His features sharpen. “It was made known to me.” He gives a hard blink. “Skyla, it’s not your strength or your blood that will ultimately usher your downfall, it’s that pit in the center of your face you insist on vocalizing with.”
“Then I’ll keep it shut.” Obviously, I shouldn’t have said anything.
“You’re incapable.” He presses into me with a hard look. “It’s your mortal flaw.”
I open my mouth to say something, but can’t find the words. I’ve already told both Logan and Gage he’s a Sector. If Marshall finds out, he’ll hand me over to the Counts. I don’t like where this runaway train is headed.
He reaches over and touches my face gently with the back of his hand. That sweet rush I anticipate ripples through me—makes me ache to keep him there just a little bit longer.
I’m so much trouble in this world—maybe it’s not the one I really belong in. Maybe, before I kill another human being, I should weigh all my options.
“Does the thought of bringing back your father still intrigue you?”
“Always.” But not enough to eternally unite with a Sector.
“Look beyond your hormones, Skyla, before you rack up a body count. You will kill again, and the list grows rather rapidly. If you knew whose blood you were ultimately responsible for, I don’t think you’d sit here with that look of indecision on your face.” He pauses to clasp my other hand. “I could end this war for you. It’s better to decide now than wish you could take it all back once you’ve fed the grave. There will come a day that you’ll wish it were you supine in a casket rather than the ones you put there.” He studies my face with an underlying look of malice. “Especially, one in particular.”
***
After the faux tutoring session is over, I convince Gage to drive me to the bowling alley in hopes of seeking employment. Of course, he tries unsuccessfully to talk me out of the idea.
We arrive just as a group of construction workers are taking off. Two of them leer at me openly. Maybe hanging out with a bunch of construction workers for a five-hour shift isn’t the greatest idea.
Logan’s kitchen remodel is well under way. The floors are done in chalky orange tiles, new stainless appliances are in place with the plastic wrap hanging partially off, and a giant brick oven looks ready to be filled with pizza.
“Nice!ut o I beam over at Logan. “Guess you’ll be needing an extra pair of hands.”
“You signing up?” He tilts his head thoughtfully, flirting with me ever so slightly with those sundrenched eyes.
I give a quick nod.
“You’re hired.” He lets out a smug grin of satisfaction directed at Gage. “Of course, employees aren’t allowed to date, but I’ll make some allowances.” Logan doesn’t bother hiding his sarcasm.
“Let me guess, they have something to do with scheduling,” Gage says, nodding me over to the table.
“You’re a bright boy. That’s why I keep you around.”
The three of us take a seat.
“He’s my ride.” I have to work with Gage, besides I want to.
“I’ll still bring you, pick you up,” Gage offers. “I’m not going anywhere.” He slits a quick glance at Logan.
Must change subject.
“Marshall keeps burrowing into my life. How am I going to get rid of him?” I don’t tell them that I’ve added being captured by him to my growing list of paranoia.
“Request a transfer,” Gage suggests.
“No… don’t.” Logan looks lost in thought. “See if you can get him to tell you how to bind a Fem. I’m not getting far with Lexy.”
“I guess I can. I just don’t like the thought of him wooing me. His words not mine.”
“I don’t either.” Gage picks up my hand and entwines our fingers right in front of Logan.
A distant smile curls the sides of Logan’s lips as he glares over at Gage.
“I don’t like the thought of anybody wooing you.” He doesn’t waver his stare from Gage. There’s a blackness in Logan I haven’t seen before as he intensifies his discontent. His chest rises and falls at a quickened pace. “Celestras are known for erratic behavior when provoked to anger.” He leans in a little towards Gage. “We’re often justified and rarely caught.”
“So you’re saying I should watch my back?” Gage clenches his jaw at the idea.
“I’m saying you shouldn’t justify my anger.”
I wonder how far Logan would take this—if he could do to Gage what I did to Holden. Doubtful. Although something unfamiliar boils deep behind his eyes, and it makes me think just maybe he could.
Chapter Sixteen
Worlds Collide
Paragon’s landscape is dotted with pumpkins—bodies are strung up in trees like Christmas ornaments, and miniature graveyards have cropped up on every other front lawn. There’s something about filling this island with all of the glory and horror of wickedness that just feels right.
“You mind if I drive?” I ask Gage on the way home.
“You have your license?” He knows full well I don’t.
“No, but I will.”
“It’s against the law.”
His sudden sense of loyalty to law enforcement amuses me.
“Look, this is a tiny island with like two lanes. It’s not like I’m asking you to let me zip down an L.A. freeway with a blindfold on. Who’s going to care?”
“I’m going to care, and you’re going to care when things go wrong.”
“Nothing is going to go wrong.” I place my hand over his and bat my lashes.
Gage pulls over, and we switch seats.
“Just straight home,” he says.
OK, so he’s not that enthused with the idea.
“Home—got it.” I drive to the intersection where we would usually make a right, and turn left instead.
“Skyla.”
“What? I’m taking the long way.” I stop abruptly as the light turns yellow.
“Geez,” he says, bracing himself against the dashboard. “Ease into it, will you?”
