Burn

by Addison Moore

  “Why the costume? Halloween was over five minutes ago.”

  He strokes his chin with his finger, examines me as though I were missing something.

  “Halo?” I ask, half serious.

  “Don’t be a child. It’s simply an effect caused by the inner luminescence we’re known to give off. Come.” He walks further into the barn and pulls open the door to a huge empty stall.

  I walk in without hesitating. It’s insane really—playing dress up with my Algebra Two teacher while he pens me in like an animal.

  He shuts the door creating a rather strange partition between us and the rest of the world.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I wanted to see you like this. Youyou tsre the most exquisite creature on earth, Skyla.” He gives a thoughtful nod. “This is the part where you reciprocate.” He looks dejected as though he knows it’s not possible.

  “You are the strangest creature on earth.” And hot as hell, but I leave that part out.

  “I have a vision that you can test out your theory with.” He takes a bold step forward and burrows into me with a heated stare.

  “I don’t have a theory.” Never said I had a theory, and suddenly I’m feeling caged in like an overgrown bird. Is this the part where I call Nev?

  “You need a foundation in which to test these thoughts that plague you.” He takes another step forward and runs his open palm along the rim of my left wing. It sends a sizzle of excitation coursing through my veins.

  “What’s this constant flow of lightning?” I try to keep my lips from shivering in rhythm to the vibrations.

  “Lightning is a good way to put it—passion is another. You felt it when I took you to my home—our home,” he adds.

  Marshall focuses intently, bears into me with his entire soul—I can feel him pouring into me. His features meld ever so slightly, and he begins to look like Logan’s twin again.

  “Do you prefer me this way? I don’t mind one bit.” He gives a wide vexing grin.

  “Stop that,” I say, but it’s too late. I’m already hypnotized. He picks up my hands and takes another step forward.

  I have to keep reminding myself this isn’t Logan. He’ll never be Logan no matter how hard he tries.

  “Skyla,” he imitates Logan’s husky tone with highlighted precision.

  I exhale a lungful of air that I didn’t realize I was holding. Logan gives a sad smile, the same melancholy look that Gage gave off for so long—still does. We exchange our sorrowful smiles. Everything in me knows this isn’t Logan, everything in me knows it’s not right to play with the fire that is Marshall. But how will I ever know if the future is immovable, if I don’t test it? How will I ever know if I should abandon all fruitless efforts and sever the chords that lasso Logan and me together like a noose on both ends?

  Logan comes in and kisses me, deep, masterful kisses that match my passion and intensity. It’s that electrical impulse that flies through me, that reminds me this is Marshall. It both detracts and rockets this experience to its zenith, leaves me lingering far too long and far too willing.

  A scene emerges—Gage and me, alone in the butterfly room. He plucks one of the paper butterflies off the wall and blows it at me. It energizes and comes to life with its bright blue paper wings, fragile as bougainvillea petals.

  Marshall and me are so immersed in our moment, with his arms dropping ever so slowly below my waist, that I ignore the squeak of the stall door opening, chalk it up to the wind, or Holden’s ghost.

  A shrill scream penetrates the air. It saws through the moment with its serrated buzzing.

  I look over and see Mia with her hands clamped over her mouth. Her eyes are locked in fear as she staggers backwards and runs away fast.

  There was the kill switch—the sharp knife that could split my indecisiveness to ever act on my lust again. It was always reality that ended those feelings in me for Marshall.

  I push into Marshall’s chest with violent force. He’s completely himself again and that’s precisely what Mia saw.

  “You are ruining my life!” I thunder in his face.

  He pulls the wings off me one at a time with no affect whatsoever.

  “You don’t even care that she saw us.” I’m exasperated by his lack of responsiveness.

  “She’ll get used to it. In the meantime, threaten her. Find something to lord over her. That’s what sisters do.” He says it like it’s some universal truth.

  “You looked like Logan to seduce me.”

  “He’s your weakness—don’t blame me for the circumstances.” He blinks over at me. “I’ll play dirty if I have to.” The words slit through the air.

  I’m sick of Marshall and his head games. It was one thing when Mia wasn’t dragged into it, but now this has blown up into a huge freaking disaster. Not only is he my teacher, but I happen to have a boyfriend. What worse example could I possibly be to her?

  An explosion of anger rips through me. I grab him by the collar and yank him in close.

  “You are fucking with the wrong person.” I grit the words out in pieces.

  He steps back and dusts me off with one swift stroke.

  His eyes flare up a vivid glowing copper. He seethes as though I had somehow finally crossed the line.

  “So are you,” he spits it out with venom—then disappears.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Damage

  I try to calm Mia down as we wait for Mom to pick us up. I have no idea where the hell Marshall went, but I make myself at home in his living room in an effort to try to quell my sister’s hysterics.

  Melissa strides into the room. “What happened?” She’s alarmed by Mia’s blotchy red face, her convulsive hiccupping.

  “She fell off a horse,” I say it so quickly, I don’t have time to process the lie.

  “Did not.” Mia glares over at me. She goes to open her mouth then shuts it abruptly. “I tripped.” She cuts me a hard look.

