Elysian

by Addison Moore

  “I’ll catch you later, dude.” Ellis socks Logan in the arm. “Hey, try to stick around until homecoming. I’m having a killer after-party.”

  “Will do, man.” Logan socks him right back.

  And here we are, just Logan, Gage, and me standing in the middle of death, trying to ignore the stench clotting up our lungs.

  Gage nods toward the stairs. “I’ll head up and give you a chance to talk.”

  “No, it’s OK.” Logan gives a forlorn smile in my direction. He turns to Gage. “Make sure she gets home safe. Maybe you can teleport back.” It comes out hoarse.

  “Where are you going?” My voice trembles as I stammer out the words.

  “I’ve got someone to see.” His dimple inverts. “Dudley.” He reaches up and caresses my cheek. “No more secrets.”

  I clasp onto his hand and kiss it. “No more secrets.”

  We watch as Logan takes off—the front door opens and closes quiet as a whisper.

  Gage comes over and holds me.

  We don’t say a single word.

  The tears say everything for us.

  27

  Heartbreak in Acres

  Gage and I drive back to the Landon house in the Mustang. It’s funny how I sort of feel like Logan is here with us, like he’s around me as certain as this caged steel. I see him in the fog as a ghost, in the trees as they sway in the wind, in the sky as the haze clears in patches.

  I park high on the driveway behind the minivan, and Gage pulls me in, blinking us both to the butterfly room.

  It’s dark, unnaturally dark, and a part of me likes it this way.

  “You want me to turn on the light?” he whispers, still holding me secure in his strong embrace.

  “It’ll be too bright.”

  “How about this?” Gage taps the wall, and the butterflies illuminate a brilliant shade of cobalt, the exact color of his eyes.

  “How did you do that?” I wrap my arms around him and pull him down to the pile of pillows I have amassed.

  “It’s a Levatio thing.” His dimples depress as the blue hue washes over him. It takes all of the color out of our world and replaces it with a beautiful sense of calm.

  “You’re getting stronger.” I brush my finger over the high ridge of his cheek.

  “Maybe,” he whispers, pulling me in close until our stomachs touch.

  I give a hard sniff into his neck. “I have to talk to my mother about Logan.”

  “Skyla.” He breathes my name right into my ear. “And if nothing changes?”

  “It will.”

  “I won’t fight you on that.” He pulls back with a sad smile. “In fact, I want you to spend all the time you need with him.” Gage glances down and shakes his head.

  I can tell he’s holding back the tears—battling Logan and his death until he wishes it would just go away because I happen to feel the same. How dare he die on us. How dare he not survive. It’s my mother’s head that really deserves to roll in all this madness, right along with Chloe’s.

  “We’ll both spend time with him.”

  “No, not like that.” He presses the words out labored, each one born of pain. “Just be with Logan until we can get all this figured out, and if we can’t…” He lets out a pressured breath. “If this is all the time he has left, at least you had that with him.”

  Gage paints a crystal clear picture. No more quasi-dating, no more debating over who I’ll choose—just spend my days with Logan right up until the end. And, sadly for Gage, I’m in agreement.

  “Then after”—Gage drills into me with those steel high beams—“if you choose to be with Dudley…I’ll find the fattest rope, the highest bow, and hang myself.” He gives a dull laugh.

  “Oh, Gage.” I pull him in and latch onto him with a death grip. “You won’t be hanging yourself anytime soon—ever in fact, I promise.”

  “One last kiss.” Gage leans in and presses his lips to mine, chaste and innocent, but I can feel the volcanic lust ripping off his body in an intense burst of heat.

  Gage is sacrificing for Logan. It’s ironic in a way since Logan gave me up this time last year and placed me under Gage’s wing for safekeeping.

  A world without Logan filters through my mind—the emptiness I’ll feel at the bowling alley, the blank space in his bedroom, driving the lonely streets of Paragon knowing I can never find him, never touch him, never see that resplendent smile. It’s as if a thousand nails have bore into my flesh at once, and I’m crushed under the heavy weight of this insurmountable pain.

