“Whose are these?” I place down a pair of clunky skis that had embedded themselves in my backseat.
“Those were your father’s,” Mom examines them before making a face.
“Dad used to ski?” How can I not know this about my own father?
“Long time ago—when you were little. We used to steal day trips to the mountains, but life got busy.” She slaps a bright orange sticker on them that reads, $20.
“Excuse me,” I say, indignant. “You can’t just sell Dad’s stuff.” I pick the sticker off and shove the skis over to Gage.
“These skis are way too big for you,” he kindly informs me. I gape up at the audacity that both he and his dimples have in siding with my mother.
“That’s not the point,” I say.
“Skyla, I’m getting rid of junk.” My mother is nonplussed by my inherent sense of panic to preserve all things daddy. “Your father would have wanted me to get rid of them. Tad and I are keeping the important stuff and that’s all that matters.”
Dear God. Now would be a lousy time for my father to step onto Paragon. I can imagine his shock when he finds his personal belongings spread out unwanted with bright orange stickers advertising the fact he’s been heavily discounted.
“I’m keeping the skis,” I take them from Gage and lay them under the table.
“Fine,” Tad doesn’t bother looking up from aggregating his dead wife’s belongings out into long neat rows. “Find another place to store them, would you? They’re not welcome back at the house.”
I look over to Mom horrified but she nods in agreement while arranging old picture frames and long stem wineglasses.
Gage pulls me in and pecks a quiet kiss on my cheek. “You can keep them at my house. I have a shed out back, but if you prefer them in my room I wouldn’t mind that either.” He suppresses a grin that veils the fact he thinks I’m sweetly insane.
I take him in under the bright illumination of a haze free day. Gage is impeccable—gorgeous both inside and out.
“Thank you,” I say, pressing the ring he gave me to my lips then placing it over to his. Gage gives it a quick kiss before flashing his dimples at me. I love having Gage on my side—and, I plan on having him by my side every single day. Our forever has already started and it feels like heaven.
“My dad thought of a way,” he nods back into the swelling crowd at Holden, “to take care of our little problem.”
I look just in time to see him stretching his arms over some girl from East that I’ve never seen before.
“It can’t come soon enough,” I say. “What’s the plan?”
“You’re going to kill Logan at prom.”
Chapter 65
Silver and God
A wash of unfamiliar light trickles down from the atmosphere, enough to actually produce a glare in my eyes from the once-fabled orb otherwise known as the sun. I don’t know how I stopped packing my sunglasses in my purse after doing so every single day in L.A., but on Paragon they are about as practical as a chariot on the freeway.
“I can’t kill Logan again,” I say to Gage as we hold hands, making our way through the endless tables of crap lining Marshall’s expansive property. I refuse to entertain the idea of clobbering Logan into kingdom come at prom or any other venue for that matter. I’ve tried and failed at Cain River, and I don’t have any plans of repeating the effort.
“It makes sense,” he picks up an old leather catcher’s mitt and tries it on before replacing it. “If me or my dad do it, Chloe might blackmail us, but she’s already at a draw with you, so it won’t change things too much.”
“Apparently, I’m not really good at offing people,” I shoot a look over at Holden who took the liberty to kill eighty-nine Celestra with Logan’s own hand. That alone is reason enough for me to reverse my stance and want to succeed at the mission.
“This will be foolproof.” Gage wraps his arms around my waist and slips a depleted smile. “I’ll be there with you.”
“Of course you will. You’ll be my date.” Just the thought of actually attending a formal event with Gage and not having to hide the fact we’re together is thrilling. We could douse each other with passionate kisses right in the middle of the dance floor, and there’s not a damn thing Chloe can do about it.
He shakes his head. “You need to get Holden to go with you. That’s part of the plan.”
“What?” I jump in disbelief. “Have I mentioned how much I hate this?”
Marshall’s voice rises above the chatter in the crowd.