“You wanna go to Devil’s Peak?” It feels so freeing to be behind the wheel. I can go anywhere—do anything.
“No. You might accidently drive us over the edge.”
“Then let’s go to the beach.”
The light changes, and I pump the gas a few times, sputtering the truck forward in a series of staccato jerks. Then something loosens in the pedal, and it’s almost like the car is driving itself.
It takes about three good miles before Gage looks over with a mischievous half smile.
“I don’t know what happened,” he starts, “but you’ve improved drastically. I think I might actually start to breathe again.”
“Told you it’d be fine. I’m totally getting the hang of this.”
The pedal depresses beneath my foot, and the truck slides into the opposing lane. The truck speeds up unnaturally, and I pass up three minivans in a row and glide right in front of them and back into the proper lane.
“Holy shit!” Gage digs his fingers into the dashboard. “That was an incline, Skyla! There is no way you could have seen if there was a car coming.” He lays a hand over the wheel. “Pull over.”
My heart races feverishly as the gas pedal sinks beneath my foot again. The light at the intersection turns yellow and I try to pump the break, but the accelerator is sticking.
“Something is wrong.” I try to steady the wheel, but it twists and turns, rotating powerfully beneath my fingers as though its got a mind of its own. “Oh my, God!” I close my eyes as the car sails into the intersection just as cross traffic begins to speed into the street.
“Skyla!” Gage takes off his seatbelt and tries hopping over on top of me to gain control of the wheel.
I look up in time to see the whites of someone’s eyes just as a dark green Hummer slams into the corner of the hood and sends us spinning out of control. I grab a hold of Gage by the shirt and try to hang onto to him. Another car plows into us just behind the passenger side and stops all mo
vement. Gage explodes through the windshield, through a million tiny fragments of pebble-sized glass, and rolls over to the hood of the Hummer. A trail of blood fills the interim.
“Gage!” I scream, as I snap off my seatbelt. I try to open the driver’s side door, but it’s jammed. Blue bits of glass litter the seat as I crawl over and get out of the passenger side. “Gage?” It comes out a startled cry as I try to reach his bloodied body.
I’m numb—the world feels as though it’s shaking. A light rain begins to pelt me, and I can’t feel a thing.
His face…oh God…his face!
Splinters of glass glitter off his forehead, his cheeks. Blood trickles from a thousand different places, covering his flesh completely, despite the rain’s best effort to wash it all away.
“Can you hear me?” I say it quieter than intended.
Gage lets out a soft moan and tries unsuccessfully to sit up, only to land back on the hood with a hard thump.
“Don’t move!” I hear somebody shout. A woman pulls me to the side.
Sirens cut through the air, as a steady pulse of red and yellow flickering lights blink through the night like a seizure.
I move towards Gage as the air around me turns an ashen shade of grey. I can feel myself falling. The asphalt comes in quick—then the world, and everything in it, disappears.
***
I struggle to open my lids, the shock of commotion around me is drowned out by a banging headache that pulsates through my ears—it all floods back to me.
“Gage?” I sit up fighting a wave of nausea.
“You OK?” A lady wearing purple-rimmed glasses and a worried expression tries to stop me from getting up.
Gage is being lifted onto a gurney. I can see his eyes moving around frantically.
“Gage!” I bolt over, filled with relief. His face is still covered with pink swirls of blood that dilute with the rain.
“I’m OK.” He groans as they load him into the ambulance. I don’t wait for anybody to ask if I want to come along, I just hop inside and take a seat near the back where they position his head.
“I’m so sorry. I swear I lost control.”
“Incoming!” shouts the EMT as he flexes another body on a gurney into the ambulance.
“I’m not hurt.” A boy around our age raises his hand. His face is cut, and there’s blood all over. “You driving that car?” His expression darkens as he bores into me with an accusing stare.
I don’t say anything, just sit there wondering how many ambulances are going to be filled and if I’ve managed to kill anybody in the process.
“This is my girlfriend,” Gage hitches his thumb at me. “She was just learning to drive.”
“Female drivers, no survivors.” He swipes the blood from his mouth. He looks back at me and runs his eyes up and down quickly. “Pierce Kragger.”
Gage and I exchange glances.
Oh my, God. I almost killed another one.
“My dad’s a lawyer. He’ll fix it so you’ll never want to sit behind the wheel again.” He gives a little laugh before lying back down. “He’s good at keeping idiots off the street.”
The fact that I killed his brother sails through my brain and I excuse his rude behavior.
Gage reaches back and touches my hand as the ambulance begins to wail down the street.
Did you say you lost control of the wheel? He asks.
“And the gas and the brakes,” I say out loud. I don’t care how insane I look to Pierce or the EMT sitting at the far end.
I’m starting to think this wasn’t an accident, Gage says.
I look over at Pierce lying there—Holden’s brother.
Just what are the odds?
Chapter Seventeen
Survivor
“Well, you’re a pair.” Dr. Oliver walks into the hospital room as Gage and me inspect ourselves in a hand held mirror. I quickly replace the scarf around my neck.
“Look at you.” The horror jumps off his face as he takes in his son’s intensely sliced up features. “The intern says it’s all superficial with the exception of your shoulder.”
