“I don’t think I can do this.” I slide it even further down the counter. Just the harsh smell makes me gag.
She plops a giant orange pill in front of me and sets a cup of milk down.
“OK, Missy, but you’re not turning this away. Take it.” She’s got that stern look in her eyes. I can tell I’m not getting away with refusing the overgrown vitamin, so I pop it and down the milk just to appease her.
“And by the way, I’m not pregnant,” I say.
“Skyla!” She smiles in exasperation. “Let’s not have this conversation again.”
“No really, I’m not.” The joke is over, it’s gone on far too long. I hate the fact I’m going to have to battle this for the next nine months. She’ll think I’m having one of those barely noticeable pregnancies that cause you to have the baby in the bathroom at prom. “Run upstairs, and grab a pregnancy test. I’ll prove it right now.”
“No.” She places her hands firm on her hips. “You’ll have a confirmation test at the specialist’s,” she leans in. “Listen, I had a normal period with Mia every single month. The doctor said it was far more common than you think. If that’s what has you thinking you’re in the clear, think again.”
Oh, God, she’s serious.
I open my mouth to say something, and it occurs to me she didn’t say anything about her pregnancy with me because we both know darn well that it never happened. Just as I’m about to call her out on it, Mia bursts into the room.
“Skyla? Some girl named Chloe is here to see you.”
***
Friends rarely see friends on Christmas. It’s just that way, unless you live nearby, or your families are close, and neither of those happened to be the case. I speed over to the front door with my mother in tow as though she were just as curious to see what in the world Chloe Bishop would be doing at my door on this, the most holy day of the year.
“I have a spare gift you can give, in the event she’s making a delivery,” Mom whispers.
I seriously doubt Chloe picked anything out especially for me, and felt the need to haul it clear across the island Christmas morning. Nope, there’s definitely a misery-inducing trauma waiting on the other side of this visit. Of that I’m sure.
The pale fog emanates from behind her like a spiritual aura. It testifies to her wickedness, giving the illusion she just stepped out of a caldron. She stains the doorway like a shadow until I hit the entry, and see her for what she is, malicious and soulless.
“Merry Christmas, Chloe,” I say it curt.
“Skyla!” My mother swings the door wide, and waves her in.
“No, it’s OK.” Chloe shakes her head. “I brought you a gift,” she looks past my mother at me. It’s probably a python, a demented clown—an entire army of clown Fems. Chloe isn’t the least bit interested in giving me a gift, so already I know this is bad. But nevertheless I have a gift for her.
“Did you hear?” I circle around my mother.
Chloe’s ears peak back as though I had intercepted something malevolent she had been planning since the time of my disappearance.
“I’m having a baby.” I place my hand strategically over my stomach. “Well, Gage and me.” The pleasure of watching Chloe writhe is enough to justify the lie.
She washes over me wild with disbelief.
“Well, anyway,” she cranes her neck in an effort to look behind me. “Is your dad home?”
Everything in me freezes. She of all people knows damn well my dad is dead, then it dawns on me she might mean Tad.
“It’s sort of a gift for the whole family,” she sneers in my direction.
“Honey!” Mom screeches out behind me.
An entire herd of people drain towards the entry.
“Mr. Landon?” Chloe blinks into him as Tad steps up to the threshold. “I happened to be at the gas station, and I met this guy who asked if I could give him a lift to see you.” Chloe moves to the side exposing a boy about my age leaning on the post at the bottom of the stairs.
“Oh, my God,” Tad whispers as he makes his way outside.
I recognize him from the time I was in the Transfer with Gage. It’s the boy from the tank.
Ethan Landon.
Chapter Nine
Hello Again
A bird lets out a cry from somewhere deep in the forest, and the sound resonates in our world as though this hollow place we call home were somehow stretching into life. A frosty breeze blows Chloe’s hair wild into the air—pulls it into the fog, like a shock of black flames.
