Expel (25 page)

A crack of light emerges at the end of the long line of mahogany bookshelves. The opening in the wall has reappeared.

Chloe is in there, milling around.

Figures.

She hovers over the haunted pictures and looks as if she’s taking her aggression out on one.

What in the hell is she doing?

She’s shaking it like a snow globe and laughing at the effort.

Chloe glides over to the mirror, sticks her hand in just like I did. My heart picks up pace, drumming on the inside until my ears hone in on the rhythm. It takes everything in me not to run over and push her in.

I imagine her head mounted on the wall of horrors as Demetri’s latest conquest and an unnatural rise of pleasure purrs within me.

Chloe doesn’t move, doesn’t flail for help—simply relaxes as her arm swims inside the unknown realm as if she belonged there.
 

Emily appears.

Shit!

I lean over and see a giant arched entry that leads in from the hall. I’m hardly impressed that the entire house can change its shape at will. It’s about as dead as Demetri’s so-called grandfather. Come to think of it both the house and the grandfather are probably Fems.

Emily moves in slow and stealth behind an unsuspecting Chloe, the clear look of fright contorting on her face. Her pale as plaster skin lies in stark contrast to the dark wiry curls she wears like a bad Halloween wig. Emily continues her noiseless effort and comes upon her the way you would approach wild game that has the ability to bolt before capture. Emily holds her hands out, gives Chloe one swift push in the back and sends her flying into the shimmering glass.

Emily ditches out of the room quick as an apparition. I bolt back through the library and try to catch up to her in the hall.

“You see Chloe anywhere?” I ask, not sure whether to reprimand or applaud her.

“She wasn’t feeling good.” A dark look of satisfaction comes over her. “I think I’m going to take off. I’ll catch you later.” Emily speeds down the stairs. A moment later the slam of the front door echoes like a gunshot.
 
 

I run back down the hall to the room of terrors, hesitate before walking through the newly formed entry. The grotesque faces mounted to the walls press over my shoulders with the weight of their stares—oppress me with enough fear to send me into paralysis.

“Chloe?” I say loud enough to fill the ethereal plane. I walk over to the oval crafted wonder and look inside. The aura of a rainbow surrounds my reflection. My hair sparkles iridescent blue. “Chloe?” I lean in with my face, feel a slight electrical impulse as my nose penetrates the barrier. I push in just enough to take a look inside. It’s a room identical to this one, everything set in reverse order.

I pull my head out and take a giant breath.

No sign of Chloe.

And, I, for one, hope it stays that way.
 

Chapter 43

I Ain’t Missing You at All

When I arrive home, a loose number of Ethan’s party guests have already meandered onto the property. I choose to ignore the rising body count and head inside. The Landon residence feels like a shanty after spending hours at Demetri’s palatial estate.

I still can’t believe I hung out at the haunted mansion alone after Em pushed Chloe into the other side of the looking glass. I was totally hopped up on life once Chloe was no longer an active participant, in this realm anyway, and ended up cataloging every freaking thing in that gargantuan antique desk. Nothing but boring everyday crap you would find at the bottom of your backpack, or the junk drawer in any household.

Eventually, I made my way over to an elongated sofa and fell asleep a good five hours. No matter what the circumstance, no matter how many homicide attempts Chloe suffers through, I want to log as many hours as possible at Demetri’s den of horrors to rid my debt to society.

Today is turning out to be a trifecta of perfection, what with no sign of Demetri, Chloe evaporating into another realm, and soon I’ll get to spend a little time with my dead ex-boyfriend, which will really clear my head. Now, if I could only get Gage into the equation, somehow, life would be just freaking grand.
 

“Hey,” Ethan calls as I’m about to climb the stairs. “Where’s Chloe?”

“No clue,” I shrug. Totally not a lie. “And when is this revenge of yours supposed to kick in?” Not that it’s important now. But it’ll look good that I asked in the event Chloe decides to show up never.

“I’m riding this wave as it comes. Don’t worry, it’ll get done,” he assures.

