Burn

by Addison Moore

  “It’s for Halloween,” I say, quietly running my finger across the incision.

  “You are pushing the both of us to the outer limits.” His voice shakes as efforts to control himself begin to wane. “Is this family some kind of joke to you?” His voice booms across the house creating an unnatural echo. It’s deathly silent in the void.

  There it is. The explosion.

  I can feel Drake pulling up a seat beside me eagerly anticipating the rest of the show.

  “Because if you think you’re too good for us, we’ll be happy to make other arrangements.” There is something more than anger inside of him—it’s as though the aftertaste of genuine hatred is layered just beneath. Then it hits me. Tad really does hate me. He doesn’t want me as a part of this family.

  “Mom?” I want to ask if she’s going to stand there and let him talk to me like this, but she cowers into him almost as if she agrees.

  “Skyla.” She pushes her fingers into her forehead and closes her eyes. “Just get to school. We’ll start fresh later.”

  “Right.” I take off upstairs.

  Something tells me we can never start fresh again.

  ***

  Gage is all hopped up on the heels of our love as we stand in the overflow parking lot.

  There’s something charming about the way he smiles and gazes openly, but something alarming about the fact that we’ve let a fake relationship get so far while I’m still in the midst of a real one. The good thing about being with Gage is that I made a promise to myself that whenever we’re in public I’ll never pretend my feelings for him. The bad thing is, during moments like this, when it’s just the two of us in the woods and there’s not another soul around, I should feel far guiltier than I do.

  “I dreamed about you,” he says. The smile melts off his face ever so slightly.

  “Was I naked?” I bite down on my lip and give a playful smile.

  “Nope.” He loosens into a grin. “Very much clothed.”

  “So, what happened?” I give a light massage to the back of his neck.

  “Can’t tell you. It was one of my special dreams.”

  “Special? As in code for dirty?”

  “No.” His eyes widen into two large pools. “Special as in prophetic.”

  “You know something?” I cease all movement and gaze into him. His dark hair lies in thick wet strands—it curls up around his temples and at the base of his neck in neat little coils.

  “I know lots of things.” He looks down briefly. “Anyway, I like dreaming about you, seeing you even when you’re not with me.”

  I wrap my arms around his waist and sway with him in the breeze.

  “I want to know the things you know. Will you tell me what you saw?”

  “It’s not important what I saw.” He gives an apprehensive smile as if trying to hide a mild thread of panic.

  “It’s important to me. If it concerns my future, I want to know.”

  “I’ve done that before, and I swore I’d never do it again.”

  “So it wasn’t good—the dream.” My hands drop to my sides.

  “I never said that. It was fine, I just…I think we’re going to be late.” He picks up my hand, and we start in towards the English building.

  “Just promise me something.” I step in front of him, blocking his path.

  “What’s that?” His dimples dig in on either side, and I get the urge to drag him into the thicket again.

  “One day you’ll tell me everything.”

  He takes in a ragged breath. “Trust me, Skyla, there will never be a day you will want to know everything. Sometimes it’s just better to let life surprise you.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Oh Wicked Night

  Drake drives Brielle and me over to Ellis’ party in his newly acquired death mobile. I’m starting to think maybe Mom and Tad aren’t so hot on Drake after all. This thing is rife with engine problems, torn upholstery, stinks like a cigarette burial ground, and I swear it hobbles. It has three-car pileup written all over it.

  As soon as we hit the driveway, I bounce out of the car.

  I tug at my skirt as I make my way up the driveway. Instead of showing off my French maid costume in front of Mom and Tad, and trying to escape their clutches as they attempt to strangle me with my fishnet stockings, I changed over at Brielle’s.

  Brielle’s mom, Darla, lent me a pair of four inch spiked heels with metal studs running down the back. They’re totally cute, but hurt like hell to walk in. Darla kept saying they were her favorite pair of FM’s, and when I asked what FM’s were, both Brielle and Darla laughed.