“Ethan?” Tad nearly misses the first step as he falters down the porch over to the boy with neatly trimmed hair, dressed in a plaid flannel and jeans. “It really is you!” Tad locks him in a hard embrace. You can hear his muffled cries as he chokes out words mixed with tears into his neck. Turns out Tad is human after all, but is Ethan?
A cold shiver runs up my spine. It feels as though I’m watching something right out of a horror movie. Ethan, with his pale gaunt flesh is standing right here in front of me, when I know full well, both Gage and I saw him floating in a vat of blue fluid less than a couple of weeks ago.
Drake bolts down the stairs and knuckle bumps him before pulling him into a man hug.
“Bro, I knew you’d be back.” Drake punches him hard in the arm. “Where’ve you been?”
“Dead.” It takes a minute for him to laugh into it. A decidedly cold gleam in his eyes leaves me staggering with questions.
Dead is right.
“Lizbeth?” Tad turns around. “Gather everyone into the living room. We’ve got some explaining to do.”
Tad escorts Drake’s doppelganger into the house. Ethan gives a cutthroat grin in my direction as he moves past me.
“Hey, Messenger,” Chloe calls.
I look back to make sure the rest of the family is free from her wrath.
“What?” I seriously doubt the fact she was pumping gas and happened to run into the second coming of Ethan Landon, whoever the hell he is.
“I suggest a paternity mix up with the bastard you’re lugging around in your gut. It’s going to get awkward when people see you with Dudley by your side,” Chloe’s teeth glitter when she says it. “The best part of letting Marshall almost in on the fact that I know his secret? He likes to play games as much as I do.”
“Lucky me.”
“No, Skyla—lucky me.”
***
I send a 911 text to Gage before I hit the family room. The last thing I want is to experience this Countastrophy without him here to view it with me live, and in person.
There’s a knock at the door, and I backtrack to let Gage in.
I bite down a smile before kissing him. I love the fact Gage is able to teleport anywhere, well, just about.
“Merry Christmas.” He pushes out a killer grin before dotting my lips with a bonus kiss. “I have a gift for you,” he says it seductive.
“Is it in your pants?” I don’t hide the sarcastic inflection.
“Funny,” he makes a face. “But yes, it’s literally in my pants.”
“Well, then we’ll have to exchange gifts as soon as this fiasco is over,” I say, pulling him into the family room with me.
We walk in to find Melissa seated next to Ethan with her arms locked tight around his waist. She’s smiling like crazy through tears. Sprinkles, the rat-dog, as Tad now affectionately calls him, humps away on Ethan’s shoe. It makes for a disturbing family picture, but Drake snaps it anyway.
“God!” Drake muses staring into the image on his phone. “You look totally the same, like you haven’t aged a day.”
That’s because he hasn’t.
“Does he have to be here for this?” Tad points over at Gage standing innocently by my side.
“He’s family,” my mother admonishes before pulling out a chair for me.
“You are,” I whisper in his ear and watch the apples of his cheeks darken a shade as he pulls me in. It’s strange how the entire world can unravel, people can come back from the
dead and inject themselves into our lives, but none of it impacts our love for one another.
“OK,” Tad claps his hands together. “Mia, Skyla—Gage,” he says his name with disdain. “There is something I haven’t shared with you. About a month after my wife passed away, my oldest son, Ethan,” he pats his hand in his direction, “disappeared from our lives. We’ve had sporadic communication, and just when we thought he was coming back, we didn’t hear from him again, until this wonderful morning.”
“It’s a Christmas miracle!” Melissa belts out the words in his face as she squeezes her arms around him. He plucks her off in haste and averts his eyes to the ceiling.
It’s a miracle all right.
“So please, Ethan,” Tad plucks a chair from the dining room and flips it backwards before sitting. “Tell us everything, and for God’s sake tell me you’re home for good.”
“Oh, I’m fucking home,” Ethan gives Tad a hard look, and I gasp into Gage. Ethan’s really painting himself to be the devil Landon. Who knew they could get worse than Tad?
