Elysian

by Addison Moore

  “You just saw me two hours ago,” I smile up at him. Spending the night in Logan’s arms was pure bliss, a topic I’ll be sure to avoid once I see Gage.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Logan says, walking me through the entry. “You could leave the room, and I’d miss you.”

  I inspect him like this, his forlorn smile, the glimmer of pain locked in those sunset-colored eyes. His words are laced with far too much grief for this early hour, and it fills me with a sense of dread over what he might truly mean by I missed you.

  We head into the family room where Emma and Barron are seated with Giselle. I look across on the opposite couch, and there he is—Gage. He looks heartbreakingly gorgeous, his neck wrapped in white gauze as if he were simply wearing a turtleneck.

  “Gage!” I run over, and he rises to meet me. He circles his arms around my waist and peppers my face with kisses in a rather brazen, passionate show of affection.

  I never thought I’d see you again. He winces as he says it.

  “Are you OK?”

  “I’ve got a mean sore throat.” He presses out a dry smile, and his dimples explode as if they were greeting me all on their own.

  “Don’t talk,” I plead.

  “The doctor says its fine,” Emma says it stern, layered with attitude geared at yours truly, no doubt. “His vocal cords weren’t harmed.”

  “Chloe came by last night,” Gage whispers. His features harden when he says her name—as they should, she tried to kill him.

  “What?” I glance back at Emma and Barron, his self-imposed bodyguards.

  “I couldn’t sleep on that chair.” Emma shakes her head defensively. Her hair is spun up in its signature chignon, and her lips are smeared with that same orange cream she thinks suites her best.

  “I saw no danger.” Barron looks to Gage. “What happened?”

  “She rambled out an apology.” He pulls me onto the couch and continues to secure his arms around my waist as if we were still together. “She said something about saving Ellis and how she’s going to make things right for us,” he rasps. “That we’ll be together just like we were destined to be all along.”

  A huff of laughter streams from me. Chloe and Gage will never happen, not in any universe, in any carnation. She’s a daydream believer all right, the worst kind because she’s not afraid to slit our throats to prove it.

  “Sounds like the war did nothing to shake her delusions,” I say.

  Giselle sits up indignant by what her brother just revealed. “Did you remind her she tried to kill you? That she did kill Logan? That girl is a beast. She belongs in a cage. Do her parents know the vile creature they’re raising?” Just seeing Giselle riled up is a treat. She’s actually brought more life to Emerson Kragger’s body than it had when Emerson herself was occupying its feminine frame.

  “The Bishop’s are clueless.” Logan sighs before reverting his attention back to Gage. “What else did she do?”

  I wouldn’t put it past Chloe to try and get down and dirty with Gage while he was convalescing from the injury she inflicted. She’s stupid and twisted that way.

  “She crawled right up in bed with me until I gave her a good shove. I believe her parting words were, ‘you’ll pay for never loving me.’”

  “Sounds like a country song.” I shrug. The truth is I don’t give a rat’s ass who does and doesn’t love Chloe Bishop. “Senior year starts tomorrow.” I give a gentle squeeze to his ribcage. “We only have one more year of tolerating her, and then we’re free.” I don’t believe it for a minute, but I like the pretense.

  Gage shoots a look to his parents that could melt ice.

  “Skyla?” Emma clears her throat. “I believe I owe you a severe apology.”

  Logan clued me in on the drama that went on. Gage pulls me in, filled with remorse.

  “No, it’s OK.” I shake my head. “It was a horrible thing that happened, and, ultimately, it was because of me.”

  “Not, so.” Barron dips his chin. “Skyla, we were under a great deal of stress.”

  “Just cut to the chase.” Gage rasps it out a little louder than necessary.

  Barron glares over at his only son a moment before recomposing himself and acquiescing with nod. “So sorry, Skyla. You’re every bit a member of this family. Forgive our behavior. It was without excuse.”

  “And on that note”—Giselle stretches her arms to the ceiling as if to distract us from the topic at hand—“school starts tomorrow. It’s my first day.” She bites down on a smile.