“Let’s go see what he’s pushing,” I pull him along, hoping Marshall’s trinkets will take my mind off bashing Holden’s skull in with my high heel.
“Boxes of lead,” Gage whispers. “I’m still sore from lugging whatever was in those cartons.”
“I’ll give you a massage later,” I offer. “And bake you some cookies.” I’ll be the best girlfriend in the world if it kills me, not that it would ever kill me to cater to Gage.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
We break through the crowd that has amassed in front of Marshall’s table and maneuver our way to the front. Hoards of people struggle to grab and ogle his questionable wares. Almost every person in the vicinity has migrated over. I bet in eagerness to discard his junk he’s drastically underpriced everything, just like my mother.
I take in a sharp breath at the sight.
“Oh, my, God!” I whisper, looking to Gage for some sort of explanation.
Hundreds if not a thousand of gorgeous pewter trinkets lay strewn across the table. I watch in horror as dozens of foreign hands fondle and paw his haunted ironwork at a frenetic pace.
Gage and I make our way around to the other side to have a talk with our cagey Sector friend.
“Young Oliver,” Marshall straightens in exhaustion, “I bid you to momentarily take over the reaping of finances so I may have a quick word with Ms. Messenger.”
“A brief word,” Gage glares into him. “Only words.”
Marshall speeds me over to the periphery of the melee while keeping an eye on the treasures being haphazardly mined by the unsuspecting population.
“Did you make all those?” I have a feeling I totally know the answer.
“Every last bit,” there’s a touch of boastfulness in his tone. “I’ve also handcrafted an impressive pair of champagne flutes to toast our nuptials when the time arrives.”
“Fascinating.” In all honesty, I’m giving less and less thought to Marshall and his delusions of grandeur regarding our conjugal union. I’m totally convinced it’s some celestial prank that his so-called prognosticating consort who goes by the frat-induced nickname of ‘the orator’ has decided to pull. “So what gives with the lustrous alloy arrangement? You’ve got a supervising spirit in each one?” Which is a nice segue to my next request.
“There’s a vestige of wickedness cloaking the island.” Marshall slits his eyes in either direction as if said vestige of wickedness was on the prowl for a flea market find. “This is merely a strategy to contain its ill effects.”
“So—what? They’re like vacuums?”
“They’re a weaker version of a protective hedge. Place enough of these around the vicinity and the odds of the region becoming impregnated with evil ills decreases significantly. They’re not to be worshiped or glorified, simply a spiritual air freshener if you will.”
“In that case I’ll take twenty.”
“I’ll have over thirty delivered to your room before tomorrow’s witching hour,” he purrs.
A white shadow moves along the border of the woods just north of the estate.
“Bright out today.” I shield my hand over my eyes, trying to focus in on whatever seems to be vying for my attention. I have a feeling I’ll be needing a little more than a spiritual air freshener.
Marshall waves his hand and without delay the sky darkens, inciting a shallow gasp from the crowd.
“You’re powerful I’ll give you that.” I fatten up his ego for the
kill. “Rumor has it you’ll be acting as a supervising spirit for my father.”
“Some rumors are true,” he glares into the crowd. “Note and highlight the fact I am not the purveyor of this affliction. Ezrina and her featherheaded Romeo concocted the idea. Be warned—they are prone to bad ones.”
“Are you kidding? My father coming to Paragon is a dream. I’d have to disagree with you, they’re prone to great ideas—brilliant even.”
“Very well.” He flexes his cheek in disapproval. “You are aware Ezrina is growing most impatient for her trial,” he takes in a breath, expands his chest the size of a wall, “And, knowing full well she won’t get one, she’s in the process of creating manuals to assist you once you take over her job in the gallows.”
“Crap.”
“You must implore your mother, Skyla. It’s the only way.”
“Help me,” I plead. “Make this entire Ezrina situation go away and—”
“And what?” His eyes slit over me. He doesn’t move a muscle in the event I renege the offer faster than I make it.