  I bury my face in Gage’s chest and buck and writhe in a wash of tears that go on all night long as the butterflies glow around us.

  ***

  At school the next day, a plume of powder-white fog blinds us as we make our way to class. Gage spent the night, holding me in his arms, strong and solid like the boulders off Pike’s Reef.

  I spot Drake walking past the gym as the overgrown painting of Cerberus lingers behind his shoulder, watchful, filled with anticipation, ready to pounce as if something in the vicinity were unsettling.

  “I’ll catch you in class.” I offer Gage a brief hug.

  “What are you up to?” His dimples flex because he knows me all too well.

  “Drake and I have some business to discuss.” I make a face. “He knocked up Em, and Bree is heartbroken.”

  “Ouch.” His eyes expand and retract. “Got it. I’ll see you in class.” He pulls me in a little longer than usual, and I soak up the lingering hug.

  “You saved me last night,” I whisper.

  “You always save me, Skyla.” Gage leans back and strokes the hair from my eyes. “I promise I will take care of you for the rest of our lives.” He swallows hard. “But I really care about Logan, and I know you do, too.” He shakes his head. “I want you to have this time with him.”

  “I’m going to get him out of this mess.” I blink away the tears as the icy wind sears across my face.

  “I’m going to get him out of this mess,” Gage says it sharp. His features harden as if he’s already aware of how he’s going to do this.

  “OK. We both will.”

  A dull laugh rattles from his chest as the bell goes off.

  “Hurry up, or I’ll worry about you.”

  “Got it.” I give a quick wink and trot off to catch up with Drake.

  “Drake,” I call out. He’s got his hair slicked back, annunciating the sharp V of his widow’s peak, his face as pale as the fog.

  “What’s the deal? I’m going to be late.”

  “What’s the deal with you and Emily?”

  “News gets around fast.” He gives a dull smile.

  “Is this something you really wanted?” It takes everything in me not to grab ahold of his shirt and shake the shit out of him.

  “I didn’t ask to fall for two different girls, Skyla. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody not even you. And, by the way, you’re sort of my fearless leader in this arena, so I would hold off on casting the first stone.” He looks more than mildly perturbed at the thought.

  I let out a sigh of defeat. I had an entire spiel set to go on how rotten he’s making Brielle feel, and now he’s all but muzzled me with that whole glass house thing. “You’re right.” I slap a hand over his shoulder. “I totally led us into dumbass territory. Sorry about that. So you really care about them equally? ‘Cause I’m kind of rooting for Bree.”

  He shrugs. “I’m kind of rooting for Bree, too. But don’t say anything. I’m just on overload right now and need to get my mind wrapped around this whole fucking thing. I swear I was using protection, so I’m not totally sure what happened.”

  I shrug. “I’m no sexpert, but maybe she did a little needlework with that stack of rubbers you were using. Anyway she seems oddly psyched about the whole thing.”

  “Yeah, well, Em’s got a screwed up home life. She mentioned once she’d never treat her kid the way her parents treat her. Do me a favor. Don’t say anything to the fam just yet. We’re planning a spec
ial announcement. Maybe Thanksgiving.”

  “That’ll take our minds off Mom’s cooking.” I start to take off.

  “Hey, you going to the Gas Lab today?”

  “Nope.”

  “You should. We had a packed house yesterday, and they all said they’d be back.”

  “How’d you pull that off?” Or more to the point, what exactly are they letting the masses inhale to make poor innocent people want to repeat the experience?

  “Everything’s free—just the very first month. You know, goodwill to the neighborhood to drum up some business.”

  “Free? You’re going to be out of business the very first month. You can’t give things away. You have rent to pay!” Even I know that basic bit of business 101. Free equals broke.

  “If you think you can do it so much better, be my guest.” He jogs off toward the gym just as the warning bell rings.

  Great, I have less than thirty seconds to sprint to class.

  If I take a shortcut through the woods, it’ll land me over by the science building in half the time.

  Free. I shake my head at the idiocracy running amuck with my inheritance. I’ll have to ask Logan to sit all of the airheads down and teach them a thing or two about making a dollar. Starting with, perhaps, charging a dollar.

