He is? I do a quick survey for Demetri or Pierce or anyone who might remotely be capable of such bloodlust.
“Logan Oliver,” Nicholas Haver darts his name out like a poison arrow. “Son, it has come to my attention that you have breeched trust with the Celestra people and given your pledge to the enemy.”
A collective gasp circles the room.
“You may leave here tonight knowing full well you are no longer welcome at this or any other faction meeting that does not include your kind.” He sharpens an eye in Logan’s direction. “Boy, you see me coming your way, you had better cross the street if you know what’s good for you. I have nothing kind to say.”
“What about the war?” Someone shouts from the back of the room.
“A principality will be arriving to speak with us, in the near future. With the enemy among us I see no point in carrying on. Dismissed.”
That’s it?
The entire room booms with chatter as people gather their coats and head towards the exit. It’s like the whole meeting was held to expose the fact that Logan, well, actually Holden was nothing but an ass. No one is more aware of that than me. I could have sent a mass email and spared everyone the trouble.
Dr. Booth catches my eye from across the room and motions me over.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper to Gage and press against the flow of the crowd in an effort to get to him.
“Skyla, what’s happened to Logan?” Dr. Booth glances over my shoulder at him, full with suspicion. “I thought you said his conversion was to gain ground on the enemy, not slaughter his own people.”
“It is—was. Look, it wasn’t Logan. Logan was dead and now he’s not. It was Holden Kragger’s ghost. It was some bodily mix up when Ezrina tried to resurrect him back at the lab, only she couldn’t get it right because I spit in a Sector’s eye.”
Dr. Booth indulges in a good long blink. “Sorry I asked.”
I see Gage off in the distance talking to Logan. His blue eyes go off like high beams before retracting. His face sours at whatever it is Logan is telling him.
We make our way to the front where Dr. Booth exchanges niceties with the Olivers.
“Well, I suppose I’ll see all of you tomorrow bright and early for our collateral exchange,” Dr. Booth smiles over at them. “Logan,” he shakes his hand. “I understand the pizza business is doing you no favors these days.”
“It’s a fair trade. I don’t do it any favors either.” Logan shrugs it off like it’s no big deal.
“I have a luncheon next Thursday if you’d like the opportunity to cater the event.”
I want to kiss Dr. Booth for being so nice to Logan after Nicholas Haver all but turned him into a social pariah. Logan will be lucky he can afford a pizza after the character assassination that took place here tonight.
“I’ll pass,” Logan pats him on the back before heading outside. Gage gives a puzzled look and follows him out the door.
“Thanks anyway,” I offer.
Dr. Booth stares out curiously. “I gather he’s pretty upset over the treatment he received tonight. Either that, or it’s not Logan.” He winks. “A good business man never turns down potential revenue. See you in the morning.” He sails out the door.
Dear God—that better be Logan.
Chapter 63
Face of an Angel
Long cascades of rain, wash the streets clean. It was dry as bones for three days straight. Clearly it had set some sort of climate record here on Paragon. Her roadways had become parched, singed from the prospect of another hour without a lingual embrace from the heavy clouds flirting above.
“So where we going?” I ask Gage as we turn down towards the coast after the faction meeting. “Rockaway?” Of course, we’ll be sopping wet, but we’ll be together, and I’m totally sure Gage and I could easily figure out how to have a good time in slippery clothes.
An image of Gage in a soaking wet t-shirt, clinging to his skin, his flesh illuminating from underneath brings the naughty curve of a smile to my lips.
“Nope, not Rockaway.” All affect slides off his face as we turn towards Devil’s Peak.
That horrible scene of me making out with Logan in the Mustang crops up in my mind. What if he’s going to push me over the cliff because he’s secretly been harboring all kinds of explosive anger? What if he’s faked this whole let’s get back together thing, so he can teach me a lesson?
I shake the thought away. What am I saying? This is Gage.
Instead of driving into the parking lot, he takes the long winding road down towards the base. The waves detonate over the rocky shore, powerful as grenades. The froth rushes forward, creating a magical white expanse before retracting—the ocean singing its refrain all over again.
Gage backs the truck up in haste as far as the narrow strip of pavement will allow, revs his engine six times straight.
“What are you doing?” I’m not feeling so safe and cozy with Gage at the moment.
“See that cliff?” He points hard at the sheer granite wall set before us, tall as a building.
“Yes,” I almost want to say no just to throw him off because there’s something distinctly odd about his behavior, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“I’m going to drive us right through it.” There’s an earnest intent in his voice I’ve never heard before.
“You can’t drive us through it. All kinds of terrible things will happen—like for instance, crashing and burning.” I shout in a panic. I’d love to educate him on all things paraplegic, but at the moment my heart is stopped up in my throat.
“I have a hunch we’re going to be all right.” He depresses the gas and the truck flies forward.
I throw my hands up over my face and scream myself right into another world.
***
I’m not usually one to be particular of wherever Gage delights to take me. Nor do I make a practice of demanding where we’ll go in advance, but after tonight, I’m reconsidering both of those elements of our relationship.
