Vex

by Addison Moore

  “Yes, these are one in the same. I gift them to you. Keep one with you at all times. If you should find yourself in the ethereal plane and you need to get out for whatever reason, toss one in the air and let it hit the ground.”

  “It forfeits the round to the enemy,” my mother frowns, “those are three gifts to the Countenance in your possession.”

  “Those are three gifts for your protection,” Marshall counters. “Use them wisely. You get three escapes from death’s clutches and no more.”

  “Death’s clutches,” I whisper, grabbing a hold of my neck.

  “It’s highly dangerous out there,” my mother says intently. “Good luck.” She sounds far too glib before disappearing.

  “Good luck?” I turn to Marshall, and we blink back into his kitchen. “What the hell does good luck mean?” I ask.

  “It means,” he clasps the discs in my hands, “for all practical purposes, you, my love—are on your own.”

  Chapter Seventy

  Strychnine Surprise

  Turns out Tad and Holden are both spending the night at the hospital. Mia and Melissa beg me to take them over for a visit. The long, sterile corridors hold the sharp stench of ammonia, and large stacks of dinner trays sit unsupervised in the halls.

  “Skyla,” Mom gives a soft kiss on my forehead while Melissa sobs into a scraped up Tad.

  “Where’s Holden?” I ask.

  “Two rooms down,” her eyes glitter with despair.

  “I’m going to go see him.”

  I walk over briskly to find him channel surfing, heavily peppered with dark brown scabs all over his face and arms.

  “What’s up, Sis?” He says it with no affect, doesn’t bother to break his gaze from the television.

  I shut the door and speed over.

  “You can’t keep acting like this. They’re not going to put up with your bullshit.”

  “I’m moving back with my dad. I’ve finally convinced him it’s me.”

  “You can’t do that, you’ll kill Melissa. She worships you.”

  “Who?” he looks genuinely confused. “Anyway, I left something behind, and I need to get it, so let’s go back.”

  “Back where?”

  “You know where,” he barks, snatching me up by wrist. “Right now.” He picks up a glass vase and cracks it in half, pressing the splintered edge against my neck.

  “OK, I’ll take you,” I puff out the words. But it’s questionable whether or not I’ll be bringing him back.

  ***

  This time I manage to land us more accurately near Emerson’s appointment with death and watch as Holden bolts across the street to his father’s café.

  I have about ten dollars in my back pocket, so I head over and buy myself a mocha-iced coffee. I find a seat in the back behind some fake foliage and try to imagine what my life would be like if my father never died, if Paragon remained some dot on the map I’d never heard of.

  Emerson walks in, causing me to crouch further into the corner. She shares a laugh with a boy at the counter before taking a seat at a booth just over from mine.

  I watch as she takes a few careful sips of her drink, lounges over the table as though she were about to indulge in a nap.

  Chloe strides in.

  Shit.

  I pan the vicinity for an exit, but there isn’t one. I might have to leave Holden here out of necessity.

  She swoops in and sits across from Emerson.

  “Are you sure you want to do this? I’ve never given you so much before.” Chloe sounds fake, per usual.

  “Are you kidding? I’m dying to light drive. A friend of mine told me about this treble where I could keep renewing my stash.”

  Freaking Ellis.

  “Who needs a car when I can time travel wherever I want?” Emerson continues. “I could even try and fix a few things for you,” she offers as an incentive.

  “You can’t fix anything—nothing significant changes.” Chloe sounds disappointed with her revelation. “Anyway, I do this for you, and you do something for me, right?”

  “I never tell.”

  Emerson still thinks she’s meeting Gage and me at the bowling alley later to spill her guts in exchange for a smelly pair of shoes and stale pizza.

  “That girl came around asking about you,” Emerson pulls a lock of dark hair into her mouth and bites down with a smile.

  And there it is.

  “I figured she would,” Chloe’s left eyebrow arches so high I think it’s going to leave her face. “What’d you tell her?”