That’s what I was afraid of. The non-plan, the idiotic Landon strategy, the, I’m going to trick Chloe into my pants scheme. Ethan is incapable of taking down a viper like Chloe. Even death can’t keep her down. I’m betting she ditches the mirror before midnight. In fact, I bet she’s already crawled back out and brought a pack of magical Fems right along with her.

Female voices escalate from my bedroom. The door sits ajar, and I can hear the distinct sound of cackling. Sounds like Mia and Melissa made up.

I swing open the door. Only it’s not Mia and Melissa. Instead, I’m stunned to find Carson Armistead sitting in my chair with her leg slung casually over the side. Carly Foster is lounging on my bed, extruding a huge bubble from her lips while her bare feet push into my pillow.

“Excuse me?” I penetrate the air with my insolence. “Get the hell out.” There’s no point in being nice to these girls. Nice is lost on just about everyone on Paragon.

“Calm down,” Carly squeaks. I think at some point in her life Carly had her vocal cords permanently scarred with helium. There is no good reason any human being should be able to mimic a rodent so perfectly. Then again around these parts, one doesn’t necessarily need to be human. “We’re just reliving our childhood.” She shags out her straw-colored hair.

“We practically grew up in this room,” Carson swivels in my chair, staring lazily at the walls. “Chloe had a slumber party like every single week.”

God—I wonder if they know about the butterfly room?

“That’s nice. Get out.” I run my fingers through my hair before picking up the detangler and misting myself down. It ignites the room with the fresh scent of apples, eliciting a strong memory of when I first entered the haunted hotel in the Transfer with Marshall.

A gasp gets locked in my throat—Logan is there. I try to shake the thought away. He’ll be
here
soon, and that’s all that matters.

“Remember that time we snuck out and firebombed Brielle’s house with a bag of flaming crap?” Carson laughs like she’s already ripped.

Wow, real mature. No wonder Brielle can’t stand Chloe—she treated her like crap, literally.

“Or that one time we snuck down the hall and made out with Brody?” Carly snorts. “Oh, wait, that was just me!” She hacks out a laugh in pieces until nothing but air cuts from her lungs.

The slight hint of Ellis’ own private reserve hits my nostrils.

“Wait a minute,” I head over to the open window. I hadn’t even notice it was cold in here because Ethan has the front door wide open and the entire house is frigid as a meat locker. “Were you getting high in my room?” Crap. They’re freaking stoned.

Now that I think of it, everything smells like Ellis in here.

“Out,” I yell.

They rise in unison, stretch their limbs lethargic as kittens.

“You still seeing that teacher?” Carson tilts into me as if this were a genuine concern.

I’d say no, but the thought of Carson and Carly double-teaming Marshall sends a rise of vomit to the back of my throat.

“None of your business.” I don’t get it. I should be
pushing
them at Marshall, he might even gift them with demonic necklaces before the clock strikes twelve, and that would crown this as an unordinarily perfect day. But I can’t help feel a twinge of jealousy when I consider him plying them with his special brand of obsessive attention. Unfortunately, his quirky evil ways have grown on me.

“That means yes,” Carson bites down on her lip. “I saw the DVD.
Skyla Does Paragon
.” She grazes over me with delight. “You know what I don’t get? Why would you leave Logan Oliver in the first place? He dropped everything for you, and then you go after Gage. I mean Gage is hot, but you had Logan,” she says his name as if he were worth his weight in gold.

“And now Michelle’s leached herself onto him,” Carly opens her mouth with gaping concern as if they have a genuine dilemma on their hands.

“She’s with him,” I interject. “They’re totally an official couple.” I hope Chloe was right about Michelle’s babysitting status. As much as I hate the thought of Michelle actually loving on Logan’s perfect body, I’d send Holden into the transport once again a little sooner than anticipated if he hooked up with Carson or Carly—God forbid
both
.

They leave in a huddle to go over a ‘solid game plan’.

I need to get Logan back in his body and fast.