He must have really took it hard when his mom died to run away like that, Gage says, rubbing my arm. If I were Tad’s son I’d probably consider the same thing. But then again, he was killed, so things didn’t really work out that great for him.
“Where’ve you been?” Tad tries unsuccessfully to siphon information out of him.
“Here and there.” Ethan is a stone. His entire face is frozen in a hard stare. He’s not even really warming up to Melissa who hasn’t stopped pawing him.
Sprinkles trots over to his other foot, and Ethan swiftly launches him across the room.
“Hey!” Mia barks.
“He didn’t mean it,” Melissa is quick to defend. “Sprinkles can be totally annoying sometimes.”
“So,” Tad continues his quest for knowledge, “are you enrolled in school? It’s your senior year, you should be living it up.”
“Nope.” His hands stretch across the back of the sofa, and he openly belches in Melissa’s face.
Gross.
Melissa wretches as she jumps off the couch.
“Ethan, I demand you tell me something. How did you find us? Will you stay with us? You’re a part of our family. I really think you should consider this.”
“Stop hounding me alright, Pops?” Ethan roars over to Tad. “I’ve been hanging with a couple friends, and no, I haven’t been to school, but yes, I will get my ass back to class.” He closes his eyes momentarily as though he already regrets his decision to come back. “I’ll crash here,” he gives a sly look in my direction. “I like the company.”
“Well, you’re welcome to stay with us,” the words tremble from my mother’s lips. Obviously this guy is in serious need of, more than a few, anger management sessions with Dr. Booth.
“Of course, you’ll stay here,” Tad offers. “You can have the den. You’ll have to adhere to my rules though, like keeping up your grades and getting a job.”
“Rules?” Ethan cuts me a look as though I were somehow responsible. “I’ve got a rule. Call me by my new name—Holden.”
Chapter Ten
Body
I take Gage by the hand and bolt out the front door so fast I don’t even rectify the mad dash by way of an excuse.
A violent spike of nausea rolls through me, and I yak right over the railing.
“Skyla? Is everything OK?” My mother speeds out the door. “You’re sick! Oh, Hon, I’ll make you some ginger tea.”
“No,” I spit the rancid taste out of my mouth. “I’m fine. I just needed some fresh air. Gage is here. I’ll be OK.”
“I’ll take her for a walk,” Gage offers, helping me down the stairs and into the street.
“What are we going to do?” I bounce on my heels in a panic.
His eyes darken as he stares out at some invisible horizon behind me.
“I don’t know. I need some time to think.” His dimples depress. “Don’t worry, I’ll be with you. We’ll figure something out as soon as I can get over the fact you’re living with that psychotic monster.”
His cell goes off, and he turns to the side.
“Hey you guys!” Brielle hobbles down her driveway as she makes her way over.
Brielle is the last living soul I ever care to see. Well, maybe Holden tops her on that one, but just by a little. She and Logan are tied for number one on my ever-growing shit list.
“Merry Christmas! I so missed you!” She falls over me with a hug.
I pluck her off carefully. She’s wearing bright red FMs covered in glitter, and right about now I’m wishing she’d click her heels together and disappear home.
“Are you kidding me?” I screech at her. “You tried to kill me. Don’t even try and pull that I don’t know what you’re talking about crap because I am too far gone to play your stupid games.”
A swarm of lavender clouds move swiftly above us. A storm is gearing up to pound our world. I hope it drowns half the residents.
“OK, look,” her features sharpen. “I know we need to talk.”
Talk—kill, the words seem interchangeable here on Paragon.
“I sort of gotta go.” Gage flashes his phone at me.
“Chloe?” I practically gag on her name.
“It’s my mom. I disappeared in the middle of her Christmas cheesecake, and she gets testy about things like that. You wanna come?”
I glance back at the house.
