“I need you to breathe, Skyla.” Gage tucks a kiss into my neck as he swims us over to the steps. I settle in his lap as we stare back at the house, to the disaster zone that already told me so much more than Logan or Gage have offered up.
“I need you, too.” I lay my head against his shoulder and look up at him. I like it like this with his warm, strong arms around me, his love encapsulating me like a membrane. “What was the fight about?”
“That’s Logan’s deal.” His jaw pops as he expands his chest. Gage softens into me. He runs his hand under my chin and lifts me gently. “It’s senior day tomorrow.”
“The last day before winter break.” I bite down on my lower lip. It’s technically a senior ditch day, but the squad has to perform at lunch then again in the evening at the rally. “Tell me you’re coming to class. I’d hate for it to be just Marshall and me.”
Gage averts his eyes a moment.
“I’m not,” he whispers. “In fact, I’m heading to Host tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be back in a few days. It’s a football thing—coach wants to see me in action.”
“I want to go.” A flare of grief spikes through me at the thought of Gage leaving. He’s making it sound as if it’s no big deal, but every sentence feels like a chasm expanding between us.
“You’ll be busy.” He cuts a look across the pool, and I can’t tell if he’s pissed or not. “Do what you have to do, Skyla.” He cups the sides of my face. “It’s OK. I already know what happens.” His eyes drift to each of mine. “I love you. I’ll love you always and forever.” He tips his forehead into mine but evades the kiss my lips were willing to give him. “Nothing changes between us. You’ll always be special to me.” Gage glides his arms down and tightens his grip around my waist.
Something happened here tonight—something far more spectacular in scale than a few pieces of broken furniture—something more than just a fistfight. This was life or death playing out—an act of submission and defiance. Another war had taken place, this time between brothers. Another war with another unknown outcome. But in this war, there will never be a winner, just a circle of broken hearts.
“Are things going to change?” I ask, lingering my gaze over his beautiful face.
“Everything changes.”
Everything changes. I nod into the idea. A part of me is damn happy everything is going to change, and yet a part of me would rather be buried right there next to Logan. Either way we lose.
***
The next day at school sucks. Generally the last day before any type of break feels more like a formality, but the fact it’s also a senior ditch day doesn’t help the cause. Too bad Chloe chained us to the spirit rally at lunch, or I would have slept in and watched TV all day like everybody else. Instead, I hang out in my desperately under-populated classes. Both Logan and Gage don’t bother to show. I know where Gage is, but I can’t even get Logan to return my text messages.
After school, and the rather unnecessary cheer practice Chloe mandated, I head home to grab a bite to eat before heading back. I might swing by the bowling alley and beg Logan to come to the rally tonight. West feels so horrifically lonely without an Oliver in sight.
The Landon house is blanketed with the early evening haze. The peach glow from inside shines like a jewel set against the dark evergreens that shroud the property.
I head in and make my way to the kitchen where I find a sea of grocery bags filled to the brim—a tower of cereal boxes are stacked on their side at least as tall as I am. Mom and Tad huddle in the corner, all giddy, examining a three-foot long receipt while Mia and Melissa have been relegated to the task of putting things away.
“What’s all this?” I ask, making my way to the fridge.
“This, my friend”—Tad waves his hands over the post market mayhem—“is the result of your mother’s hard work.”
“We saved six-hundred and forty-nine dollars!” She shrieks as if she had just won the lottery, and I guess, in a way, she did.
“Really? How?”
“Double coupons.” Mom’s eyes glow like a woman possessed.
“Yeah, but we can’t use half this junk.” Melissa isn’t shy to let us in on her assessment of the goods. “Powdered milk? This stuff tastes like crap.”
“And fourteen cans of potted meat?” Mia winces into the tiny blue cans.
“Times are tough,” Tad belts it out like a battle cry. “Food doesn’t grow on trees you know.”
The good stuff does, but I’m not in the mood to correct him while he’s so jolly and light. It’s clear Mom racked up some serious points with him today.
“Strangest thing happened this morning.” Mom shakes her head. “Someone”—she leans in and whispers—“paid off the rent at the Gas Lab until August of next year!” She cuts a secretive look to Tad as if either he didn’t know, or it was a point of contention.
“Must be nice to have Fems in high places—or should I say with big bank accounts?”
She shrugs me off and gets back to the business of unpacking cans of mystery meat.
“Whoa!” Drake comes in and nearly falls on his ass once he spies the ode to sugared corn flakes.
“That’s right, son,” Tad says, creating a mountain out of bags of pork rinds.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Drake rips one open and proceeds to pop a few chunks of pig skin in his mouth. “We’re finally going to eat some real food in this house.”
Mia makes a face at Melissa. “Let’s get ready.”
“Where are you guys headed?” I ask, snapping a water bottle out of the fridge.
They exchange a nervous look.
“Movies.” Mia is quick with the lie. “Double feature.”
“Yeah right.” I lean in. “Spill it, or I’ll notify the hickey police.”
“Count ritual.” She blows it in my face. “There! You happy?”
“No, I’m not happy.” I’m also not sure how to stop this runaway train. “What’s on the sacrifice agenda tonight, a couple of vulnerable virgins?” I give them each a stern look.