  It’s annoying when I don’t know things. They’ve totally lived their lives cloistered on an island—they’re the ones who shouldn’t know things. I’m from L.A. for God’s sake. I’m almost positive I was exposed to every vile thing possible before I was nine, and somehow an entire group of people sequestered from society know more than I do.

  Ellis’ front yard is littered with gravestones, unearthed caskets, and about a dozen groaning corpses that I’m not entirely sure aren’t Fems. I’m expecting anything tonight, and a part of me feels ready—the other part suggests I find either Gage or Logan and hide.

  “Knock knock,” I say. The front door sits wide open, so I step on in. The house is empty. The hollow click of my heels creates an echo as I traipse over the glossy marble floor in the direction of the kitchen. The thick scent of something baking permeates the air. It definitely doesn’t smell like Ellis’ house.

  I meander on, until I find Ellis himself pulling a gallon of milk from the fridge. It doesn’t take long for Brielle and Drake to wander in behind me and make themselves at home on the couch.

  “Wow, what’s this?” A glass pan of brownies sits cooling on the stove. “You bake?”

  “Yes, I bake. All good men bake.” He’s wearing a football uniform with a tire track across the front of his chest and things that actually look like bloodied entrails hang out of his jeans. “You want one?” He offers me a brownie.

  “Sure, I guess. Hey, wait…” I tilt my head suspiciously. “You put your stash in these.” I think I just nailed precisely why Ellis Harrison bakes—why he does anything in fact.

  “What are you on? I don’t share my stash in its natural form, let alone grind it up and waste it on a dozen different people. I just thought it’d be nice to have something around, plus my mom bought the mix.”

  I wave my hand over the dish. “Ooh, still warm. They’re so my favorite when they’re warm.”

  He pours us each a glass of milk in tall cobalt glasses before cutting long rows several inches thick into the pan. We each pick up a strip and indulge.

  “These are really good. You should go into business,” I muse.

  “Check out at the nun and the priest.” He flicks a finger over at Brielle and Drake. They’ve gone horizontal and are pushing their faces into one another. “Looks brutal.”

  “I think it’s a part of their costume. You know, sort of a performance piece.”

  We just sit there stuffing our faces and watch them like it’s some sick show on TV until a stream of people filter in through the main entry.

  “I better shut the lights off.” Ellis takes off and starts flicking switches. Rows and rows of candles are set out in various places all over the house that I hadn’t noticed until now.

  Ellis’ brownies are really freaking good. We’ve managed to polish off half the pan already, so there’s no point in cutting them up and setting them out. I’m practically doing him a favor by downing the rest. Truth is, I only like brownies and cookies if they’re fresh out of the oven. There’s something about warm gooey chocolate melting in my mouth that I find intensely satisfying.

  A swarm moves in. The bitch squad cackles up a storm in my direction. There she is—Mama Michelle. Her hair is curled in tight little ringlets that spring up near her face. She’s got on a deep velvet cape that, in this devoid lighting, looks a dark shade of bloody crimson. Of cours
e, she’s fully equipped with a clunky walking cast from that flying leap she took off Devil’s Peak a few weeks ago. Little red mommy hood. I press my lips together to keep the comment from vomiting out.

  Emily looks like a questionable Alice in Wonderland, her fake long blonde hair and overdone face makes it look like she’s in drag more than anything else.

  Then there’s Lexy. Actually Lexy looks good—too good. She’s supposed to be the queen of hearts judging by the glorified leotard, mini tutu, and a thousand glittering hearts sprinkled all over. A giant heart on her chest cradles her boobs, sort of gives the impression they’re sitting on a tray. She’s got her feet pressed into heels twice as high as mine, and they totally look like FM’s, and…oh freaking shit. I think I just figured out what FM’s stand for, and I don’t like those words having anything to do with Lexy on a night when Logan’s going to try and get some info out of her.

  “And what are you supposed to be?” Emily pulls her bloodstained lips into a snarl while examining me up and down.

  “French maid.” I point to my neck. “Who just got her throat slit.”