  “I pretended I’d tell her anything she wanted. I thought she was bringing me a bribe, but she didn’t. Plus, they offered me some bogus deal at the bowling alley.”

  “They?”

  “Her and some guy with black hair, big blue eyes.”

  “Gage,” her mouth falls open in a sickly sort of way. “He doesn’t want me, never has,” the words come out slow and melodic. Chloe plucks at her fingers until it looks as though they’re elongating from the effort.

  “I’m meeting them after. You can come with me if you want.”

  “Oh, are you?” Chloe purrs. “Maybe I will.”

  They get up and disappear outside. From the window, I can see them heading down the side stairwell.

  Chloe looked totally traumatized by the fact Gage doesn’t want her. I try and put myself in Chloe’s shoes, pining over a boy who would never love me, one I would kill for, hold the entire world hostage with blackmail just to taste his love. An indescribable grief rips through me at the thought of not having Gage—at the thought of Logan with someone else. How I, will ever let go of Logan I do not know, but I have a feeling any genuine happiness I plan on having with Gage, hinges upon it.

  I sit and ponder the trappings of my love life while waiting for Holden to appear, or not.

  When Holden finally returns, his face is a ghastly grey, and he’s sweating profusely.

  “She’s poisoning you,” I hiss over at him. “You should throw up or something.”

  “Shut up and take me back.”

  Can’t say I didn’t warn him.

  ***

  Holden writhes for days, screaming and retching at Mom and Tad anytime they offer to help. It’s not until it’s deathly quiet in his room that we notice he’s finally passed out. The hospital readmits him straight to the ICU, and they can’t figure out what the hell is wrong with him.

  “He probably caught some superbug,” Drake suggests at breakfast.

  “Do you think we can catch it?” Mia lets the milk slide out the side of her mouth in disgust.

  To say he’s been in pain is a mild understatement. The second he came to at the hospital he started up with raucous screaming, and the hospital was quick to pump him full of morphine.

  “I don’t want him to suffer,” Melissa pushes her eggs around, biting down on her lip in an effort to stave off tears.

  The only one suffering here is her.

  “Um,” I pat her hand from across the counter, “he’s in the best place possible, and I think I heard the doctor say they’d have clear answers in just a few days.” I try to sound hopeful, but, truthfully, what I heard was, if he’s not dead in three days, it’ll be a miracle.

  Melissa nods as a thick silver tear rolls down her plump cheek.

  I don’t know if that helped. It seems the only thing I can do with speed and accuracy is make things worse, speaking of which…

  “Winter formal is tonight,” I say it weak to Mom as she lands a plate full of bacon in front of me.

  “And you are not going,” Tad practically sings the words out. “Outside of the fact it’s a part of your punishment, we are in the middle of a family crisis. I think you should keep vigil at your stepbrother’s side.”

  I can’t imagine the hypocrisy of it all. Besides, I tried to tell Holden that she was corrupting his system with toxins, but he wouldn’t listen. It’s like he secretly wants to be disembodied, floating off in space, harassing unsuspecting humans.


  “I think I’ll stay in,” I say. “I’m not feeling so hot myself. I’ll visit in the morning.” I glance over at Drake who confirms he’s with me, by way of a nod.

  “Melissa and I will go,” Mia pulls Melissa in by the waist. Melissa looks haggard from the trauma of it all. I can’t imagine how it feels to lose someone you love, then get them back, only to be on the verge of losing them again.

  “He’ll get better,” I say, hopeful.

  “Bring some books to read,” Mom suggests. “It’s nothing but a waiting game now.”

  I can’t help note how calm the house is without Holden, how normal it actually feels to be sitting around having breakfast with Drake and my sisters, Mom, and Tad. Sure, the china cabinet has been gutted, and the chandelier has yet to be reattached to the ceiling, but other than that, I can appreciate this new Holden-free home—for now at least.

  “He’s not coming back,” Tad says soberly, looking over at Melissa and Drake. “I won’t let him.”