A low fat moon hangs overhead. A blue tinted fog burns bright through the windshield until Gage kills the headlights.
The all-familiar looking terrain of the Transfer fills in the landscape. An entire crowd of bodies flock to the oversized vehicle, and before we know it the trunk is festooned with men and women of eras past, laughing and romping around in the back.
“Let’s get out of here,” Gage kills the ignition.
“Exactly.” I’ll save the all-important question regarding where he may have left his sanity for later. Once we ditch this vile, soul-vermin infested place, I may have to revoke his driving privileges as well.
Gage slides out of the driver’s door. In an instant he’s replaced by a man with a handlebar mustache.
I race around to the front of the truck and smack into Gage.
“What the hell?” I scream over the noise of the crowd.
“I don’t think we killed Holden,” he says, bracing me gently by the shoulders. “I don’t think that was Logan. But there’s only one way to be sure. Take me to him.”
I lead Gage through the wrought iron fence with the effigy of a screaming skull emblazoned at the crest. We hurry in through the gossamer-riddled doors of the haunted mansion and make a beeline for the suite reserved for Paragon bound transients. I give three brisk knocks and stand back as the door heaves itself into an asthma attack.
“Even Dr. Booth said he wasn’t acting like himself,” I point out. I should have grilled Logan once he came to. I should have known Holden is impossibly resilient like lice, or bed bugs, or intestinal parasites.
The door bursts open, and Logan in all of his rugged splendor stares back at us.
I lunge into him with a tight embrace. “I thought I killed you,” I whisper trying to hold back tears. Something wasn’t right about him after the drowning, and truth be told, I thought I gave him some mild form of brain defect.
“Come in,” he offers Gage a knuckle bump before closing the doo
r behind us. The living room smells like vanilla, and a plate of fresh baked cookies sit on the table. He motions for us to help ourselves.
“Expecting company?” I swipe a warm chocolate chip cookie and let it melt in my mouth like the sublime confection it is.
“I miss eating,” Logan laments. “I miss the scents—the way it could satisfy you.” He gazes outside the window into the dark velvet night, void of any emotion, lost in the subtext of his words. “But I’m glad you’re here. Don’t let them go to waste.”
“Holden is harder to kill than a cockroach,” I say, biting into the heavenly delight. “You are rocking the kitchen!” I marvel.
“Thanks,” it depresses out of him. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you guys. I thought for sure he’d fake his way through the next fifty years.”
“I’m shocked it lasted this long,” Gage says, snapping up a handful. “Holden can’t go two days without trouble. He told my parents that Skyla stole eighteen thousand dollars from the bowling alley, and now he wants a loan to help pay it back.”
I take in a sharp breath.
That bastard. No wonder Barron and Emma were all uptight when I ran into them at the meeting.
“I borrowed twenty thousand from Marshall to give to the bowling alley because he bankrupt it,” I correct, to Logan’s horror.
“Skyla,” his face bleaches out. I love how normal he looks and feels, even though he’s appalled at what’s going on. At least I can rely on the fact it’s not going to kill him. “Please, give Dudley back the money. I’d rather borrow it from my uncle than have you owe that menace anything.”
“Too late,” I shake my head, “besides, there are no physical strings attached, no promises of me giving him anything of that nature.”
“And what’s appeasing him?” Logan is intent on squeezing out the truth.
“He,” crap, I doubt this will go over well. “Marshall, might be under the false impression that he’s going to marry me someday,” I shrug it off like it’s the stupidest thing in the world because, hello? It so is.
Logan and Gage exchange somber looks, don’t say a word.
“He’s not,” I offer, but the mood remains the same.
“What makes him so sure?” Logan looks as though he’s capable of cooking up a meal with Marshall’s intestines.
“Some orator friend told him.” I shrug. It’s so ludicrous I hate spending my precious time even entertaining the idea.
“Skyla,” Gage closes his eyes, hisses out my name like a steam engine just pulling into the station. “An orator?” His brows form a perfect letter V. “He mention his name?”
“I think he said, Delphinius—something like that.”
“That’s the guy from the faction war. He was the one giving me instruction.” His gaze drifts past me. “Seems pretty accurate so far.”
“Marshall’s lying or being conned,” I’m quick to point out. “Someone’s obviously getting their wires crossed.”
The room stops up with an uncomfortable silence. Both Logan and Gage let the weight of my words crash over their shoulders.
Gage gets up and pulls me with him as we start to make our way to the door. “Take care, man.” He offers Logan a partial hug. “I still have to kick your ass when you get back. You know that, right?”
“Got it,” Logan’s face creases at the longitudinal cut I gifted him. “Looking forward to kicking some ass myself. Watch your back, bro.” He socks him in the arm before pulling me into a hug.
Gage and I make our way out of the estate. We’ll have to come up with some stellar plan on how to snuff the life out of Logan some other time because we’ve exhausted ourselves emotionally with the prospect of me marrying Dudley.
Apparently they believed him.
A lot.
Outside the main gate of the haunted mansion proper is a mass of congealed flesh, sporting the latest in petticoat fashion, odd suits that notch into butterfly bowties high at the collar.