  The three of them sit and gawk with their arms folded tight.

  “It’s supposed to be sexy with a Goth flare,” I add stupidly.

  “You just keep believing that.” Lexy swivels her head over her neck and for a brief moment, I’m hopeful it’s going to glide right off.

  “I don’t think you’d know sexy if it walked up and bit you in the face—which I’m sure bears a striking resemblance to your ass.” Michelle high fives Emily.

  “So where’s the big bad wolf?” I ignore her quip, looking behind her, fully expecting to see Marshall. Showing up at a student party isn’t beneath him. Apparently knocking them up isn’t either.

  “Is he coming?” She fingers the rose around her neck.

  “How would I know? I’m not his keeper.”

  Lexy and Emily take off towards the cauldron of bubbling liquid that Ellis just set out, surrounded by towers of red plastic cups that act as an inebriation warning system.

  “I saw you.” Michelle jabs her finger into my chest with each word.

  I slap her hand away. “Saw me what?”

  “Get in the car and take off during second. You think your shit doesn’t stink? You come into town, steal Logan, break his heart, then take Gage. You disgust me. And now you think you can sleep around with Dudley on the side? I’ve known Logan and Gage all my life. I’m not going to stand by and watch you slut around while grinding everyone to pieces. I bet that’s why you moved from L.A. You slept around town so damn much, they threw you out.”

  “First of all…” I go to point my finger, and my entire hand feels lighter than air.

  Ellis turns on the music, and it’s some song I haven’t heard in like forever.

  “God I love this song!” I really, really love this song. “Anyway, I don’t break hearts, and I’m not a slut,” I pause as I make my way past her. “Besides, they would never kick you out of L.A. for sleeping around. They erect statues and throw parades for shit like that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bite Me

  I start scanning the crowd for either Logan or Gage. It feels so lonely without them. I’m so sick of wanting Logan, wishing I could be with him, stealing a moment just to be together, and never having enough of him. But then there’s Gage, those eyes that see right into my soul, the way he protects me, and he just so happens to have the face of a thousand underwear models rolled into one. He’s the paragon of perfect. I laugh at my own pun. That is actually pretty damn funny.

  Ellis comes down the hall with that scary clown mask he terrorized me with a few weeks back.

  I suck in a lungful of air as he charges at me and tries to nip at my neck.

  “Get away!” I push him off. I hate clowns, almost as much as I’m hating Ellis right now.

  He snatches the mask off and laughs. And strangely I find myself laughing right along with him. Freaking stupid Ellis.

  Ellis. I’ve never noticed before how cute he is in his own right. In fact if I wasn’t with Logan and Gage, I could totally see myself with Ellis. I laugh a little louder at the thought. It’s sort of gross the way he’s always stoned, but I could probably change him if I wanted.

  “Would you give up pot for me?” I giggle into him as he wraps an arm around my waist. He’s smiling wildly with his seductive half closed eyes—then I see him—Gage.

  A tall sexy vampire stands near the roaring fire. I hadn’t even noticed how magnificent the fire is, how ferocious the flames look as they lick outside the confines of the hearth, and for a second, I’m mesmerized by the taunting orange blaze.

  Gage heads towards me. I push Ellis away, and he drifts effortlessly into a group of girls.

  I can’t believe this. Gage has his entire face done up—sickly pale skin offset by his dark peaked brows, lips as black as death. God, he’s got lipstick on—I’m transfixed by this.

  He gives a devilish smile and pulls me along by the hand down the long hall at a quickened clip. We end up in a dark corridor, nothing but rows of closed doors one after another. Gage opens the one at the end with caution before ushering us inside.

  It’s quiet in here. My ears pulsate in protest to the powerful silence. I stretch my arms in front of me and flail around in the shadows. It feels like I’m about to fall, like the whole world has inverted into an alternate dimension for just Gage and me, and now we’re here alone.

  I run my hands down his chest and rest my fingers on the rim of his pants. I can feel him brushes his lips over my face, light as a feather, and it makes me want him even more.