***

I set out to check in on Mia and Melissa, as I’m clearly the only responsible adult in the vicinity, but they’re both suspiciously absent from their bedroom. I trot downstairs to canvas the area. A sea of bodies has filled in the nooks and crannies with arms and legs intertwined. This is quickly becoming a house of ill repute, which doesn’t surprise me since most of Ellis’ parties end up with half the downstairs rooms occupied for any number of carnal misdeeds. The lights are all out, as deemed mandatory per Paragon’s unofficial party guide.

I wander into the darkened kitchen and find Ethan and Holden hanging out with a bunch of guys playing a drinking game with the requisite red Solos’. I go over and snatch the cup out of faux Logan’s hand.

“There’s plenty more where that came from. Get your own, Sis.” Holden’s eyes widen for a second as he catches himself in the gaff.

“Where’s Michelle?” No sign of Miller. I don’t like this one bit.

“She went out with Lexy—said she’d be right back.”

“Oh good,” I breathe a sigh of relief.

“They’re getting your least favorite person,” he gives a greasy smile. “How did you not kill her?”

Coming from Holden it’s practically a compliment. And, oh crap, now they’ll never be back.

“You should text Michelle and tell her Chloe’s a big girl,” I suggest. “She can take care of herself. Besides, she seems pretty into you, and there are a lot of guys out on the prowl tonight. I’d keep her close if you know what I mean.” I shrug when all I really want to do is shudder.

“I’ve always had a thing for Michelle.” Holden is spellbound at the mention of her name.

“Beautiful girl.” I hate having this conversation with Holden while he hides behind Logan’s face. It kills me on a primal level.

“You think there’s a chance for us again? You know, me and you?” The question is laced with honesty and for a moment it really does feel like Logan.

“Um,” I’m pretty sure stringing Holden along is a bad idea. “I think we had what we had,” I lose myself in his fiery eyes and a twinge of sadness quivers through me. “Look, I gotta go. Do me a favor—stick with Michelle. You’ll lose her forever if you cheat on her.”

I know.

That’s exactly how I lost Gage.

Chapter 44

Hot Water

I search high and low for Mia and Melissa and can’t find them anywhere. I’m on the verge of an all out panic, thinking all kinds of horrible things. They could have been kidnapped, dragged into the forest by a pack of wild wolves—Marshall style, or God forbid, Ezrina hacked them to pieces in an effort to drive home the fact she’s pretty damn serious about getting a new trial. Or maybe Mia did something stupid like expose the butterfly room to Melissa—and all of West Paragon Junior high is busy indulging in some serious hormonal debauchery up there.

                 
I head out to the front yard where hoards of people are amassed in small groups. I don’t have the time, or initiative, to properly eavesdrop on a single conversation, which is fast becoming one of my favorite pastimes at one of these events. Without Gage I have no life, the closest thing I get is listening to others brag about theirs’.

A seam of light escapes from under the garage door. I head around to the side and let myself in. About a dozen different faces turn in my direction at once. Mia, Melissa, and the who’s who of Paragon minor sit in a circular arrangement, most of them in old lawn chairs we dragged out from L.A. where it actually made sense to own furniture specifically designed to occupy the yard. Here it works as a body buffet for the garage and, come to think of it, this all looks rather cultish, what with them all in black and hovering in a circle.

“I’m going out,” I announce stupidly.

“See you later,” Mia says, giving a quick wink. There’s a boy holding her hand,
holding
it. Badly I want to go Ezrina on him and detach his appendage at the wrist—teach him a lesson for touching my baby sister, but don’t. Really I should squash this relationship with the Armistead kid before either one of my sisters gets too fixated. The last people on the planet I want to be even
quasi
related to are the Armisteads.

I head back out and smack into Ellis.

“Love honey,” he says it seductively with a wet smile on his lips, and for a minute I think I’m going to have to duck his unwanted advances.

“Are you high?” Should I be asking? I really don’t see the point anymore.

“The only high I participate in is at W.P.” His demeanor sharpens. “No, I’m not high.”

