“Kiss me,” I say, trying to smile through the pain. I let him reel me in as if this were all a wicked game, foreplay of a maniacal nature. He seals his lips over mine, and I pull us under gentle as a dream. If I didn’t know prior to this that Logan’s body was hijacked by an imposter, I would sure as hell know now. These may be Logan’s lips but they are miles away from being his kisses. This is the bite of a python, the deadly infliction of some disease being dispensed with his wandering tongue. It reminds me powerfully of that night at the falls when I came across Holden in his proper form before digging my fingers into his neck, killing him the first time.
It takes all of my Celestra strength to wrestle Holden to the bottom of the river, pin him down with my body and lay over him like a stone. I remove my lips from his mouth, disgusted by the thought of Holden Kragger impaling me with his lust. Without meaning to I open my eyes, watch the bubbles blow out of Holden’s mouth, his eyes ready to eject themselves from their sockets from the strain of holding his breath. He jerks and squirms, almost launches me off but I hone in my anger and render his muscular arms useless.
His face pinches in agony. And then he gives. Holden gulps down water, inhales long clean strokes like fresh spring air. I would have sold him for silver, done anything possible never to live this moment.
My lungs constrict. I choke trying to hold my breath another second. Holden goes limp beneath me. In the event he’s bluffing I conduct my own reflex analysis by reaching down and wrenching his balls so tight Logan may never succeed at procreation. But Holden doesn’t flinch. I pop to the surface unstoppable, take in a gasp of air so sharp it sears my lungs like fire.
Gage jumps in, dives down to the bottom without me having to say a word.
I pant and groan from the pain, as I make my way towards shore. I would never have been able to carry out that feat if Marshall hadn’t taught me how to push past the pain, believe that I could linger just a little while longer. I guess in the end Marshall helped bring back Logan after all.
Gage tosses Logan up on the grass, limp and rubbery. He pushes him onto his side and Logan spills water from his lips like vomit.
“Shit,” Gage rolls him on his back and pushes the palms of his hands under his diaphragm.
I crawl over and seal my mouth over Logan’s, push in a series of steady deep breaths until I feel him jerk.
“Come back to me,” I whisper. “It’s over. He’s gone. You and me, we’re going to win this faction war, remember?” I try to coax him back into his body, wake him up so I can dislodge the idea that I may have inadvertently caused him brain damage.
Logan sits up and engages in the world’s most violent coughing spree.
“You’re back,” I cry.
Logan nods, looks from me to Gage and pushes out a weak smile. “I’m back.”
“Skyla?” Gage pulls me in, looks right into my eyes.
“It’s me, I swear,” I wrap my arms around Gage so tight I never want to let go. “We’re both back and everything is the way it should be.”
Chapter 58
War Drums
My mother and I stare at one another in her cabin that reeks of Tad’s grocery store patchouli cologne. Clearly, we are at an impasse.
“You were cheating on Gage,” she rages.
“Not really.” This is only slightly more awkward than it has to be since both Gage and Tad hover beside us.
“You were kissing!” She brings her hands up over her forehead in frustration. “For God’s sake, I hope that’s all you were doing.”
“I bet she’s finally managed to knock herself up,” Tad announces. “Let the record show I’m not giving another damn dime to that clinic in Seattle,” he saws through the room with his winded bellow.
“Fine,” I say.
“Fine?” My mother balks. “Is that all you have to say for yourself? Fine?”
“She’s probably trying to get pregnant,” Tad snarks. “She’s jealous over all the attention Drake has drummed up for himself.”
“Not true.” Let the record show I’d be thrilled with zero attention from either Mom or Tad. In fact, I’d be more than pleased if I wasn’t realistically the only female in the room with any reproductive relevance. If Tad finally managed to knock up my mother, it would probably reduce the incidence of these kinds of conversations to nil.
“I think you owe everyone in the room an apology,” Mom sags, fatigued from the confrontation all together.