“It’s the Slaughter of Plenty.” Mia rolls her eyes as if I should have known the Counts were running a far more sophisticated slaughter ring than just a couple of measly virgins. It sounds like the entire island is in danger.
“No,” Melissa corrects. “It’s the Ceremony of Kisses.”
Mia slaps her in the gut, and they both go rigid.
“The ceremony of what?” Swear to God, if Holden has been taking advantage of my sisters in any way, I’m going to pluck his balls off and stuff them down his throat.
“It’s nothing.” Mia grabs her accomplice in inter-angelic crime and heads for the stairs.
“Darn right it’s nothing,” I whisper before turning to Mom. “Did you hear that?” I hiss while she pulls can after can of cat food out of a bag. “Wait…do we have a cat?”
“No, but it’s just as good as dog food. Don’t you think? We can’t play around anymore.” She rounds her hand over her stomach. “Desperate times are upon us.”
“Speaking of desperate, Mia and Melissa are off to some Count sponsored kissing booth. I trust you’ll stop them.”
“Kissing booth?” She racks her brain as if trying to remember if she was scheduled to partake in the smooch-fest, sans the look of horror I was hoping for. God knows what perversion those creatures are dragging my mother and sisters into.
I turn to head upstairs.
“Skyla?”
“Yes?”
“I know you’re disappointed in how I’ve managed your inheritance,” she whispers while shooting Tad the evil eye. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Her swollen belly campaigns for my attention, and I can’t help but feel sorry for her. After all, she is saddled with Tad.
“I don’t want you to stress about it.” I bite down over my lip. “Just out of curiosity, how much money was there?”
“Between you and Mia, about seventy-five thousand.”
I gasp so loud Tad l
ooks up from his mound of pig skin.
Ethan walks into the room, and I speed upstairs before I do something necessary like lobbing cans of cat food at him and his father. And at the rate Mom and Tad are mismanaging our funds, we’ll be eating cat food.
***
A strange glow emits from the seam beneath my door. For a second I envision Chloe with her finger in the socket, but I’m not that lucky. I slip open the door and find my favorite Sector lying on my bed. I guess I’m luckier than I thought.
“What brings you here?” I ask, locking the door behind me. The last thing I need is Mia and Melissa finding my math teacher snug on my mattress while I’m trying to convey good morals and high standards.
“Your mother.”
“Really?” I jump at the thought. “Can we see her now?” Our last meeting was cut off rather abruptly by those pesky assholes I’m busy trying to defeat.
Marshall sits up with his skin lit up with a gentle phosphorescent glimmer, his features made even more cutthroat by the unearthly glow.
“She’s opting for a surprise visit.”
“I have the senior rally tonight. I can’t just get zapped off the field.”
“It works much like the war, Skyla.” His shoulders sag as he stares at the birdcage, despondent.
“You said my name.”
“And you find this noteworthy?” He doesn’t remove his emotionally-depleted gaze from the caged rat.
“Because it’s rare.” I take a seat beside him. “What’s got you all bitter and blue?”
“I defer to my first response.”
“Figures. She has a way of ruining lives.” My hand flies to my lips. “Is she…” I can’t even finish the question. I bet she’s getting ready to damn him to a life of fire and brimstone. “I wish to God there were a way to get Chloe to hand over that pendant.”
“Have you enjoyed the fowl I’ve gifted you?” It came out a little more angry than it did inquisitive.
“I swear that thing hates me, but thank you. It nearly clawed out Chloe’s eyeballs which just goes to show how wise owls really are.”
“Skyla.” He blows it out with disappointment.
“What?”
“Must I draw you a roadmap?”
Snowball lets out a series of howling screams, and Marshall nods into it as if he understood every word.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell her.” He reverts back to me. “Touch the damn bird, Skyla.”
I take a breath and hold it as I trot on over.
“Holy shit!” A laugh bubbles from me. “Who are you?” I ask, opening the cage and extending my hand inside. The tiny winged creature lands over my bare arm, and a warm oozing sensation trickles down my wrist. “Not funny.” I shoo it away and wipe myself clean with a tissue.
“Back.” Marshall reprimands the creature, and it hops onto my desk where I lay my hand over its head.
“Speak,” I say, not amused at all by its elimination practices.
I’m not really digging the wings. So if you don’t mind, drop a brick on my head. This cage is no paradise.
I withdraw my hand a moment. “It wants me to drop a brick on its head.”
“She’s yours until her demise, Skyla. Do as you see fit.” Marshall motions for me to continue listening to the suicidal creature. “All the details,” Marshall snaps at the pile of feathers. “We’ve places to go this evening.”
I rest my hand over its back. “Who are you?”
Maybe I’ll tell you after you do a few things for me, like stop feeding me shitty seeds morning, noon, and night—throw a mouse in the cage once in a while, would you? Dye my feathers black while you’re at it, and I demand a recount on the ridiculous name.
“Mice, black feathers, and a new name. Got it.” I dart Marshall a look because it’s all his fault I’m in hostage negotiations with a bird. “Look, I’ve got a senior rally to get to. So instead of wasting my time with your laundry list of complaints and impotent blackmail, just spill what it is you have to say. I promise you all of the aforementioned bullshit if you get right to the freaking point. Do I know you?”