“Oh,” I laugh. “West Paragon. I get it.”

“Been clean two weeks.” He pushes his cheeks high into a grin.

“Ellis!” I bounce on my feet and pull him in. His sweater is still laced with the indelicate scent. I think it’s time he started bathing in cologne like the rest of the male population. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah, well, I do what I can.” He sweeps his eyes over me. “So, you and Gage really aren’t together anymore?”

“It would appear.” I can’t stand the thought of Gage so thoroughly pissed at me, enveloped in hatred, hot as a fire. Then again, Gage is too generous to hate anyone. I’ve disappointed him, and that’s the worse feeling of all. “Have you talked to him?”

“Nope.” He catches my gaze and holds it. Ellis has soft eyes, a deep dimple on the right cheek. And, although I’d never admit it out loud, there’s something about Ellis that has the power to make me melt.

“So you wanna hang out some time?” He lights up with hope. “You know, just you and me?”

This is going to get awkward quick.

“Yes, I totally want to hang out with you some time. Maybe next weekend we can catch a bite to eat?” Like at the Althorpe dinner. I just don’t want to come out and say it quite yet. The plan is to grovel to Gage, first.

“Alright,” Ellis bobs into a smile.

Besides, catching a bite with Ellis is the epitome of innocence. If I’ve got one platonic male relationship, it’s right here.

Ellis offers up a knuckle bump as he makes his way over to a girl sporting a spray tan gone awry, and I head upstairs to the butterfly room.

Time to fly to the falls with Logan.

***

The walls of the tiny secret room ignite and shimmer as thousands of paper butterflies come to life. Logan appears in his blue translucent state before filling in with muscle and sinew, fully formed flesh dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans.

“Nice show,” I pick up his hand and press it against my cheek. “You’re a punctual little spook.”

“You’re a funny girl, Skyla.” he looks mildly amused at the barb. “One day things won’t be looking so great for you, and I’ll be the one with the sense of humor.” He pulls my hand over and brushes his lips over my knuckles, sweeps a fire line right up my arm. “Forgive me, but I’ve been thirsty for you ever since I woke up this morning.”

The thought of Logan thirsting for me, wanting to be near me, presses over me with a heavy ache.

“So, are we off to the falls?”

“You have a bathing suit?” He nods with a mild level of concern. Logan wants to follow all the rules with me now. No more swimming in our underwear lest we be splayed across all six screens at the Cineplex.

Logan takes up both my hands and closes his eyes. I take him in this way, he looks lonely, vulnerable, and strangely as if he’s praying for me—to me.

A grey film fills the air. It’s bitter cold outside. It takes several blinks for me to realize we’ve morphed over to the falls.

“Did we just light drive? Cause if not, I’m amazed at the mad skillz you’ve acquired postmortem.”

“Not a stitch in time was removed,” his bare chest comes into view. Logan stands before me in a pair of grey swim trunks.

“It’s freezing here.” My teeth chatter like castanets.

“I promise, you won’t be cold.” Logan reaches down into a small pool of water that sits in an alcove, tucked away at the quiet end of the lake. His hand floats over the surface, ignites a sizzle in the small circumference. The water glows an electric sky-blue before defusing to a deeper shade of sapphire, the exact color of the night sky back in L.A. “Warm as a bath,” he announces, offering me his hand.

I pull off my sweater and jeans, exposing the most modest one-piece that my closet had to offer. I dip my foot in the water before committing to hypothermia, but it’s warm, super warm.

“I’m without words,” I say, getting into the water with him. I sink down to my chin and scoot into him on a rock that acts as a bench. “I kind of like Logan the magician.”

“I’m worse than a magician. I’m an illusion, Skyla,” he whispers it in secret, so the moon, the stars that hide like cowards behind a slippery veil of God’s own breath won’t hear. “This is temporal. If nothing happens soon, I’ll be taken to paradise.”

“Will I see you again?” I hold my breath, afraid that I might already know the answer.

