my math teacher. She’s loaded with dangerous half-truths, and right about now I wish it were in reverse. I’d much rather be pregnant with Gage’s love child than let Marshall ply me with the future by way of his lips. I should have known the vision was going to be futile, they always are, except for when they’re not, like the life shattering ones that came to fruition in a surprising way at my birthday party. Then it hits me.

  Crap.

  Not only am I Chloe’s bitch—but I’ve been hijacked by Mia as well.

  Downstairs, I find Mia and Mom huddled by the stove locked in a secretive conversation. Quite frankly I’m still too peeved at them for being Counts to really care what they’re whispering about, but I’m guessing I can take a lucky stab at the subject.

  Mia straightens when she sees me then makes a beeline upstairs.

  Figures. Now all I have to do is wait for Tad to hold the next ‘family meeting’. Tad and Drake walk in the room and take seats at the bar.

  “So are you going to this—all school sleep, right after Christmas?” Tad looks perturbed by the idea.

  That’s right, I think Brielle mentioned something, but I think it was called something else.

  “All school ski,” Drake corrects, “and yes.”

  “Me too.” I make myself a cup of coffee and pluck a banana from the fruit bowl.

  “Sounds like a week long orgy if you ask me,” Tad says. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”