  I mouth a thank you as Melissa looks out the front window.

  “Your mom is here.” She opens the front door and heads on out. Mia speeds out right behind her, leaving me alone in Marshall’s living room.

  The dagger above the fireplace beckons me. I plan on paying a visit soon to the regional leaders with Gage. I know Logan would never go if I asked. He’s too locked up in altruistic illusions just like the rest of them.

  I reach up with my left hand and pull it down from the wall. If I took this, then both Gage and me would be well protected. It’s ironic that I’m cradling it with my Chloe arm. It was Marshall who had Ezrina hack off my arm for stealing a butter knife. A harsh reminder of what it could mean if I took this from him too. He did say it was special issue.

  I drop it in my backpack and bolt outside. I don’t bother shutting the front door. Maybe he’ll think someone else might have taken it? But deep down I know he’ll trace it’s absence straight back to me.

  Of course, there will be hell to pay.

  ***

  That night I waste no time and text both Logan and Gage to come to the butterfly room. As soon as I get home, I research the people on Logan’s list. I print out a detailed map of the addressees in which the cowards choose to hide themselves.

  “What did you need the knife for?” Gage asks trying to pluck a blue butterfly off the wall as he says it.

  I pull down his hands. I’m more than curious to see if I can change Marshall’s vision, although everything in me says I can’t. Logan hasn’t arrived yet, so it’s just the two of us.

  “I took one from Mr. Dudley’s house. I want to see if they’re the same.” I produce the dagger from behind me.

  “You took it?” His eyes ignite with horror. “Are you insane?”

  I pull the knife Gage brought from out of the sheath.

  “Look at this.” A small round symbol of a hand is embossed into the top of the handle. I press it with intention just like Marshall said, and it glows a soft shade of blue.

  “What’s going on?” He s
coots over towards me, careful not to touch the dagger.

  “It’s some otherworldly thing. Marshall said these were special issue.” I place it on the floor, and it dies back down. “It fries a person from the inside, almost instant death, just one quick incision.”

  “You really want to do this?”

  “I am doing this.” I pull the clipboard towards me again. “And this person?” I point over to the name, D. Edinger. “He’s last.” I breathe the words out with suspended anger. “I’ll cut my teeth on the others and bring my game by the time I get to him.”

  “Where’s Logan?” I’m not all that surprised he hasn’t bothered to show up yet.

  “Don’t know.” Gage examines me carefully as though he were assessing my sanity.

  “He’s not coming.” I try to mask the sadness in my voice.

  He doesn’t care about me anymore. It’s obvious the faction war means nothing to him.

  I pull out the knife I stole from Marshall and place it on my lap. I fold the addresses of the regional leaders and tuck them into my pocket.

  I lean forward and give him a succulent kiss.

  “Take me to Barcelona, Gage.”

  ***

  The morning sun warms our backs as Gage and I appear near a bus station behind a group of trees. We secure our weapons in the back of our jeans and head out towards an open marketplace. I don’t know how teleportation works or how he can control where we land, but I’m afraid to ask. As long as I don’t have the details, I won’t have the fear of ending up in some random men’s restroom, looming over my head.

  “Logan told me, a while back, that if you kill someone in a faction war you’re exempt.” I look up at Gage hopeful. “You won’t get caught, you won’t go to prison.” It’s the last one that terrifies me.

  “Yes, the factions have something in place.” He shakes his head. “But the emotional consequences—are you ready for those?”

  The brilliant blue waters of the Mediterranean jump up behind him and the color of his eyes spring out at me in concert with the sea. Gage is perfectly beautiful in this light. My heart skips thinking about how completely he loves me—how I already have everything I’m looking for with someone, right here in front of me.

  “I’m going to do this for all the families like mine. I wish someone would have done this for me. If this Edinger person were stopped before he authorized the killing of my dad, then I wouldn’t have to do this. They forced my hand. If I let these Counts off the hook, I let off the person who killed my family as well.” And they did kill my family. Tad will never be able to replace what we had before him.

  Gage takes us up a steep cobbled path that leads to an ancient looking dwelling made of stone. A gnarled wood frame creates an ornate entry. Large white billowing sheets hang on a laundry line, barricading us from the view of the bustling street full of patrons at the farmers market across the way.

  Dominic Savedra lives up on the second floor according to my paperwork. I walk boldly up the steps with Gage tucked close behind and give a power knock on the door. We give it a few minutes before walking downstairs and pounding on the main entry.

  A beautiful woman with skin the color of cinnamon emerges.

  “Do you know where we can find Dominic?” I point upstairs.

  “Working.” She says in broken English. She flicks a finger just past the farmers market.

  We cross the street in haste. I don’t know if we’re going to find him. The fact this is all happening in real time, and that we have school in the morning, is starting to make me feel like we’re sort of up a creek. Just as I’m about to question a vendor picking through his lot of green peppers, Gage nudges me.

  He points over to a sign that reads Dominic Savedra attorney at law in plain English right beneath the Spanish rendition.

  I rush up the steps and burst into the office.