  Considering she was killed at three, it’s her first day of school ever. I hope she’s got enough of Emerson’s brain left intact to get her through junior year.

  “We need to shop.” Emma jumps to her feet and ushers Giselle out of the room in a flurry.

  “Excuse me”—Barron rises—“I’ve a mountain of work waiting for me at the morgue. Congratulations on attaining your goals in the faction war.” He tips his head. “I hope the outcome is in your favor.” He leaves the room, quiet as a whisper.

  I look to Logan and Gage seated by my side, and a shroud of guilt looks as if it’s coating them from the inside. The Olivers are most certainly keeping secrets from me. Gage knows something. Logan has been acting strange since we’ve returned to Paragon. I’m pretty sure neither one of them is about to pony up with the vital information I’m looking for.

  “I need to run up and take a shower.” Gage smolders into me like he’s just sent an invitation to join him. “Come to my room.” He ticks his head toward the stairs and pulls me up to my feet.

  Logan cuts us a sharp look as we stride past him.

  A month ago Logan wouldn’t have blinked if this scenario played out, but the rules have changed, hell the entire game has changed. We’re onto the championships, and it’s time to put an end to all this madness.

  I wish it were over.

  I don’t like this one bit.

  ***

  Gage’s bedroom is clean and neat, immaculate to the point of military precision, and a part of me wonders if Emma’s a bigger part of this equation than I give her credit for.

  Gage showers while I lie over his bed, taking in the scent of his pillow, sweet and comforting. I wonder what it would be like in a world with just Gage and me, no one else to lay hold over my hormones on the side. I think it’s becoming painfully clear that I could never cut either Logan or Gage out of my life entirely, and already I know Marshall will never leave. It’s funny how Marshall, my newly named spirit-spouse, has settled into the fabric of my life, and I’ve accepted him, perhaps more so than either of the Olivers that vie for my attention. Marshall just feels like family, like he’s already a part of me.

  The pipes squeal and twist as the water shuts off, and a moment later Gage steps out in a vat of steam with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

  “All dressed up and nowhere to go?” I tease, propping myself on my elbow to afford a better look. Gage is cut to precision with striations that ripple across his abdomen, strong as steel.

  “Oh, I’ve got somewhere to go,” he says it low, most definitely seductive, and a mild panic surges in me.

  Gage swoops in and lands beside me on the bed with dew from the shower still beading over his chest. He beams a wicked smile that lets me know it’s game on and Logan had better watch his pretty boy back. Gage is in it to win it, and I’m not sure how much fortitude I have to stave either one of them off.

  A strong knock emanates from the door, and Logan steps inside without waiting for an invite.

  I sit up so fast I knock into the headboard and set off a clatter.

  Logan openly glares at his underdressed nephew. “You don’t waste any time.” He flat lines, pulling out the chair from the desk and taking a seat as if he were settling in to watch the show.

  “What?” Gage reaches over and slinks on a T-shirt. He jumps into a pair of sweats so fast the towel drops to the floor rather ingloriously.

  “You said something last night that made me think.” L
ogan nods over to me. “Something about the pendant.”

  “Yes. You told me to get it. You were emphatic that now was the time.”

  “That’s what we have to do.” Logan presses into me with his gaze. “Sooner than later, we need to secure that pendant.”

  “Why now? What’s the rush?” It’s been in Chloe’s possession the entire livelong year she’s been resurrected.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t have the answer, but I know someone who might.”

  “Marshall?” For some reason, whenever I need a solution, a savior, Marshall pops to mind. A warm tingle envelops me as if he had heard and sent his approval.

  “No.” Logan is less than impressed with my go-to answer. “My grandmother.” A smile digs into his cheek. “I think we should go back and talk to her. I’ve been wanting to for a while now, and I think this is a good time.”

  Logan’s grandmother. I think about this for a moment, Logan has been less than enthused about light driving right from the beginning. He did take me to meet his parents once.

  “I’m in,” I say.

  “Me, too.” Gage glides an arm around my shoulder.