  The forest lining the periphery of West has a quiet calm about it. A silver fog takes over, blessing it in an otherworldly haze. The air feels cooler here, more refreshing. Gone is the hustle and bustle of the student body, the noise, the screams of laughter. I don’t want laughter anymore in this world, not until I get this whole thing straightened out with Logan. My mother has another thing coming if she thinks I’m going to sit on my hands until she calls me on deck. Although, knowing my mother, she’ll blame me for hastening Logan’s final demise before she takes him off the planet just to spite me.

  I step out further between the long, slender eucalyptus trees as their leafy tendrils drag in the wind. A girl sways in the distance, a tall shadow of a man just above her.

  Chloe. I recognize that demon anywhere. Her hair swirls in the breeze, it billows and puffs above her head as if it’s trying to sail her into the air like a weather balloon.

  I come in quietly from the left and linger behind the round trunk of a noble. A male voice belts out a wicked laugh, and I can already see that it’s Demetri.

  Figures.

  The bell rings in the distance, and Chloe straightens her shoulders. Her body language grows more animated by the second. They murmur into one another, and I hear Chloe say my name, clear as a bell.

  “I will,” she says before taking off toward campus.

  She will, what?

  Demetri speeds his way in my direction, evaporating into the fog just feet away from me.

  “Skyla,” he says my name before vanishing, quick as a vapor.

  I bolt off to class.

  The only thing I know that Chloe is about to do is hand over that damn pendant.

  ***

  I tiptoe into chemistry more than a few minutes late, trying to control my labored breathing as I make my way to my desk.

  “Ms. Messenger,” Marshall growls. “How kind of you to join us.” The sarcastic drawl he’s lent to his obnoxiously sexy voice clues me in on the fact I’d better buckle my seatbelt, this is going to be a bumpy ride.

  I take my seat, sandwiched between Logan and Gage, and busy myself by plucking out my notebook.

  “Is that how you respond to a greeting?” Marshall takes a seat on the edge of his desk, and his lips curl upwards because we both know he’s going to drag this out, turn it into some sort of sexual spectator sport that will have me mentally begging for mercy. “I don’t appreciate being scorned by my students. Let’s have you step outside, and we can try this again.” He lifts his chin and waits for me to leap up and obey his every command. “This instant.”

  Marshall sits luminous, sublime, any girl in her right mind would obey his orders if he shouted them out—with the exception of me of course.

  “Skyla.” He ticks his head back a notch, and this catches me off guard. I don’t remember the last time Marshall used my proper name at West. It feels weird, intrusive, and perhaps the teeniest bit arousing.

  “May I help you?” It comes out curt, warns him we’re about to tread on algae-riddled rocks, and in a moment one of us will end up with a nasty bruised ego—my money is on the Sector.

  “Out the door with you young lady and right back in.” He fans a stack of papers in his hand before offering them to Lexy to pass out to the class.

  Logan turns around with his eyes reduced to slits. “What the fuck is his deal?”

  “I don’t know,” I huff, speeding out the door and walking back in.

  “Ms. Messenger. How kind of you to join us.” Marshall’s cheek twitches as if he were ready to bark out a laugh.

  “Why thank you, Mr. Dudley.” I give a little curtsey. “I’m so very honored to be in your presence. Gee, I wish you could teach all of my classes.” Lex hands me a paper, and I fan myself with it on the way back to my desk. “I bet you’d make a real nice private tutor, too.” I smear it with all of the sexual intention I can just to goad him a little for trying to humiliate me—although, in all reality, I’ve most likely just propagated our standing as “teacher-student” couple of the year.

  A circle of laughter makes its rounds, and I feel vindicated for being forced to play Marshall’s little game of jump through the hoops. A preview of his antics in the bedroom, I’m sure.

  A loud bang emits from the front, and I snap my gaze toward him only to find he’s slammed his bloated teacher’s edition onto the floor.

  Instant silence fills the air.

  “One more time.” He bears into me with his lewd sense of pleasure. “Out and in.”