  “Dominic?” I ask the petite secretary filing her nails. She picks up the phone, but I don’t wait for her permission. Instead, adrenaline propels me—cheers me on to complete this very first mission on the war against the Counts.

  I burst into the back room and find a heavyset man reclined at his desk, staring off at the television mounted on the wall.

  “Dominic Savedra?” I ask a little too loud.

  “Yes.” He sits up at attention, spreading his fingers flat across the desk.

  “Are you a Count?” I ask stupidly.

  Gage doesn’t hesitate. He plunges his knife in through Dominic Savedra’s hand, deep and settled, the way Holden pinned me in the forest. The blue illumination from the dagger quickens through the man’s body. And with that, he slumps over onto his desk.

  It was the first Count causality in the civil war evoked in my name, and it was Gage who killed for me.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Love Like Ours

  Venice, Geneva, Cape Town, Taipei, Prague, Tonga, Perth, Dublin, New York City, Cleveland, we hit them all in just one night. There were five more cities we couldn’t get to. Five regional leaders who get to see tomorrow because Gage and I were staring down the barrel of first period.

  In the morning, Gage picks me up, and we head out to school without saying two words. There’s a strangled tension between us as though we were both somehow hoping it were all a bad blood-soaked dream.

  A dauntless charcoal cloud stretches across the breadth and width of Paragon.

  At school—we move around stiff as robots. It’s not until second period that I realize for the first time how much bloodshed we are suddenly responsible for—stunned that I let Gage kill for me. It was Gage who wanted the blood on his hands and he did it for me.

  It all feels surreal, too heavy to process correctly. I want to run to Dr. Booth and tell him what a mess I’ve made of everything—how I’ve dragged Gage in, yet again.

  “Ms. Messenger, can I see you a moment?” Marshall asks with a forced smile. He instructs the students to go over their homework before leading me out into the hall and securing the door behind him.

  “Do you love your limbs?” There’s a great intensity in him I haven’t seen before.

  “Yes,” I manage to squeak out.

  “Do you love your life?” His eyes sweep up and down over my person.

  “Yes,” my voice is hoarse from being up all night.

  “You’re covered in blood and have no alliance with me whatsoever.”

  “I think I need you.” I let my gaze fall to the floor. I’ve done something huge, something horrible, and now I’m going to pay for it. Maybe Logan was right, maybe there was too much to lose going off halfcocked and massacring almost a dozen Counts.

  He lifts my chin with his finger. “You’ve proven yourself a noble warrior, Skyla.” He produces a dry smile.

  “I changed the future,” I say. “The vision never happened.” All it took was for me to bat Gage’s hand away from the butterfly. It never animated and floated up to the ceiling in a trail of sapphire glory.

  “Believe what you like. Are you interested in knowing what the payment for stealing my dagger is?”

  “What?” I’m sure it has something to do with spending the rest of my days in Sectorville.

  “Why don’t I show you?” He pulls me in by the face and indulges in a wild, uninhibited kiss as I try halfheartedly to push him away.

  A picture emerges of Mia and Melissa laughing in a crowded room. Mia jumps from off a table and falls into Tad’s waiting arms, Melissa does the same. My mother lingers beside them, with Drake and Brielle at their sides.

  Table diving? That’s what’s going to happen?

  I pull away breathless.

  “I don’t get it.” I struggle to read his expression. “Is it because I wasn’t there—in the vision? Is that what it was about?”

  “You’ll know when the time comes. Just rest assured it creates a barrier between the lot of you—an impenetrable chasm.”

  “I’m going to die.” My hand comes up to my throat. Marshall is going to remove me from the plan
et because I stole his dagger. “The chasm is death, isn’t it?”

  He drills into me with his stare, unwavering—hard as nails. “It will feel like death. Most certainly.”

  ***

  After cheer, Gage gives me a ride to my routine mental exam.

  Dr. Booth nurses his coffee, cradles it with both hands, never taking his eyes off me.

  “So Logan left you.” He reiterates after my lengthy explanation of how it all went down—Marshall with his foresight into the future, by way of his tongue.

  I don’t nod, or blink—just wait for something profound to come from his lips letting me know this will all work itself out. I want to hear him say that maybe Logan is the love of my life, and that in the end, somehow, it will be OK.

  “Fate seems to favor Gage.” He indulges in a quick sip. “He knows you’ll marry.” He shrugs as if to say there is nothing here to mourn, move on, be done with it. Dr. Booth is a Levatio, he shares the gift of knowing—he understands the finality of it all. “And the body count?” He asks as an afterthought.

  “I’d rather not say.” I lack the proper enthusiasm to own up to the carnage I’m responsible for.

  His head tilts as he stares pensively at me. “You will pay for this Skyla. I’m sorry.”

  “Everyone has to pay for what they’ve done, that’s why I did it.”

  Dr. Booth considers this, while pinching at his chin. “Slow steps—you don’t run into a war.” He folds his hands and pushes out a complacent smile. “You might find the thick of the battle a little too long, a little too painful. Better to assess that now before there’s no turning back.” His eyes rove all over my face as if memorizing it one last time. “There’s no turning back now, is there?”

  I shake my head.

  No turning back.