“There is a chasm. You cannot come to me, and I can’t go to you.” A desperate sorrow blooms in his voice, and it devastates me to hear it.

“What about Giselle? She obviously knows her way around a chasm or two. She pops up all the time.”

“Your mother is using her, assigning her missions. She has a free pass for now.”

The thought of my mother using someone makes her out to be no different than the Sectors and Fems. If I wasn’t slightly pissed at the entire lot of them, I’d be in awe of their utilitarian efforts.

“You have any luck getting her attention?” I ask hopeful.

“Nothing.” He fully submerges himself before springing up and with his hair slicked back. It reflects a wash of moonlight over his head like a halo. Logan is luminescent, dead or alive his excellence thrives. I reach over and touch his baby fine hair, his cheek, his lips. It all feels so real. He couldn’t possibly be an illusion.

“I never want you to go away,” I whisper. It comes out broken, my voice so ready for tears. “I need you forever.” My stomach explodes with heat when I insert my buzzword reserved for Gage into the equation. But it’s true—no matter how much I don’t want it to be, I need Logan as much as I need Gage.

He cups his hands over my face so soft, so careful and places his lips to my forehead. He pulls back and bears into me with a powerhouse gaze, drops his warm hands to my shoulders. A seductive smile plays on his lips.

“I don’t plan on going away,” his breath sweeps across my arm, ignites a series of goose bumps from the pleasure of his being.

“We are never going to work.” The words bleed out of me hard and unwanted. “It’s not fair that you made me love you.” The first tear falls. I tilt my head, and the salty stream trickles into the line of my lips.

“The faction war,” he whispers it with a hopeless fatigue. “Things happen,” he sighs. “One thing I can tell you for sure—you have a destiny. You can make it easy on yourself and allow the Master to lead you, or struggle, rebel, land somewhere in the vicinity but never, by a long shot, experience the treasure and the glory he has in store for you.”

“And the Decision Council, they play into this?”

He gives a gentle nod.

“My mother is shaping my future.” I huff at the thought. “Then why won’t she see me?”

“Not to offend you—or her, but, rumor has it she’s...” he briefly glances upwards. “for lack of a better word, a thorny rose.”

“Could have fooled me.” Figures. I land this ultra amazing unearthly mother, and she turns out to be a celestial spitfire. “I need her mercy, Logan.” I don’t dare tell him why.

“Skyla?” His eyes ignite with worry as he holds up our conjoined hands. “Tell me everything—tell me now.” There’s a slight mark of irritation in Logan’s tone. It’s bad enough to have Gage and Nev pissed off at me, I don’t plan on adding Logan’s name to the ever-expanding list, so I do. I tell him everything.

He stares at me a really long time. At first I think he’s trying to think up a way to get me out of the body swap with Ezrina, since we can both safely surmise that the Justice Alliance sure as hellfire isn’t going to renege on their almighty covenant slash eternal punishment, but, instead, he gazes deeper into me, touching the nexus of my existence with his heartfelt sorrow. Logan leans in and bumps his forehead to mine, his nose, his lips, closes his eyes as a thin seam of tears lines his lids.

“You love me,” he whispers in a long strained hiss like steam from a kettle.

“Of course, I love you,” I pull him in by the waist until our bare stomachs touch, sending a wave of pleasure swimming up my spine. “I’ll always love you.”

Our silent, elongated tears stream into the warm inky water. Our bodies move in a macabre slow dance as a gentle whirlpool pushes us along.
 

 
 
I love Logan with an undying passion—one I know that may never get quenched even after the faction war.

There’s a time and place for us, Skyla. Not here, not now.
He doesn’t open his eyes or acknowledge the thought.

My heart comes alive like a jungle drum. Somehow, for some unknown reason, my mother has threaded two very different hearts alongside mine.

His eyes open and he sinks low into the water, takes me in under the umbrella of fog like I were the most exotic pearl. “Never give up on us, Skyla,” it comes out a secretive warning. “Do what you have to do with Gage, but please, don’t ever stop loving me.”