Expel (41 page)

Chapter 73

Torment in the Transfer

Logan suggests we take a walk.

We head outside the same way I came in. Although this time it’s uneventful in nature, no sign of Demetri the cowardly clown, and we draw no interest from the throngs of people walking arm in arm, rushing around like an army of hungry ants.

“My Mom thinks I’m engaged,” I say, studying the fat low hanging moon. The purple night sky illuminates in pink and iridescent blues, so reminiscent of the Soulennium it must all be related somehow, but how and why?

“Are you engaged?” He asks, hushed, as if he were on the verge of making a grand discovery.

“Maybe,” I shrug into it. I’d hate to deny anything about Gage, even if we’re not at that point yet.

I tell him about the Fem that’s been following me, the strange sight of it unzipping itself, revealing Demetri underneath.

“It’s symbolic. They want you to fear him most.”

“Who are
they
?”

“Fems, Sectors, your mother. It could be anybody.” Logan wraps an arm around my waist as we head off the cobbled path. We take off towards a large lake, black as oil with a set of peaceful waterfalls that release into it at the far end. “Does this look familiar?” He tilts into me. The moon kisses him with its lavender beams, accentuates his perfectly carved features and blesses that hint of a smile Logan always saves for me. “Three falls. Marsh to the left.”

“Oh my, God,” I breathe. “It’s a replica of the Falls of Virtue.”

“That’s right.”

We sit on a mound of soft grass, blades as thick as fingers. Logan pulls me in and we watch the water shed into the thirsty mouth of the lake, steady as tears. The ground beneath us rises and falls as if the hill we were sitting on was the furry back of some mythological creature, ready to rouse from hibernation. “It’s OK.” Logan rubs his hand up and down my arm.

“I think Marshall’s in love with me,” I say it weak.

“You’re just now figuring this out?” He pulls a wry smile.

“He’s totally convinced we’re going to marry. There’s no doubt in him, he just accepts it like it were the truth.”

Logan inches his head back at the thought.

“I had this dream,” he shakes his head.

“I think I know.”

“You too?”

“I had a vision with Gage,” I take a breath. “And with Marshall.”

“Of me?” His eyes glint in the light. He tucks his chin and tries to hide the smile that wants to erupt in victory. “You were so beautiful.”

I had never seen the way I looked in any of those visions.

“You saw it through a different perspective,” I whisper.

“I saw it through my eyes,” he holds my gaze strong as steel. “You were walking towards me.”

“You think it’s a prophecy?”

“I know it.”

“It’s probably like the one Gage had.” I stop shy of saying it was taken out of context. Saying those words out loud would be rebuking the idea of me ever marrying Gage and that’s one idea I’ll never shoot down. I don’t care how many orators or prophetic visions try to get in my way. Gage and I are going to have our forever. It’s coming. I can feel it.

Logan rattles my hand playfully, gives a halfhearted smile letting me know he heard everything.

“I’m going to get you back, Skyla.” His chest expands with assurance. “I know something else, something that makes dying and living in this hellhole worth every painful minute.”

I stop breathing in anticipation of what might come from his lips next— something wonderful, apocalyptic, a revelation of my future, all of the above. Anything seems possible.

“You love Gage,” he expels softly with tears glistening, “but you love me, too. A powerful, hungry, unstoppable love that deep down, you can never deny. I can see it engraved inside your heart just as it is in mine.” The revelation is just within reach but he won’t give it. Instead, he expounds on the painful truth. I love Gage, and I love Logan.

I fill my lungs with a breath, until it becomes painful not to exhale.

“I do love you, Logan. I love you so much it hurts,” it depresses from my lips like a secret mired in truth and agony. “I’m going to kill you at prom,” it slips from my lips banal, as if death alone were the only way to steer us out of this conversation.

“That means I’m coming back to you.”

“We need a codeword, so I know it’s really you.”

“Happily ever after. It will come.” Logan wraps an arm around my waist.

It takes everything in me not to fall under the spell of this moment. Logan has convinced himself emphatically that we’ll be together, and it’s hard to refute something like that when I’ve had visions that back up his theory.

“Happily ever after?” It sounds loaded.

“It is loaded—with promise.” He dots my cheek with a kiss. “Happily ever after.”
 

***

 
I blip back into my skin at West as if a single moment never went by. I bleed out the rest of the day—work a short shift alongside Gage at the bowling alley without mention of my dimensional jaunt with Marshall and Logan.

Thankfully, Gage was only reprimanded with detention for trying to rearrange Marshall’s bone structure. It seems so lenient, makes me wonder if Marshall had something to do with it. Strange. But, then again, Marshall most likely has a far more severe form of punishment awaiting the love of my life.