“It’s a zoo out here, we’ll never get out,” I say.
Gage pushes through the crowd and hits the unlock button on his key remote. The truck barks, and the lights blink twice, causing everyone to commission a reflexive gasp of admiration.
Gage helps me into the passenger’s seat and climbs in over my lap to the other side. No teleportation here. I think the Transfer is where binding spirits actually go to die.
Gage starts up the engine and the whites of their haunted eyes enlarge as they freeze—petrified by the noise. He gives a few good revs, and the crowd scatters as the giant monster beneath us rouses from its slumber. He throws the truck into reverse, leans in and steals a kiss.
“Hold on,” he instructs, as we bolt backwards at ninety miles an hour.
Chapter 64
Treasures and Trinkets
After a long night of cataclysmic rain and hail, nothing more than a thin veil of fog puffs through our world this morning. Gage and I weren’t able to partake in our mystery date last night since it was well after midnight when he finally dropped me off but he promised he’d more than make up for it. He would have stayed if it weren’t for the fact he had Holden-sitting duty. I’m so pissed off at the aforementioned Kragger that if I could translate my feelings into action it might lead to a shotgun induced homicide, and even that couldn’t kill him.
I open my bedroom window and take in a breath of fresh morning air, scented thick with pomade from the pines.
“Nev!” I shout, trying to sound like a bird myself in the event Tad should hear. God knows he’s convinced of the torrid love affair I’m carrying on with a raven of all creatures—thank you very much, Ezrina.
A dark swirl descends through the atmosphere. The air parts as if it were honoring him as he lands with a gentle tap along the windowsill.
“In,” I order. It doesn’t come out half as hostile as I want it to.
He squeezes inside and hops nervously from the desk to the dresser before settling on the bed.
I place my hand on his back and warm his cool feathers.
An apology is comprised of simply words, Skyla. I cannot within good reason say that it would ever be enough, he says, adjusting his wings.
“Don’t apologize,” I sigh. “I know I should be crazy upset, and in a way I am, but if I were in your shoes and able to touch the person I loved just one more time, I would have done the same.”
You are far too kind. I want you to know I’ve taken the liberty to arrange a special treat for you.
“Really?” I’m completely intrigued.
Since I’m unable to repay you in any manner for what you’ve given me I asked Ezrina to grant you one of your greatest desires.
“My greatest desire?” My heart gives an abnormal thump. “To get you another trial and ensure this farce doesn’t repeat itself anytime soon?”
Time with your father, Nevermore cocks his head up at me.
“Oh, yes, totally my greatest desire.” I don’t mean to burst Nev’s bubble but I could light drive back to him anytime I wanted, which by the way I’m completely in the mood for.
Ezrina has arranged a meeting in the near future. Since he’s long departed to paradise he’ll be visiting from the past. I surmise you appreciate the circumstances.
“Yes. Just let me know when and I’ll get back there.”
Oh, no, my dear girl. I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood. Nev twitches foot to foot. I’ve made arrangement for him to come to you.
There’s a knock at the door. Mom shouts for me to get downstairs.
“I gotta go.” It’s the day of the not so great garage sale. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. Like here, here?”
Yes, here, here. Paragon.
“He’ll need a supervising spirit then,” I surmise.
Sector Marshall has volunteered as a temporary.
“Marshall?” I jump at the thought. “I’m totally going to kiss him when I see him. Not really, but you know,” I say, escorting Nevermore back out the window.
I can’t believe this!
My dream really is going to come true.
My father is finally coming to Paragon.
***
Drake and Ethan load up the Mustang with an army of junk that couldn’t fit in the minivan just before I take off. It was bad enough driving without blind spots at every spare angle, but the fact I’m functioning with almost zero visibility at the moment actually explains why I’ve manage to receive twice as many honks and finger salutes than usual.
Gage and Holden both have their trucks parked along the side of the road so I sandwich between them. I just sit there thinking of the irony, when a dark shadow falls over the windshield. I look up to see Nev circling the vicinity. I almost wish I could’ve had Ezrina arrange for me to go back to the night of the accident. Even though I’m certain that Chloe took the wheel of the Mustang, I still feel like I need to see it for myself. Maybe Marshall would be willing to supervise me as a temp and circumvent that binding spirit? I think he owes me as much as Ezrina, probably more. If he doesn’t want to lose his ‘future wife’ before he somehow miraculously acquires her, he should consider obeying my every whim—starting now.
A pale figure in the woods catches my eye. It disappears quick as it came, like a ray of hope when really there is none. Only this doesn’t feel too hopeful, it feels evil with the patina of something sinister. It coats me from the inside, renews a fear in me only my darkest nightmares are able to produce.
I bolt out of the car and smack right into a body.
“Skyla,” Gage backs up and smiles that infectious grin.
“I’m so glad it’s you!” I stop short of letting him in on the fact I think I just saw a Fem. No point in ruining a perfectly good day with what might have just been a pale, frumpy, patron from the scrap and salvage having a seriously bad hair day.
Gage helps me drag most of the junk from the car and schlep it over to the table that Mom and Tad occupy with a strange assortment of material trappings from their past.
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