  If Ethan does manage to somehow land back in his body, it’ll be a real shame. Holden has already turned his whole world to shit.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Chain of Fools

  The night air sings with excitement, the energy sizzles in the wind. The lone eye of a three quarter moon spies us with curiosity as an endless parade of possibilities stream by disguised as morose billows across the sky.

  I hitch a ride over to Marshall’s by way of Brielle and Drake.

  Drake looks dapper in his suit, his hair neatly slicked back with too much gel accentuating the sharp point of his widow’s peak.

  “It’s not like my brother would have sat around and picked his nose for me,” Drake laments to no one in particular. “He’s just an ass, and asses don’t die off, they live forever. I don’t even feel guilty about going tonight.” He averts his gaze out the window. Brielle looks back at me, forlorn, because we can both sense his guilt, thick as pea soup.

  “You look amazing!” I say to her, in an effort to change the subject. She’s got on a long white dress with cap sleeves that actually makes her look elegant and mature.

  “Check this out,” she lifts the midriff portion of her dress, revealing a giant slit in the fabric, causing her stomach to lurch out like a mini basketball.

  Oh, that’s sort of gross actually.

  “It’s a belly dress,” she slaps her stomach. “You got it, you flaunt it.”

  “Right.” I force a half smile. I’ll be the last person to let her know she looks deformed in it—that maybe, a high school dance isn’t the best place for a belly dress.

  “You can help me draw a happy face on it later.” She nods into the rearview mirror.

  “That’ll be a blast.” She’ll probably have me add a skull and crossbones for effect.

  My cell goes off. It’s a text from Gage.

  Hey Beautiful. Where r u?

  Headed to Dudley’s. And you? ~S

  Just got here.

  Gage and Chloe are arriving separately to the dance. The limo Lexy rented couldn’t squeeze in another body, so Gage volunteered to drive.

  There’s another text from Gage. If he touches you, I’m going to kill him. Second thought, I hope he touches you somewhere benign like the hand.

  I feel horrible. Of course, he’s going to touch me. I’ve sold my body and soul to my math teacher in exchange for Chloe repellent.

  Did you get Logan to tell you anything? ~S

  He’s not too concerned about helping us in that area. He’s an ass.

  Yes, Logan is most certainly an ass, and his ass is going to cost mine everything.

  ***

  Marshall’s house shines like a floodlight in comparison to the umber forest surrounding his property—so dank and blithe, getting sucked into its black hole seems a real possibility.

  After giving several brisk knocks, I let myself in. There’s a note on the entry table that reads, Upstairs, first door on the left. See you at the formal.

  Great. My ride just left. I attack my phone in a panic and call Brielle.

  “Hello?” A male answers.

  “Drake?”

  “Logan.”

  “Oh, never mind. I thought I was calling Brielle.”

  “Is everything OK?”

  “Yes, life is perfect, Logan.” I hack the words into the receiver. “Look, I need to find a ride. I gotta go.”

  “I’m leaving right now. I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

  “No, I’ll call Gage, or Brielle—”

  “Gage is forty minutes away. Tell you what, I’ll pick you up in your car, and you can drive it home.”

  “Deal.” I’m getting my car tonight! That’s a total diversion from the fact I’ll be deflecting Marshall later with my body.

  I tell Logan to meet me here in ten minutes as I race upstairs to get dressed.

  It’s creepy being alone in Marshall’s sprawling home. I could never live in a house this size all by myself. Thankfully, he left all the lights on, and the double doors to his bedroom are wide open.

  The bed is made impeccably. Not a sign of life in the room. It looks as though it were a prop for some sheik furniture store. Hanging from the back of his closet door is a dark silver gown with chains that hold up the top and crisscross in the back, attached is a full silver skirt, the length of which drips to the floor. It’s going to be too long. I’ll have to bunch it up and hold it all night.

