Vex

by Addison Moore

  “There is no seatbelt,” he pulls a bar over our heads, and lets it rest in front of us.

  “This is so barbaric. They should have us strapped in like on one of those crazy rides at an amusement park with the five way belts, and a freaking bar pressed into our stomachs to the point we can’t breathe.”

  I take in a series of short little panic breaths as we climb higher and higher at an agonizingly slow clip. “Who’s running this thing? Chloe?” I know for a fact she’s not. She’s practicing her Olympic worthy maneuvers over on the black diamond runs because just a minute ago, she was begging Gage to join her. She said she’d take me on a few runs herself, if I wanted. “If Chloe takes me on this thing, you know she’s going to push me off.” God—it’s so far down, I’m half afraid I’ll toss myself overboard just from sheer temptation.

  “You’re fine. Don’t think about Chloe.” He scoots in, and the entire apparatus sways and bucks.

  “Shit!” I clutch onto the useless bar situated a good foot in front of me. And to my disbelieving horror, we climb even higher into the stratosphere. “You do realize I’m deathly afraid of heights.”

  “I thought you were deathly afraid of clowns?” He gives a devilish grin.

  “I’d welcome a clown right about now. An entire army of exploding Fem clowns would be more acceptable than this torment you’re putting me through.”

  “I’m putting you through?” He brims ear to ear as though it were the funniest thing in the world. “Tell me again how hot we were in the past.” He lands a sweltering kiss on the side of my face.

  “Funny thing is, I was simultaneously killing Chloe and getting it on with you.”

  “You get props for that,” he whispers into my ear as though there were the off chance somebody might actually hear.

  I turn just enough to see Brielle and Drake behind us in a serious lip lock. I so get it. She’s probably comforting him since this is his first time, too. OK, Brielle and Drake are right. I need to think about getting it on with Gage just to get my mind off the harsh reality of what feels like a three thousand foot drop looming below.

  “In addition to that,” my voice shakes, “and more importantly,” God, my head would explode like a watermelon if I fell right now and with my rotten luck, Dr. Oliver would figure out a way to glue me back together—it so wouldn’t be pretty. “Um, anyway, we were sizzling in two time dimensions. Best New Year’s Eve slash homecoming ever.”

  “I have the room in two days.” His arm tightens around my waist.

  My mouth falls open.

  “Two days,” I breathe it out like a poem.

  “You think you’re ready?” His face smoothes out at the prospect, and I swear I see the slightest hint of blush on the apples of his cheeks as though he weren’t sure himself.

  “I’m ready now.”

  “Then, for sure, we’d fall off.”

  “Can you think of a better way to die?” I ask, scratching the back of his neck with my fingers.

  “Nope,” Gage looks straight ahead as though he were imagining it.

  “Me neither.” I pull him over by the chin—make him kiss me all the way to the top.

  ***

  OK, getting on was one thing, but getting off is going to be impossible.

  “Now!” Gage shouts with excitement as he tries to yank me off the chair by the arm. I try standing, only to hang onto the lift with the other arm and end up somewhere underneath the seat, one ski on and one ski off.

  I knew this was a bad idea. I knew, long before the day was over, I was going to injure myself severely. I should have taken Marshall up on his offer during breakfast, cuddled with him, warm and safe in his bed.

  The lift operator stops the machine. He comes out with a clear look of frustration as he and Gage yank me to my feet. I hobble and slide my way over to a bench nearby. Gage flops my errant ski on the snow and instructs me to step into it.

  “Do people really enjoy this?” I find this, whole, put on uncomfortable clothes, and fifty pounds of leg weights thing hard to swallow.

  “People love this. And, you will, too. You just need to get the hang of it.”

  “When did you learn how to ski?” I give a hard step into the binding.

  “I don’t know, I think I was four or five.”

  “Are you kidding? This isn’t safe for children.” I’m shocked by Emma and Barron’s gross negligence.

  “It’s totally safe for children, children do this every day.”