“I apologize for my actions,” I’m quick to admit. “It won’t happen again, I swear.” Like, ever, because I killed the bastard. Although technically it was Nev fondling my body, and speaking of which, I have one serious fucking bone to pick with him. “Um,” I turn to face Gage. “I owe you the biggest apology of all,” I really mean it. “Will you ever forgive me for the countless messes I’ve dragged us into?”
Gage raises his brows, amused. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”
***
Gage. The ways he saves me are incalculable.
We walk into the woods—weave through ancient Hemlocks with trunks so fat you could park a car in them.
His left hand is heavily bandaged.
“What happened?” I pick it up gently and bring it to my cheek.
“Grazed myself with a nail gun renovating a cabin. And here I thought carpentry was going to be my thing.” He pushes his shoulder into mine.
I notice one of the discs protruding from his side pocket, and I’m relieved to see it.
“Is that a disc in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” I laugh because I screw it up and accidentally pronounce disc as dick.
“All of the above.” He gives a sultry smile and pulls me down to the ground.
We lay side by side in a clearing, on a bed of fragrant pine needles, soft as a pillow.
Gage traces the outline of my jaw. His eyes never waver from mine.
“I missed you,” he breathes. His finger traipses along the outer edge of my lips, dips into my mouth and he kisses the tip before dotting my nose with it. “Are you OK? Did he hurt you?”
I can read between the lines. I know what he’s really asking. I had explained what had happened between Ezrina and Nev as brief as possible before my mother’s detainment.
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. Deep down inside I don’t think that was Nevermore’s intent. I can hardly blame Ezrina who was so parched, so thirsty. You could see Nev filling in the cracks of her existence, rehydrating her soul with his hands kneading over her hips. It would have been beautiful if it didn’t involve my body—Logan of all people on the receiving end. It was a love song in the making just watching her shake her hair out for him.
“Skyla.” Gage kisses me with my name still on his lips. “I am jealous for you.”
His words swim through me. My spirit soars to hear that curious phrase.
I take him in with a sigh before he depresses over me, loves me with a quiet sadness. He sends his heated kisses rushing up and down my neck rabid and hungry.
I can hear the beating of our hearts, they escalate in sound, deafen my senses. The ground quakes beneath us.
I open my eyes just as the world fades to nothing.
***
The scenery appears, a deep umber sky, a world dipped in sepia. The sound of a thousand helicopters flying overhead bombard our senses.
“We need to find the orator,” Gage screams over the intense walloping that bullets through the atmosphere.
Ellis appears, covers his ears as he runs over.
“I got a lead,” Ellis shouts. His eyes are lost in crimson tracks, glazed over with an oily haze.
“You’re stoned,” I say, disappointed.
“You were back with Gage,” he shrugs.
“Are you selling to Gabriel Armistead?” I forget about the war long enough to inject myself into Mia’s wellbeing.
“No,” he gives a hard look. “I wouldn’t give it. He got it someplace else. I know that for a fact.”
Great. No
w I have Mia and Melissa’s recreational drug use to police, not to mention the fact this Armistead kid has a standing date with the penitentiary at some point in the future. Obviously he’s going to drag my sisters down. He’s a lunatic, and once Mia and Melissa catch on, I’m sure there will be restraining orders involved. They’ll be lucky if they get out of this three-way relationship without gunfire and homicide.
Speaking of gunfire, we follow Ellis over to a wheat-covered hillside, the blonde shafts move in a slow lethargic rhythm, cheering us on.
Ellis kicks at a mound of hay before reaching in and extracting a crossbow, same one Marshall taught me how to use.
My hair swirls wild as the wind stirs up in a violent rage.
“There he is,” Gage points over to a group of men interlinked in a huddle, the orator stretches above them by three heads at least. “Stay here.” Gage takes off in his direction.
Ellis retrieves a bow and quiver for each of us. The arrows spill—they rain over the splinters of hay, disheveled and impotent.