“I would love to come, but my stomach’s all jacked up.” If I puke after eating anything Emma makes, she might excommunicate me from meals forever. “You go ahead. I’ll be OK. But, please, come back.”
“I still need to give you my gift. I’ll call you,” he leans in and kisses my cheek. Gage takes off behind the house to transport himself in private.
“Let’s go inside. It’s freezing.” Brielle rubs her bare arms up and down. “Drake told me about the baby, we can exchange notes.”
“You’re insane. I’m not the one having a baby around here, you are,” I snap.
Her copper highlights accentuate her clear green eyes. She looks more like my mother than I do.
“Please, I really want to get past all this Count, Celestra bullshit. I’ve never bought into it, I swear.” She holds three fingers up as if to testify.
“Fine, we can talk here.” The least I can do is pump her for all the information she’s worth, then again, Counts are prone to lying.
“I can’t. I really have to sit down, these things are killing me.” She lifts a sparkling hoof. “Can we go to your place? My mom’s new boyfriend is over.”
“We sort of have a guest of our own.” I glare at the house as though it were Holden himself.
“Oh, what the hell, we can go up to my room,” she offers, taking me by the hand. “It’s not like you’re going to stab every one of her boyfriends in the gut. Right?”
***
The thick scent of eggs and bacon permeates Brielle’s house. Come to think of it, that’s all Brielle’s house ever smells like. From floor to ceiling, the place looks wrapped in white and blue toile with touches of pink interspersed. Actually the entire house looks like a nursery—lucky for Brielle because she’s the one who’s actually having a baby.
“Sweetie!” Darla comes toward me at top speed. “You were so dirty last night, I was frightened for you. Are you feeling OK? Brielle told me about the—” she points to my stomach.
“Oh, well, actually—” I start.
A tall, dark haired man comes out of the kitchen examining the label on the back of a whipped cream can.
“Sweetie, I think this expired twelve days ago. I might have to arrest you for negligible refrigeration practices.” He lifts his head with a grin.
It’s him!
Demetri freaking Edinger.
I can’t breathe or move or think.
An amber mosaic vase catches the corner of my eye, and I have a serious flashback of cutting Logan’s face with the Root Beer bottle. Without hesitating I snatch it up with bo
th hands and smash it into the sofa table.
First, I’m taken aback by the initial heft and, second, I’m rather disappointed that it shattered into a million tiny pieces leaving me with twin shards that could hardly illicit a paper cut.
“Stand back!” I shout, hopping up on the couch.
“Shoes!” Darla points hard at the apparent sin I’m committing by having my feet on her furniture, totally disregarding the fact I’ve just turned her vase into confetti.
“I will cut you, I swear,” I hiss over at him.
His arms fly up, and a thread of whipped cream flies through the air like a thin anemic snake.
“Whoa, what’s going on?” He looks genuinely perplexed.
“You’re what’s going on. I know exactly who you are.”
“Have we met?” He looks indignant as though he truly were clueless as to who I am.
“I’m not buying your bullshit, Demetri. Brielle was there, she knows.” I hiss his name out as though it were vile, which it totally is.
Brielle snatches me by the elbow and pulls me off the couch.
“She’s not feeling so good,” she says, leading me up the stairs.
That’s an understatement.
“Oh, and, Skyla?” Demetri lifts his dark eyes over at me. “I hear you’ve had a lengthy absence,” his words swirl through the air like toxins. “It’s nice to have you back.”
Chapter Eleven
Fear Everyone
I slam shut Brielle’s bedroom door and try sliding the dresser over, but it’s attached to the wall, so I arm myself with a ruler from off her desk.
“What the hell is going on? Is this some kind of trap?” I should have known Brielle’s invitation was nothing more than a set up for a Christmas day slaughter.
“I knew you’d freak. Would you stop already?” Brielle drills the air with her protest.
I go over and lay on the bed trying to stave off tears over the fact that the man who is directly responsible for my father’s death is downstairs enjoying dessert, and my father can’t enjoy a single breath.
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