  Brielle and Drake glide by. He actually looks like he knows what he’s doing, and this perturbs me.

  “Come on, I’ll guide you. Remember to make the pizza slice with your skis and sit in the invisible chair when you start to feel out of control.”

  “Right.” Invisible chairs and pizza slices—it fits right in with the random order of all things skiing.

  I scissor forward. Gage lets me hold onto one of his poles as we head towards what looks like a very steep drop off. “Um, where’s the bunny slope?”

  “You’re on it.”

  It’s a freaking cliff!

  “I’m going to nose dive. I’m going to fall into a ditch and break my neck,” I pant.

  “I promise, no ditches. Come on. You’ll love it, I swear.”

  Brielle and Drake are already near the bottom, and he’s still intact as far as I can tell.

  I start in slow, following close behind Gage barely managing to stay on my feet. I’m baby giraffing it—flailing, as I mimic his every twist and turn. We create a series of less than perfect letter S patterns, and I start to relax, feel the wind on my face as I cascade effortless towards Gage.

  A dark feathered bird flies regal overhead in a slow spinning circle. It’s Nev!

  I hold up a pole to get his attention, and my left ski slips in line besides my right.

  “You’re paralleling,” Gage shouts, “that’s more of an advanced move. Make a pizza slice.”

  Without warning, I’m racing across the mountain in a horizontal line past the bunny slope, underneath the ski lift, across a far more advance run with bodies darting all around, and I do the unthinkable—I close my eyes as I barrel in at an alarming clip right into the forest.

  I can hear Gage shouting from behind. The dense cover of trees douses his voice like a flame, assuring me I’m the only person on this dark, lonely planet.

  Marshall said he smelled death at camp. Gage never did say he had a vision of Logan and I living to a ripe old age, he just said it as a fact. What if he was trying to pull some sort of positive thinking, mind control thing on me because secretly he knew I was going to croak sooner than later?

  What if death at camp waits for me?

  I slowly open my eyes. Ice-cold wind stabs through them sharp as glass. Trees whiz by in a blur. I’m moving faster than most cars I’ve been in. I can see the tips of pines straight ahead and for a moment I wonder why I’m practically above them.

  My skis give way beneath me—I tumble down a jagged ravine until the entire world fades to black.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Mother

  A harsh light comes from above. It blurs my vision, forcing me to give several hard blinks.

  “Skyla,” a soft voice echoes from above. “Skyla, wake up.”

  “Mom?” I mean Lizbeth, but a part of me wants it to be Candace.

  A shock of dark hair, bright blue eyes burn through me. I recognize those deep-set dimples. It’s Gage’s long dead sister.

  “Giselle,” I offer a startled smile.

  She gives me a hand, I feel light as feather as I rise to my feet. I shake the snow off the back of the oversized circus pants Mom picked out for me to wear.

  “I look ridiculous. All of the other girls look cute in tight fitting outfits and I could fit ten of me in here.” I attempt to tug at the monster-sized jacket, and I can’t seem to grasp the fabric. “I think something’s wrong with my head. I feel numb all over.”

  Giselle flicks a finger down at the powder rich ground. Halfw
ay buried lies a girl with her hair spilled out in long spiral tendrils.

  “Oh, my God!” My hands fly up to my face. I bend over and try to rouse her but I can’t feel her. It’s only then I notice she’s wearing the same tragically ugly snowsuit, and I let out an unexpected scream.

  “It’s OK, Skyla.” Giselle seems unmoved by the fact I’m lying on the ground while standing over myself simultaneously—a completely impossible feat for the living in general.

  “Am I dead?” Three words I never thought I’d say, not yet anyway.

  “You’re unconscious. You hit your head pretty hard.”

  “Well, don’t just stand there. Wake me up. Fix me—heal me. I’m going to freeze out here. They’ll have to hack off all my limbs just to save me.” The errant thought of harvesting Chloe for more parts runs through my mind.