“He has a concussion,” I add. Not that I should be adding anything. I should be running for the exit—subtracting myself from the equation. I wouldn’t blame Dr. Oliver for wanting to throw me out a window.
Emma and Logan come in winded. Her hands fly up to her mouth as she lets out a wild gasp.
“What happened?” Logan’s anger with Gage has clearly dissipated—although I wouldn’t be surprised if it reprised itself in my direction at any moment.
“I didn’t see him coming.” Gage groans as he attempts to sit up.
“Nice try, but the police report says it was a female driver.” Dr. Oliver tilts his head to the side expecting an explanation.
“I think the truck might be haunted,” I say. It’s true.
The three of them stare back at me as though I had just slapped them all in unison.
“Something was definitely off.” Gage scoots in and clasps my hand. “One minute she was stuttering down the road, and the next thing I knew she was ditching in and out of traffic at eighty miles an hour.”
God—was I doing eighty?
A great look of sadness comes over Emma as she collapses her hands up near temples. “It may not have been her,” she whispers, “but it was because of her.”
***
In a rare and dangerous moment, Logan offers to give me a ride back home.
“Your aunt hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you. I thought she was going to cry when she apologized for like the hundredth time.”
“I know, but that’s because she’s too nice to say what she really means,” I pause. “I almost killed her son.”
“You didn’t.” He smoothes his hand over my knee. “If you want, I’ll teach you how to drive.”
“You will?”
“Yeah, I’ll take you to the Black Forest one day, there’s a nice clearing. The only thing you’ll be remotely capable of hitting is a tree.” He flexes a mock smile.
Nice—great time for humor. Then it occurs to me that plenty of people get killed each year by ramming their cars into trees, and I’m perfectly capable of including myself in that statistic.
“There’s a party at the bowling alley Saturday night,” Logan says, passing my house and pulling in alongside the evergreens that stand guard at the base of our street. The moon is covered in a heavy vale of storm clouds, and if it weren’t for the fact Logan’s truck is white, we’d blend perfectly into the shadows. Chloe chose a lousy color for his truck.
“Sort of like an after party to Ellis’ Halloween bash?” That was stupid. Ellis’ party is on Friday.
It feels awkward here with Logan. I haven’t been with him alone like this in so long, it feels unnatural.
“Lexy invited me to go on Halloween,” he says.
“And you’re going to do it?”
“I’ll just meet her there.” He shakes his head and looks despondent out the window.
A surge of relief pulses through me.
“That party at the bowling alley?” He picks up my hand and pulls me towards him. “It’s private.”
“Oh, another Lexy event?” Just add it to the list of growing horrors.
“Itights very private.” He gives the impression of a wicked grin.
“Oh, for me. Of course, I’ll be there.”
“If you want you can hang out after your shift while I close up. Then we can start the party.” The contours of his face are laced with shadows—they define him, make him look strong, hard as marble.
My heart picks up pace. I’m not sure what kind of party Logan has in mind, but I’ll definitely be hanging around to find out.
“Sounds like we’re dating on the job,” I bite down on my lip.
“You know what they say—there’s an exception to every rule.” And with that he leans in and kisses me, makes me forget rules and accidents and boys named Pierce.
***
&n
bsp; August 12th,
I took Nevermore with me down to the dunes. I had him sit in a tree and wait until Gage met up with me. He was working so I agreed to meet him, plus I didn’t want him to see Nev until the big reveal.
Of course, I brought all kinds of great food and was way too nervous to take one bite in front of him. I sat and watched as he ate, as he swallowed, I swear everything that boy does is perfect. Anyway, I had Nevermore come down and Gage tried to shoo him away. Too freaking funny!
I told him it was OK, that it was the guardian my father gave me when I was eight. I took his hand and placed it over Nev. I held them both while I pulled out my knife and cut them. That’s the way I remember my father doing it. I remember how my blood beaded on the blade. Now Nev has Levatio and Celestra blood circulating inside of him. He’s a prince among birds, literally. Doesn’t matter though, he’s impressed onto Gage now. I’ve given Nev to him as a gift. He’s Gage’s bird now. I hope Gage knows how much it means for me to give up Nevermore. I love that bird more than my brother, hell, more than my mother.
So things didn’t go so great after that. I tried to lean in and kiss him and he backed away like I had cooties or something. He says he’s real sorry because he’s not trying to lead me on, but he’s saving himself for someone else. Who the fuck saves kisses? And for some girl he hasn’t even met yet! He must think I’m repulsive. I’m so stupid for giving him my heart, my bird, my anything.
I miss Nev. I think he was the only one capable of loving me.
-Chloe
Rain beats down against my window. I clutch Chloe’s diary against my chest and press my hand up against the cool of the glass, watch as the window lights up in a fog around my fingers.
That was me. I was the girl Gage waited for, and I’ll probably be the one to accidentally kill him one day.
A sizzle of lightning electrifies the sky. It slaps against the palm of my hand like a hammer and then produces a violent shatter.
In a moment, the room is lit up with supernatural light and an explosion of flying glass.
Burn Page 7