“Just help, please?” My chest heaves involuntarily—a serious warning bell for an onslaught of tears.
“When you decided to defile my vision with your lingual emissions,” he pauses to frown, “I delicately removed myself from your dealings. I gave my word I would be of no assistance. Though, admittedly, my reaction was in haste, I cannot go against my word.”
“How about getting Logan back in the right body? You have to help with that.” In a fit of anger I’ve managed to ruin everything. This is impossible to rectify without Marshall and he knows it.
“I’ll see what I can manage.”
“Thank you!” I swell with relief. I might get permanent duty as Ezrina’s body double, but at least Logan will still have a chance at life.
“Allow me to relieve Jock Strap of his duties. Sales have slumped since I’ve stepped away, and I’ve no one to blame but him.”
“Wait,” I pull him back by the hand. “I was hoping you could do a little something for me.” I bite down on my lower lip. “I want to go back to the night of the accident and see who was driving the car. I mean obviously it was Chloe, but I want to see it with my own two eyes.”
“I can’t be your supervising spirit, Skyla—conflict of interest and all those good legalities.” He takes a step in the opposite direction. “Although, I will say this, a person only has access to one binding spirit. Devise a manner to fool Ms. Bishop into sending her binding spirit elsewhere. If it does belong to her, once she releases the spirit you’ll be able to travel back and see the carnage unfold from the vantage point you’re seeking.”
“You are a genius!” I stagger the words out in awe.
“A phrase I’m looking forward to hearing you repeat many, many, times in the confines of our chamber.” He gives a crooked smile before sifting back into the crowd.
Yeah, like that will ever happen.
It won’t—will it?
Chapter 66
Evil Incarnate
“Do you realize he just raked in an even grand while you two were talking?” Gage latches onto me with those intense eyes the same hue as the bottom of the ocean, and I systematically forget everything else. “So what did he want?” There’s a marked irritation in his voice.
“He says,” I pull Gage away from Marshall’s table and the roving ears that surround it, “they’re some kind of protective hedges. He says Paragon is being infiltrated with evil.”
“Speaking of evil,” Gage nods to the other end of the mass of humanity, “let’s see what Demetri’s doling out of his bag of tricks.”
“And to think my mother helped him load up his possessions, emphasis on possess. I bet that’s not all she was helping him do.”
“I just don’t think she’s into him like that,” Gage gives a dissatisfied blink. “She seems pretty devoted to Tad.”
“I hope you’re right. As far as I know the mock wedding is still on.”
We head over to Demetri’s table. I can hear his pretentious voice cackling through the crowd, cajoling the innocent patrons of Paragon right out of their last dollar.
“You guys selling?” Ellis pops up, blocking the path to our final destination.
“I wouldn’t go around posing that question if I were you.” Gage secures his hand over mine. We should let Ellis in on our plan to off Holden. We might need all the help we can get.
I gasp at the thought. Poor Logan. I know it’s him we’re trying to protect—bring back, but still, I can’t help feel like we’re ganging up on him. Holden does a magnificent job of screwing everything up.
“Sure,” I acquiesce. “ How’s your jaw?” I ask Ellis, noting the fact he’s moving it just fine and there’s nary a sign of a wire.
“Lucky for Bishop, it’s excellent.” Ellis glowers, obviously still pissed at Chloe for the rock to the face.
Pierce and Nat stand off in the distance, talking to Demetri and a tall albino looking man with vacant eyes.
“Arson Kragger,” Gage makes a face, “I’m not sure if he’s aware of the fact he’s got another son roaming around the island.”
“We’re going to need Marshall,” I look up at Gage. There is no way I’m even risking another vagrant spirit jumping into Logan’s skin.
“Who’s Marshall?” Ellis says before doing a double take at Nat and the crowd of Counts.
“Dudley,” I say, following Ellis’ gaze to see what’s harnessed his attention.