  “They won’t find you until much later,” she says it with a sorrowful expression. “But they will eventually, isn’t that great news?”

  Later? Like, how much later? Weeks? Months?

  “No, Giselle, it’s not good news. Not if I have to live the rest of my life as a torso. It’s definitely not alright.” I dart around looking for something that might lead someone to me, a pathway, an unexpected slope, but I’m completely isolated. In the far distance, I can hear Gage as his voice drifts off in the wrong direction. “How could this have happened? Nevermore!” I let it rip in one bionic roar, but my voice sounds muted, like shouting in a fishbowl.

  “Come, Skyla,” she offers her hand. “Nevermore can’t hear you.”

  “Help me call him. He’ll get Gage.”

  “You’re not awake to instruct him. He responds to commands. I’m afraid it’s pure luck that they find you at all. You need to come with me.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Your mother would like to see you now.”

  ***

  The earth moves. It shifts under our feet. The backdrop turns once to the right, and we’re no longer standing at the bottom of a mountain ravine, we’re standing somewhere vaguely familiar with a fat lavender moon and cobbled streets.

  “Sectorville,” I say just under my breath.

  “Soulennium,” Giselle corrects, pointing over my shoulder, “Transport,” she orients me to a large red cave that stands out like a thing of beauty in this strange ever-dark world.

  There’s a coffee shop ahead with tables set out and far more patrons than I remember from the time I was here with Marshall. I would give anything if he were here. I can’t help feeling alone and terrified as though I’m about to fall down a steep flight of stairs with every step I take.

  “I’m here with you,” Giselle assures, leading me towards the crowd seated outside the tiny shop.

  “You can hear me?”

  “We’re touching. If you want to maintain privacy simply pull away.”

  “No, that’s fine.”

  “Skyla!”

  My name booms from up ahead. A girl about my age runs with open arms. Her dark hair spirals in long soft curls with gold highlights that shimmer with an intense brilliance but it’s her white dress that stops me from inching forward. Same one Marshall had me wear when he taught me a lesson by way of his hostile arrows.

  She pauses and takes me in. Her skin is luminescent, strangely pale with a rosy hue on the apples of her cheeks. She is breathtaking, alarmingly beautiful. She lunges at me, locks her arms around my chest so tight. I’m surprised at how comfortable it is—it’s something altogether mysterious, that I have unknowingly been yearning for deep inside. I don’t need an introduction. Instinctively, I know this is my mother.

  “I have counted the moments until this day,” she whispers warm in my ear.

  I pull back and sweep my eyes over her. Her entire person is dusted an iridescent sparkle. She looks radiant—noble, wise beyond understanding.

  “You don’t look that much older than me.” I guess at this point anything is possible, eternal youth being no exception.

  “I’m thousands of years older than you.” Tiny commas depress at the corner of her lips.

  “Did you know we’d be meeting? I mean here and now?”

  She nods. It’s then I notice her eyes—an entire kaleidoscope of iridescent colors.

  Several men tall as trees walk by, and I grow increasingly uncomfortable.

  “I don’t mean to be rude or anything,” I sigh into her. “But do you want something from me?”

  “I do,” her smile fades as she moves us along down the side of the road. “First, I want you to know how much I truly love you. You’re my only child, and I’ll never have another.”

  “I’m being raised by Counts.” I throw it out there in the event she wasn’t entirely aware of what on earth was happening.

  We walk past rows and rows of trees all bearing bulbous ornaments of exotic fruit in every hue and every shape. The flesh toned ones, the size of overgrown pears, look obscene. Their masculinity exudes a certain sexuality and it makes me uncomfortable just looking at them. The boughs hang heavy and low, overburdened with their generous offerings.

  Thick carpeted lawns stretch out before us then stop abruptly at a river, gushing with a thunderous roar. Flat elongated boulders decorate an alcove with their sparkling blue reflection. They look nowhere near like any rocks I’ve ever seen, more like polished gems that gleam in deep jewel tones of onyx and beryl.