  “Just Skyla and me.” Logan never wavers his gaze from mine.

  “Whatever,” Gage gravels it out. The row of x’s on his neck move and wiggle as a show of his disapproval.

  “Speaking of Skyla and me,” Logan gives a slow blink. “How are we going to do this? I see you one week, he sees you the next?”

  Shit. This is the exact conversation I was hoping to avoid, like forever.

  “Um…” I swallow hard unsure of what’s about to pop out of my mouth next. “I’m thinking we hang out as friends, and maybe now and again we go on dates.”

  Gage sweeps his gaze over the bed. He looks as if he’s lost the race before it ever began. “How long do you think you’ll need?” His brows dip as he chews the inside of his cheek.

  I know what he’s thinking, what they’re both probably thinking. They’re afraid I’ll drag this out for a small eternity, and one year will turn into two, and soon we’ll be locked in some strange three-way union that will ultimately lead to some seriously bad reality TV or a felony. Well, maybe that’s not what they’re thinking, that’s what I’m thinking.

  “Dude,” Logan reprimands. “Give her some space. Take all the time you need, Skyla. It’s only senior year. We’ve got the rest of our lives.”

  Gage shoots a death stare over at him, and the two of them battle it out with nary a blink.

  “I, for one”—Gage reverts his attention to me—“don’t want to miss a second with you. I know this isn’t going to be easy. I know that deep down inside you don’t want to break anybody’s heart. But I beg of you, if you know the answer, don’t put it off just to spare someone’s feelings—not even if they’re mine.”

  A breath gets trapped in my throat. How can Gage say that when all of his visions point to us in the end? Then again, Logan had his fair share of assurance as well in that department. I guess it really is up to me to decide.

  “OK,” I whisper. “We’ll date, and I’ll make a decision. As soon as my heart is sure, I’ll let you know.”

  I bounce a glance between the two of them.

  One thing I know for sure, I will never willingly choose between Logan and Gage.

  6

  School, the Devil’s Tool

  Monday, the sun peers through the expanse over Paragon before veiling itself with a vat of fat, cumulous clouds, blue in nature like the Counts themselves.

  I stare out the kitchen window as I wait for my bagel to pop out of the toaster.

  “First day of school!” Mia shouts as if there were a shoe sale at the mall.

  Drake grunts into his cereal. “Let’s see if you whoop it up next Monday when it’s just another start to a shitty week.”

  “Watch your tongue.” Mom shields the baby from his father’s insanity. Speaking of Drake and fatherhood, I swear I’ve yet to see him manhandle the poor baby Count. Not that Beau is going unloved. Mom has her faux nipple locked and loaded and ready to blow fresh pumped breast milk from an undisclosed supplier.

  “Tongue?” Drake sits up with a faraway look in his eye. “That reminds me, I’m thinking about a piercing.” He nods with the spoon stuck in his mouth.

  I’m pretty sure another hole in his head isn’t going to do him any good.

  “What in the world for?” Mom says it curt like a body ornament is where she draws the line. I can tell she’s not up for any more goofy Landon shenanigans—like selling air or breathing it.

  “Yeah.” Drake nods into his indecision. “Emily says she likes guys with piercings.”

  “Who?” Mom looks blindsided by Drake’s love life. I swear some days I think he lets a mood ring decide. Hey. Maybe I should try that?

  “That chick that was here yesterday.” He orients her to the carnal rotation of his mattress. “We’re sort of going out.”

  “Oh?” Mom’s voice rises unnaturally. “So what about Brielle? Did you break things off with her?”

  Mom’s worried that Drake is unaware of the breakup etiquette required once you part ways with your baby mama. She smells a custody battle in the works, and it’s her that’s going to be on the losing end of that legal stick, otherwise known as the gavel.

  “I’m sort of seeing them both,” he drones on. “Bree doesn’t care about the tongue ring. She’s good either way.” He heads for the stairs, and I block him off at the pass.