  “Kiss me,” I say.

  A tremor of laughter rumbles deep inside his chest. He darts a kiss behind my ear and it tickles me mercilessly.

  “Stop.” I giggle the word out unintelligibly.

  He bites down on my earlobe hard. The pain spears through me—hot, like an errant ember, then dissipates into something softer, a more manageable ache.

  I gasp for breath as he makes his way down my neck. He grazes and gnaws on my flesh until it feels like I’m being invaded by razor blades.

  “Your teeth.” I manage the words in a spasm. “So sharp.”

  “You like that?” He rumbles. “I had them filed.” He leans his head back and a thin seam of moonlight catches the tips of his canines.

  “That’s so hot.” I close my eyes as he lunges back at my throat. “Hey.” I want to tell him that it hurts, but the words get jumbled in a series of moans. Gage suckles off my neck, pretending to drink deeply. My entire person responds in spasms alternating between pleasure and pain, and I’m starting to feel light headed. I give a halfhearted struggle to push him away, but he lingers for several more minutes before finally coming up for air.

  He whispers hot in my ear, “Gotcha.”

  ***

  Gage leaves in a hurry—probably has to get to a restroom fast. Lord knows I’ve been there.

  I filter through the crowd. The party is still going strong when I finally make my way out of the maze of hallways. I swear these houses behind the gates are like self-contained labyrinths.

  Finally, I spot Logan and Gage sitting by themselves near the pool and head on over. The backyard is lit up with hundreds of jack-o-lanterns. That must be Ellis’ other talent, aside from baking, because each one is expertly carved up with an intricate design.

  “We were just thinking you got eaten by Fems. Where’ve you been?” Gage pulls me into a giant hug.

  “I was…” I jerk my hand back at the house and start to laugh. “I was with you, and you took off.”

  “When were you with me?” His forehead creases, and I realize he doesn’t have a stitch of makeup on.

  “Just now.” Is this like some stupid prank? “What are you guys doing out here? It’s freezing.” I rub at my arms vigorously—it feels as though my entire body is vibrating from each little goose bump. It almost feels as though Marshall were touching me.

  “I w
as just telling Gage how much I like his dress.” Logan nods over to his cape.

  “And I was just telling Logan my girlfriend asked me to wear it.”

  “Nice. Hey, where’s your make-up?” I’m starting to think that really wasn’t Gage back there. Shit. I probably just hooked up with some drunk guy form East. Everyone at West knows I’m with Gage, right?

  “I draw the line at face painting.” He tightens his grip around my waist and glares over at Logan. “Your strategy of forcing me listen to your big bad plan of how you’re going to battle the Counts, just so I would miss half the party—backfired. And now she was molested by some idiot in a cape.” He looks to me. “You remember what this guy looked like? His name?”

  “I thought it was you.” I shake my head over at Gage.

  “What did he do to you?” Logan stands and gently rubs my arm up and down as his eyes widen with horror. It’s only then I notice he’s in jeans and wearing his football jersey, looking like his scary hot self.

  “He took me in the back room and kissed my neck.” I tilt my head to the side.

  Logan looks from me to Gage with a clear look of hurt.

  Great. Now he’s going to think that’s all we do when we’re alone. Then it occurs to me it sort of is and I feel like shit.

  “Here you are!” Lexy comes up from behind Logan. She swings him by the waist, and they both sail into the pool with a giant splash that drenches me from the waist down.

  Logan pops up like a cork and shakes back his hair. His teeth glow as he offers me a soft sad grin, but the moment passes too quickly.

  Lexy charges at him with open arms and he stops her midflight by playfully dunking her under water. I hope he holds her down at least a good four minutes.

  A steady rise of steam drifts on the surface of the pool.

  “Feels warm.” Gage shakes the water off his hands. He gently lifts my hair back and examines my neck under the paper lantern, wincing. “That’s looks like one mean bruise. I’m gonna kill this guy. Are you sure you’re OK? Did he do anything else?” His face lights up with worry.