  She motions for me to take a seat on one as she stretches out beside me. I watch as Giselle goes off and talks to a group of guys sitting in the distance, dipping their legs while fishing poles sit spiked in the rocks behind them.

  “Skyla, I know everything about you.” She takes up my hand again. “You’re my flesh and my blood—my exact representation in human form. I know the precise location of where you live and with whom. I am aware Lizbeth is your mother. I approved her.” Her gaze drops to her waist when she says it.

  “What about my father’s death? Did you approve that, too?” It’s not like I’m trying to magnificently piss her off—I’d just really like to know.

  “He was murdered. Justice is always served, Skyla. Not when man dictates, but it comes in time.”

  I take in a quick breath. “Is Dad here?” A surge of adrenaline spikes in me, and suddenly I want to ransack the place until I see his smiling face.

  “No, Skyla. He’s in paradise.”

  “Can I go to him?”

  “You’re mortal. No pass for you,” she winks.

  “Then can you please explain why you would approve of Lizbeth Landon as my mother? I mean, I love her and all, but she’s a Count,” I feel the need to reiterate the fact, loud and often.

  “Because I know your destiny. I weigh in on all of the possibilities that are able to transpire within your life.”

  “Because you’re on the decision board? You carve destinies?”

  “Something along those lines,” she takes in a deep breath. “In fact, that’s why I came to earth and had you. The world needs you, more than it could ever imagine.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The World is Waiting

  “Skyla!”

  “Giselle?” My voice sounds flat, distal. The day is traced out in grays and hazy shades of blue. It feels as though hours must have passed. I blink several times in an attempt to get my bearings.

  “It’s me, Logan,” his hot breath pours over my face anxious and worried.

  He drops a kiss onto my nose followed by the warm dew of liquid as he pinches his eyes with his fingers.

  “Are you crying?” I croak the words out, struggling to sit up.

  “I’m happy that I found you—alive.”

  I lean up on my elbows and examine him. He seems genuinely glad to see me. Had I not driven myself here with my lack of athletic abilities, I would have thought Logan had something to do with the fact I landed on this side of the mountain.

  “I would never throw you off a cliff,” he gives a half smile at the absurdity. “Can you move your legs?”

&
nbsp; I wiggle my toes and squirm in my snowsuit.

  “Yes,” I say, taking his hand as he helps me to my feet. I’m still locked in the hundred pound snow boots, and my hands are miraculously still warm in my gloves. “I’m more than OK.” The world gives a tiny warble, and my head throbs as if to disprove my theory.

  Logan picks me up and cradles me in his arms as we traverse fallen branches and slicked ruts of ice that lay over sharpened rocks. It’s not until I come in contact with the warmth of his neck that I realize my face is numb, cold as a glacier. I press my flesh against his—rub my lips, my eyelids over his scorching skin. This is heaven.

  He pauses to text Gage that I’m all right.

  “I saw my mother,” the words chatter out of me.

  “You did?” He examines me. “What happened?”

  “She said the world needed me.” A vaporous plume emits when I say it. It blossoms over his head like a halo. I can’t help but note the irony as it evaporates as quick as it came.

  “Why does the world need you?”

  There’s an intensity in his face I haven’t seen before. It’s as though he’s been after this very answer himself.

  If I did know the answer, I’m not sure I’d tell Logan. And I don’t really care if he’s able to hear me.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “You woke me up in the middle of a very good dream.” Only it wasn’t a dream, and neither is the fact I can sense his craving for me pouring from his existence. I press my ear against his neck and feel the sizzle.

  I love you, Skyla. He says, picking up speed again. I’d die every day to prove it.

  ***

  Logan returns me to the Lodge, he and Gage help me get settled in my room after the medics manhandle me.

  “I’m so sleepy.” My eyes roll back in my head.

  He swims up next to me, wrapping a warm arm around me.

  I had to call Mom and swear up and down I felt fine.