  “Do not pierce your tongue.” I want to add, you’re a Landon, things like this never end well. I can totally see a tongue-ectomy in his future when it turns all black from the impending infection. “If Em’s so hot on piercing something, get a nipple ring.” Did I just encourage Drake to pierce his man teat before breakfast? For sure not how I envisioned starting off senior year.

  “Mind your own business.” He ducks past me. “Get your own damn nipples pierced.”

  I shake my head trying to evict all memory of the conversation out of my mind.

  “So.” Mom tilts her head. “Senior year. Are you excited?”

  “Yes,” I say it slow and drawn out to match her tone. “Are you excited to get two of your five children out of the house?” God knows Ethan isn’t going anywhere.

  She shakes her head. “Guess what?”

  “You offed Tad, and you need me to hide the body?” I’m a bit shocked that the words made it past my lips, but I’ve already discussed nipple rings with Drake, so I go with it.

  “No.” She gives several hard blinks. “Demetri is having a Halloween party, and he’s asked me to take care of his arrangements.”

  She says, “take care of his arrangements” as if it were code for something sexual. And, eww, because it probably so is.

  “Like what? Detail the place with dead bodies?” Again we’re back to Tad, and perhaps Drake and Ethan, too.

  “No, Skyla.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s just a job. After Mr. Dudley’s masquerade ball, word has got around town. I’m an official event planner now.”

  I stare at my mother an inordinate amount of time.

  “First, the ‘ball’ was two days ago. Second, you are aware that there were quasi casualties involved at last weekend’s soirée—that someone tried to play a game of Off with His Head with my sweet boyfriend, Gage?” My stomach pinches tight when I say it because, technically, he’s not my boyfriend anymore.

  See? Right there is the reason I should never have broken up with him. We’re not together for five minutes, and Chloe tries to decapitate him. I’m really getting sick of her headless schoolgirl games. It’s becoming painfully obvious it’s Chloe who needs her head cut off at the root.

  “I talked to Emma.” She shakes her head. “Apparently he got caught on a branch. I’ll admit there was something to be desired about the outdoor lighting, but I’m keeping a notebook of all the details, so I won’t miss any next time.”

  I can’t believe my mother believes her misstep in party planning nearly cost
me my boyfriend’s head.

  “Be sure to add a ‘no Bishops’ clause,” I say. “Because that wasn’t a branch that nearly lopped of his head, it was Chloe.”

  “What about Chloe?” Tad walks in, hobbling on a sawed off broomstick that doubles as a cane.

  “What happened?” I ask, completely intrigued by his sudden geriatric condition.

  “All that commotion last night sent me running for the hills, then that math teacher of yours tripped me.”

  Score one for Marshall.

  “Oh,” Mom balks. “He did not. How many times have I told you not to run while looking over your shoulder. It’s not safe.”

  “I saw him stick his leg out, Lizbeth.” Tad contests my mother’s disbelief with a hostile fervor.

  A tiny smile flickers on my lips because, on this occasion, I’m prone to believing Tad.

  Mom averts her gaze once more before reverting her attention to me.

  “Would you do me a favor and drive the girls to school? My stomach’s been upset all morning.”

  “Sure. Hope you feel better.” I head for the stairs, and she catches me by the elbow.

  “One more thing.” She glances over at Tad who’s busying himself in the kitchen. “Congratulations.” She gives a secret smile. “Demetri mentioned you won the war.”

  I open my mouth ready to unleash an entire litany of expletives against my father’s killer then close it.

  “It’s yet to be determined if I won, but thank you.” I mouth that last part.

  “In my heart I know you’ve won.” She reaches up and secures my hair behind my ear. I can feel all of the love pouring from her, strong and viral like never before. “You and Gage are going to live a very long and peaceful life together. I can feel it.”

  I offer a depleted smile.

  “I hope so.”

  And every part of me truly does.

  ***

  Mia and Melissa are decked out to the nines with their mismatched Converse, their day-glow sweaters and lace thigh-highs. I’m positive Mom did not approve of these outfits because miniskirts that short qualify more as an accessory rather than an article of clothing.