  Out and in. I shoot him a seething look.

  Gage taps me on the shoulder. “You want me to kick his ass?”

  “No. I can handle Dudley.” I smile over at the commander-in-chief and stride out the door.

  A blonde girl with a familiar round face stands before me. Her hair is cut to her shoulders, and she wears a sad but sociable smile. Where do I know that face?

  “Hello Skyla,” she whispers before evaporating to nothing.

  Kate!

  I dart back into class with my entire body numb from shock. My mouth hangs open as I look over at Marshall.

  Did you see the surprise? His brows twitch as if that were his intention all along.

  “Yes,” I pant completely blown away with what just happened. “Thank you,” I whisper, but it’s quiet as death, and the entire class seems mesmerized by our twisted exchange.

  He rests his chin on his hand and gives a solemn blink.

  “Go out again, Ms. Messenger. Once more. Let’s get this right.”

  This time I speed out the door, ready and willing to give Kate a big ole hug, but it’s not Kate waiting for me in the hall. Instead, I find a woman with kinky black hair, pale skin, dressed like a pirate. At first glance she sort of looks like Emily.

  “Are you looking for someone?” God, it’s probably Em’s twisted mother. It would figure she’d come to school dressed like a buccaneer. It’s no wonder Em is twelve kinds of creepy.

  “I’m looking for you, Skyla.” Her face elongates unnaturally, and she begins to stretch like taffy. “My name is Stella Landon. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Her dark eyes pierce through me like lead bullets.

  Stella Landon? As in Tad’s dead wife?

  My body quakes, my fingers tremble as I reach for her.

  “The hour is near to avenge my death.” She begins to evaporate. “Small window. Think sharply. Running out of time.” She dissipates to nothing, and I swat the air in search of her.

  I lean in the class and hook my finger in Marshall’s direction until he joins me in the hall.

  “Exhilarating exchange, Ms. Messenger. One we must replicate—”

  “I know, in the bedroom.” I avert my eyes to the ceiling.<
br />
  “I was going to say fifth period, but I find your idea much more appealing.” He pierces me with a sexual leer that suggests I’m right on track.

  “What’s with the reprisal of the dead?”

  “Stella demanded your attention. She’s been after me for weeks. Your mother allowed it.”

  “And Kate?” I mouth her name. It feels sacrilegious to be even thinking about her at West.

  He twists his head into class before reverting to me.

  “Your classmates, one in particular, has a dreadful plan involving you and a corpse.”

  “Chloe.” I shudder. “So what’s with Kate?”

  “She’ll be available should you need her services Friday night.” He pumps a dry smile. “And you will.” Marshall turns to head back inside, and I latch onto his elbow.

  “I miss you.” Everything in me begged to say it. “And please tell that battle-ax that runs the skyway that I demand to see her.” I have a feeling Stella Landon was cryptically right. We are most definitely running out of time.

  A raucous peal of thunder erupts. An explosion belts out from down the hall, and Marshall lands his body over mine, pressing me into a row of lockers. We glance over and find a sea of sparkling glass. The window at the distal end of the hall has shattered with all of the pandemonium falling shards can afford.

  The halls fill with anxious bodies as we inspect the storm railing in through the newly formed orifice of the building.

  Looks like the battle-ax heard. Be on alert, Ms. Messenger. Marshall nods as he heads back into class. She will see you soon.

  ***

  The storm passes as quickly as it came, leaving us with the requisite fogbank by the time sixth period rolls around. Ms. Richards hands the reins and megaphone to Chloe who glows in her element. She runs us ragged, has us shake and bake until our extremities beg to fall off in the process.

  “OK, gather ‘round!” She barks with the intensity of a Doberman trying to stave off an intruder, which is fitting. We’re all intruders in Chloe’s world. She’d like nothing more than for the entire lot of us, namely me, to move permanently out of her way. “Thursday night,” she pants, shooting a quick glance behind her shoulder at Ms. Richards. “Everyone know what the plan is?” She pans us with a wicked intensity. “Emerson, you’ll ride out with Skyla and me.”