“Shit!” he cries out in anguish, his left arm still locked in a cast.
“Let me,” I gather them quick as possible until we have a handful in each canister. I sling one over Ellis’ shoulder just as something slaps his jaw in the opposite direction and sprays the air with blood from his mouth.
I turn in time to see Chloe brimming with pride, a wrist rocket dangling from her hand. She missed my temple by less than a centimeter.
Ellis drops his head to his knees before surging with a pissed off look on his face.
Chloe.
I can’t recall if it was my mother or my father who told me that if you die in the ethereal plane you stay that way.
I swipe an arrow from over my shoulder, bend over and hoist up the crossbow.
An arrow. That’s how Chloe Bishop will die. Not some mirror that fulfills psychotic wishes. I’ll be damned if I ever let her crawl into her fantasy and have her way with Gage as a means to rid her from this world. Not on my fucking watch.
She pulls back her sling already loaded and ready to go. She heaves with a malevolent smile, shakes a shock of necrotic hair out of her eyes with laughter.
“Skyla!” Gage resonates through the incessant drumming.
It all happens so fast, two deadly weapons slicing through the air, whispering as they pass in the night. I drop to my knees only to find a stone staring me in the face.
The world quakes and trembles, reduces to nothing as the night is swallowed up in thunder.
Gage—he tossed the disc into the field and everything freezes.
Region three is over.
We lost.
Chapter 59
Trip the Lights Fantastic
The next day, the All State competition is strange to say the least.
I look into the rows of endless faces set up on the bleachers. I scour the crowd with an intense scrutiny before our final routine and see Logan and Gage staring back at me, my mother next to them with blue and white pom poms in her hand cheering from the stands.
Chloe and I have chosen to ignore the fact we almost offed each other last night and join forces to initiate what just might have been one of the most kick ass performances of both our acrobatic, heel stomping careers.
Ellis isn’t here—already I know that. Ellis might be suffering from a slight hairline fracture along his mandible, so Tad volunteered to escort him back to Paragon where his mother has a specialist flying in to assess whether or not they’ll need to wire shut his jaw. I imagine that might temper the pot runs for a good long while.
The music cues up and Chloe and I jump and shout in unison in our final foray as inseparable cheer peers. We start in on the pair’s section of the routine, smile our red painted grins at one another as if we were sisters. There’s something haunting, almost erotic about the deception we’re attempting to pass off on the judges. Chloe swings her hips in my direction, grabs my wrists and slides me down between her legs, and I pop right back up.
Don’t wreck this, she says just before letting go.
It’s the basket toss that has her riled up. Everything else in the routine is gingerbread.
The girls form a tight circle, Chloe, Nat, Emily, Lexy, and a crystalline-eyed Michelle. Here I am in the arms of my enemies. Each one might benefit in the event I suffer an unfortunate accident—watch with great interest as my head explodes like a melon against the bright yellow floor.
I hesitate just a moment, long enough to see my mother standing, roaring for my triumph. I growl in the face of my adversaries as I bounce hard onto their interlocked hands.
I fly—soar up so high that hitting the ceiling of the gymnasium feels like a very real possibility. I peak just shy of grazing an enormous wood beam that stretches across the structure, point my toes hard as I lean over and touch them in perfect formation. Gravity comes like a thief, pulls me down with its lead laden arms. I have to trust those who wait for me—trust them to spare me from certain death.
I zero in on Gage and Logan as I plummet through the air. I want their perfect faces to be the last thing I see if I never come to.
A hard wallop commences as I land hard in the hands of the bitch squad. Chloe helps me to my feet with the same hand she tried to kill me with in the ethereal plane just hours before.
“If I didn’t hate you so much, I’d love you,” she blows into my ear.
The crowd erupts in a violent storm of cheers.
I nod into Chloe’s twisted line of thinking, acknowledging the fact this is the closest form of affection we could ever share.