  Great. Leave the important details to a man, and this is what you get. I pull it down, and my hand sags.

  It’s heavy, like real heavy. I touch the fabric and the feel of cold metal collapse in my hand.

  It’s freaking chainmail, well, most of it. I’m going to freeze.

  It’s not until after I do a quick change in Marshall’s room that I figure he’s probably got a camera pointed at me somewhere.

  I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My long flaxen hair twists in waves down my bare back. The dress clings to me, exploding at my hips like a bell.

  “Skyla?” I hear Logan calling me from below.

  “Just a second.”

  Footsteps race up the stairs as I gather my jeans and sweater. Where the hell am I supposed to put the disc? I finger the heavy object staring into the light pink stone with hypnotic fascination. Obviously Marshall didn’t think things through when he picked out my enchanted eveningwear.

  I shove it back into my jeans pocket and bundle my clothes in my arms.

  “Wow,” he pauses at the thresh hold of the door, “you look amazing.” It comes out breathless as he takes me in.

  “Yeah, well, it’s on loan.” I swish across the room, tripping over the excess that puddles around my ankles.

  “Let me help you.” He presses into the small of my back, sending a chill from the metal right through my bones.

  “Some hardware you’ve got on,” he says, as we make our way downstairs.

  “Maybe I’ll get struck by lightning, and I won’t have to keep my bargain with Dudley. Unless, of course, you know something that can help me out.” I give a hard look.

  Logan is resplendent in his dark suit, gunmetal tie bolted high at the neck. The line on the side of his face gives a sad smile before he does.

  “I can’t help you.”

  “Is it because you’re afraid you’ll go to jail? I swear I won’t tell anyone but Chloe. I’m in a lot of trouble. Look,” I grab him by the arm as we step outside in the cold frigid air. “Please help me,” I plead. “If you ever loved me, don’t send me to Marshall. That’s what you’ll be doing. I know you don’t care about my relationship with Gage.”

  He pushes his finger to his lips then softly brings it to mine.

  “What I know isn’t going to stop Chloe from trying to seduce Gage. And, believe me when I say, nobody wants to keep Dudley away from you as much as I do. But I’m not sure it would help anyway.”

  I drag my eyes over his features, cascade down his chest, then drop my gaze to his shiny black shoes.

  I tho
ught there was hope here. Deep down inside, I thought he’d save me.

  I shake my head into the night. Maybe I should forget ever having Gage to myself, just continue to live in Chloe’s demented world and see how it all plays out. It can’t be all that bad—can it?

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Winter Formal

  The Paragon Resort sparkles like a faceted stone set on black velvet. Logan lets me drive, and I sputter and pause in fits all the way there. Of course, I totally blame my atrocious driving on the dress. It’s like a workout just trying to lift my leg.

  Logan amuses me on the way over by telling me a bunch of strange crap that’s been happening to him, like the fact he wakes up to a flat tire just about daily, that his brand new kitchen at the bowling alley almost caught fire again—twice, that he keeps losing things, and the keys to his truck keep turning up in the deep end of the pool. Only, he doesn’t realize that Marshall is behind it. He openly accuses Gage.

  He takes in a deep breath and pauses as we walk over to the edge of the lot.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” A drifting fog settles around us, blows in and out of the parking lot like an unearthly pale woman wrapping herself around him.

  “I’ve got a few places to go,” Logan looks me over as though I were a meal. “I’ll be back later.”

  I dangle the keys in front of him. They shine like shards of glass under a careless moon.

  “Those can’t take me where I’m going,” he shakes his head.

  “You find someone to light drive with?” I wouldn’t put it past him, but who?

  “Maybe,” he shrugs slipping into the shadows, “save a dance for me?”

  I turn around and take in a lungful of Paragon’s vaporous breath. I wish there were some way Logan could tell me Chloe’s secret. I don’t know if I believe him when he says it wouldn’t help. I’m getting the feeling the only one who won’t help is Logan. Maybe if I ask just one more time.