Another man, tall, with familiar looking features, steps over to Demetri, and they clasp hands. Demetri pulls him into a manly embrace before patting his back, speaking with him as if he hasn’t seen him in ages. Demetri ignites the conversation with his moronic verbal rantings, and the crowd lights up with laughter.
“Who the hell is that guy?” I ask. I’m pretty sure anyone who’s kindred spirits with Demetri and Arson Kragger is an enemy of mine.
Ellis hardens, freezes for a moment before relaxing into a sigh.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” his voice dips into its lower register, a dark place I’ve never heard him venture before. Gage and I follow in close as we head towards the unsuspecting group of adversaries. “Dad, this is Skyla. You know Gage.”
I solidify. I can’t even begin to comprehend that the Count still physically linked to Demetri is Ellis’ father.
“Skyla,” he extends his hand in my direction, says my name like a question.
A wickedness illuminates him from the inside. He looks remarkably like Ellis in every way just aged—harder.
I shake his rough, dry hand and quickly replace my arm by my side.
Demetri steps into me.
“Skyla, you must profusely thank your mother for me. If it weren’t for her amazing organizational skills, none of this would have been possible.” He wands his hand over the crowd huddled over his table.
I still haven’t seen the merch he’s pushing. For all I know it’s headless Fems and haunted water globes or something equally as vindictive just to propagate his insatiable need to control the universe.
“I don’t see any reason to thank her for you,” I smirk. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to do that yourself.”
“Indeed,” his lips curl into a black smile.
“Mr. Edinger?” Chloe crops up unexpected like most vermin do. “How much for the mirror?”
“Mirror?” I shoot a look in the direction of her crooked finger as she pulls Demetri aside.
Gah!
Holy freaking shit!
There is no way in hell I’m letting Chloe haul that thing into her bedroom. She’ll have her way with Gage nightly. More often than I will.
“It was a gift,” I hear him say. “I’m having second thoughts on parting with it,” Demetri taps the side of his face.
“That’s the mirror,” I hiss to Gage.
“It’s huge,” Gage eyes it as innocent bystanders fondle its existence.
“That’s gonna look really F’ed up in your room
,” Ellis whispers. “I’d let Bishop score this one.”
“No way,” I head over to Demetri and Chloe where the haggling is well underway.
“How much?” I demand.
“Forty dollars,” Demetri says. “I think that’s a fair price. All funds go to the Community Center of course.” He strokes Chloe’s long dark hair in one fell swoop. “Would you like me to load it into the trunk of your vehicle?”
“Yes,” Chloe is mesmerized by his touch. Her face lights up a slap cheek red—I do believe Chloe Bishop is blushing.
“No,” I protest. “I’ll give you eighty.” I don’t have eighty of anything but that’s beside the point.
“One hundred,” Chloe opens her purse and hands over a fist full of dollars.
I look to Gage and Ellis with cash strapped desperation.
“Two hundred,” Gage pipes up. “For Skyla.”
I give a passive smile over to Chloe.
Demetri cocks his head, amused. “You must care deeply for this young lady to want to give her the entire world. I assure you, it’s the only way to love a woman.” He digs into me with his dark eyes, accesses me with a newfound curiosity.
Surely he must realize that both Chloe and I have stumbled upon its magical curative properties where reality is concerned. Why else would I pay two hundred nonexistent dollars for something I already have in my room in triplicate?
“I really want this,” I come just shy of touching him to prove my point. “Please,” I lace my voice with sugar—an arsenic based sugar derivative.
“I was here first.” Chloe’s mouth falls open as the desperation oozes from her pores. Soon she’ll offer her up her body—her soul for the reflection collection. “I’ll be sure to donate two hundred and fifty dollars to the Community Center first thing in the morning.” She tries to pull him along by the sleeve, but Demetri doesn’t budge.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he narrows his wicked twin darts at me. “I’m giving it to Skyla. It’s the least I could do to repay her mother for all the kindness she’s endowed upon me since I’ve been back.”
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