Does the name Emerson Kragger ring a bell?
“Emerson!”
I give Marshall an open-mouth smile.
Best. Gift. Ever.
***
On my way to West, I make a U-turn and head over to the bowling alley instead. Logan’s ride is parked alongside the building just as I suspected, but the closed sign sits prominent in the window, and the lights are off on the outdoor signage.
“Weird,” I whisper. It’s not like Logan to ignore my text messages, and it’s definitely not like Logan to close the bowling alley on a Friday night.
I walk to the entrance and find the door unlocked. I pass the blinking lights of the arcade, and take in the scent of stale popcorn while scanning the place for one of my favorite angels. I’m dying to tell him about Emerson. Just having all this great news bottled up inside makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs. She just proved Chloe is the idiot I always knew she could be, and I can’t wait to shout the news on the rooftops of every freaking house on Paragon.
A familiar flame of blond hair darts around in the kitchen, so I speed on over.
“Who do I have to sleep with to get some service around here?” I say it sultry as I come up behind him. And, dear God, do I ever mean every word. Logan looks brutally handsome, the drop your panties, get on your knees and beg him to ravage you, kind of attractive that you only see in magazines or in the Oliver home.
Logan pauses from his task of scrubbing pizza pans and wipes his hands.
“You shouldn’t say stuff like that.” He rakes his eyes over me, sullen, just like Marshall was earlier.
“Relax, I’m teasing.” I’m not sure I like Logan shutting me down like that. “You know”—I step into him and pull him in by the lip of his jeans—“it hurts to think you wouldn’t want me like that.”
“That’s not what I said.” A dull smile rides over him. He’s mercilessly provoking me with the curve of his lips.
“So, what were you and Gage fighting about last night? He said it was up to you to tell me.” I can feel my blood boiling just beneath the surface. “I’m getting kind of tired of you keeping things from me.” Our eyes latch onto one another. I don’t know why I went there, but a part of me needs to.
“I never kept anything from you to hurt you.” It comes out soft, broken. He takes in a breath. “I think you should get back together with Gage. You guys are probably a better fit.” He turns and starts filing baking sheets into the slotted cabinet down below.
My body seizes. My throat dries out, and I’m finding it hard to take the very next breath. I waited too long to decide who I wanted to be with, and now he’s choosing for me. Logan always was a problem solver.
“I think we’re a pretty good fit.” My voice trembles as if I might cry, and my anger increases tenfold because of my body’s willingness to show all my cards.
He glances over at me and pulls a bleak smile before picking up a dishrag and wiping down the counters.
“Would you stop?” I snatch him by the wrist and pull him in.
Logan drops the rag and flexes his hands in surrender.
I swallow hard. “What’s this ‘be with Gage’ bullshit? What if I want to be with Logan?” My heart thumps wild in my chest. An argument wasn’t exactly what I envisioned when I got out of the car.
“Skyla.” His expression dims. His brows pinch with pain. “I don’t think you can ever be with me.”
“But what about the visions?”
“I don’t know what they meant.” His anguish increases. “I could have been in a treble or visiting from paradise. All I know is that I’m not the one for you.” His eyes search my features frantically as if an alternate answer resided somewhere on my face. “He is.”
“That’s not true.” I spit it out so fast I almost believe it.
“A treble can’t last forever.” His eyes close a moment. “I talked t
o your mother last week.”
A horrible tremor jolts through me. The concept of Logan speaking to my mother makes me shiver with fear.
“Is this what you and Gage fought about?” I don’t need him to answer. I already know it’s true. “What did she say?”
Logan pulls me in by the waist with his long face, those sad eyes. His hands ride up my cheer sweater and warm over my back.
“Skyla, you’re just wasting your time with me,” he pushes it out despondent. “I’ll be the last person to toy with your heart.”
“You’re toying with it now whether you like it or not. I want to be with you.” I run my hand down his chest. I’m not discounting anything Gage and I had or might have in the future, but Logan has a very real part of me and always will. I want Logan in the worst way possible especially now that my mother is about to swing another sickle in his direction. I don’t know who to hate more, my mother or Chloe.
“Hate no one.” He rubs my bare back. Logan’s dimple pulls in and out as he flexes the briefest of smiles. “You have all of my heart, all of me, and I will love you into the depths of eternity.”
Gage’s poem wafts through my mind like the breeze from a closing casket.
“No.” I shake my head. “We’re going to get our happily ever after, just you wait and see.”
Logan doesn’t say a word, just stares into me with defeat.
“Shit.” I throw his arms off me in a fit of disgust. “Thanks a hell of a lot for giving up on us.”
I speed out of the bowling alley without looking back.
I don’t know what the hell my mother said to eviscerate him of all hope, but I’m about to prove her wrong.
“You hear that, Mother?” I shout up into the icy night. “I’m about to show the entire universe that you are a fucking liar!”
A sizzle of lightning crackles through the sky and the back windshield of the Mustang blows out like candy from a piñata.
Elysian Page 44