We take our seats along the front row of the bleachers and wait for the judges to tally their final marks.
“You were freaking amazing!” Brielle pounces on me with a hug. “You’re an acrobat, a bird or something!”
She plunks down next to me and takes up my hand. “You know, Skyla, since you risked your neck for West, I’m going to campaign like crazy to get you nominated for prom queen.”
“I’m not a senior.” I rock into her.
“Junior prom.” She rocks back. “But I think that performance was enough to justify the throne for two years. Speaking of performances…” She gives me that I-know-what-you-did-in-the-boathouse look.
“It was an accident—case of mistaken identity.”
“I would say that I didn’t believe you,” she ticks her head to the side, “but I swear I’ve had that happen.” She gives a quick glance over her shoulder before leaning in. “So, how was it?”
“I wouldn’t know,” like, really, I wouldn’t know.
“Oh, so that’s how you’re going to play it? I get it. I mean you’re back with Gage, right?”
“I’m just with Gage. I’ll be with Gage forever.”
The microphone at the front of the gym gives a high-pitched wail before adjusting.
Marshall comes over and sits by my side.
“Ms. Messenger,” he says.
A representative from the judge’s panel steps up to the podium. A skinny blonde who chooses to wear a visor when we are neither outside nor in the land of sunshine, clears her throat.
“The Best in Choreography Trophy goes to,” she gives a dramatic pause. “West Paragon High!”
We exchange high fives, well, Brielle, Marshall and me. The only other team member who would offer me a high five is Ms. Richards and she’s all the way on the other end.
“The best all-around routine goes to, again, West Paragon High!” Her voice takes a serious upturn into Carly Foster territory.
Another round of high fives, this time Emily makes an effort to slap some skin with me.
“The winner of the basket toss, is, no surprise here,” she pauses to leer out into the crowd until she stumbles upon my face. “West Paragon High!”
Brielle and I jump up with excitement. From the top of the bleachers I can see Mom making her way down the stands, frantic and screaming like she’s just been knifed. She lunges at me with tears as I take in her warm embrace.
“And the winner of the All State competition goes to, let’s see if you can guess?” The judge teases. “West Paragon High. Come on down, girls!”
“Holy shit!” Chloe bounces up. “And we did all that with Messenger on our team?”
The rest of the girls run off to the front of the gym.
There’s a look of hurt in Mom’s eyes after Chloe fired off her latest and greatest barb.
“Don’t worry,” I assure her. “This is as good as her life gets. I have everything else.” I look up at Gage and Logan and give a private smile.
“Go get your trophy, Skyla.” Mom presses a kiss into my cheek. “You earned it.”
Brielle and I walk up together.
The crowd rises to their feet and erupts in riotous applause. Chloe glitters like a fire under the limelight of her victory.
Well done, Ms. Messenger. Marshall nods in my direction. Let’s see if we can put any of those highflying skills to use in the faction war. The Fems have already requested I equip you with more discs. They’ve dubbed them, victory coins.
I pull my lips into a bleak line. He knows full well I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for that last disc.
From the corner of my eye a pale swollen man catches my attention. A tuft of flaming hair shoots in the air a good six inches. His face is greased with thick pancake paste, and an apple red grin is painted over his flesh.
A clown.
He sits alone in the corner at the top of the bleachers, vacuums out all of the joy from this moment.
Yes, Skyla, Marshall tips his head into his chest. You’ve managed to call him to you.
“Shit,” I hiss under my breath.
Worse yet? Marshall darts his gaze around the vicinity. Rumor has it—he’s brought friends.
Chapter 60
Home visit
I see them everywhere.
There was one on the ferry on the way back to Paragon even though Gage swore up and down he couldn’t see him. One at the edge of the parking lot at school today, and another in the woods behind my house that I spotted from the kitchen window. Clowns—tragically demonic jesters—horrific and scary, crying their silent bloody tears.
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