A horrible sadness ebbs away at me from the inside until late in the night as I lie on my bed contemplating the absurdity of thinking I could ever know my future, that anyone else could for that matter.

A blue glow warbles next to the bed. A shimmer of light ignites bright as lightning before Giselle appears before me fully formed, warm, in a red cable sweater, jeans and boots.

“You look deep in thought.” Her dimples go off, identical to Gage. “What’s going on?” She hops on the edge of the bed, exploding her perennial good mood all over the place. I don’t like it. It depreciates all of the melancholy I’ve invested in. It begs me to cheer up and match her enthusiasm, but I don’t.

“Just busy,” I shrug, “You know, plotting the revenge of my enemies.” With prom just a week away that’s really where my head needs to be—wrapped completely around Chloe’s demise.

“So are you going traditional? Vat of pigs blood?” Her lips curve as she holds back a laugh.

“I’m thinking something less obvious yet equally as traumatizing. Nothing quick and dirty, that’s too easy for Chloe.”

“Just Chloe?” She raises her dark brows, amused. Giselle looks eerily like the female version of Gage. If Gage and I ever have a daughter I would love for her to look like Giselle in every way.

“I’m entertaining a few violent scenarios for Logan, too,” I say.

“You mean Holden.”

“Correct. Any ideas?”

“Let’s see, you’ve already tried asphyxiation, how about poison? Or a hacksaw to the gut? You could pull his intestines out like unraveling a sweater.” Giselle is rife with lousy ideas tonight.

“I’m thinking something a little less invasive, something without long lasting side effects.”

“Like a heart attack,” she gives a knowing nod.

“A heart attack,” I say, envisioning Logan writhing on the ground gripping his left arm, wracked with excruciating pain.

“An electrical jolt to the ticker,” she suggests. “It could kill instantly. Of course, you’d need another power surge to bring Logan back and lots of CPR. We can’t afford the brain to be deprived of oxygen too long.”

“This is great,” I marvel. Who knew Giselle would be such a wealth of knowledge when it comes to celestial takedowns. “How do I jolt his heart?”

Giselle snaps at attention towards the closet as if she were suddenly distracted. Her face blanches out as she begins to disintegrate.

“I have to go,” her voice melts as her flesh dissolves in a cloud of molecules.

Before I can protest, my mother appears in all of her illuminating glory, an emerald rainbow crowns her from above, casts a strange aura over her long glowing hair.

“Hey, Candy,” I say, completely uninterested in the fact she’s chosen to suddenly insert herself in my bedroom, right here on Paragon. “Aren’t you breaking all eleven commandments by gracing me with your presence?” I salt the words with enough sarcastic inflection to let her know she’s not wanted in these parts.

No wonder Giselle took off. I would too, if I could.

“You disrespect me.” She offers a peaceable smile. It makes me want to trust her, give into the illusion that she might actually care about me.

“Welcome to the parent
hood
. I think I hear violins in the background, and, oh wait, what’s that?” I put my hand to my ear. “Oh, that’s right, I don’t give a rat’s ass.”

“Skyla,” she bemoans with a smile. “I love you, dearly. I command you to lose this adolescent angst at once.”

“Oh,” I tilt my head amused. “You
command
me? You
so
understand how the teenage mind works.” I give a mock salute.

“I understand how your mind works.” She scoots into me and takes up my hand.

“Only because you can read my thoughts,” I snatch my fingers free.

“It’s because I care enough to know you,” she corrects.

“What’s my favorite color?”

“Purple.”

“Blue.” I lie. “Who’s my favorite parent?”

“Your father.”

“And never you.” I fall back onto the pillow and close my eyes.

She lays the cool of her hand over my forehead, strums a peaceful harmony through my being with her simple touch. I can’t imagine that being in paradise feels too different.

“Why don’t you ever help me when I need you?” I don’t open my eyes—just let the current of her affection run deep into my marrow.

“Each time you call out to me I’m by your side, Skyla. Anywhere you are, when you call me, I’ll be there.”

“Ezrina needs a new trial or I’m doomed to walk the netherworld forever wearing her head as a hat. Will you help me?”

“I will always help you.”

“Why do I get the feeling we have a different idea of what that help might be.”

She doesn’t say a word, just curves her lips into a curious smile that lets me know I’m right.

Chapter 74

White Wedding

The rain last night swept away the clouds, the debris from the air, dropped the scales from our eyes so we could see Paragon without its constant shroud of fog. The crystalline morning air exposes all of the island’s secrets, not in whispers as the fog tried to do, but in loud clapping shouts. Our world is naked, the trees, the soil, every rock unimaginably real, distinct. The boldness of the lingering sunshine hardens the edges. It outlines the landscape with rigid lines, makes us aware of its unfriendly borders. It reveals the dirty roadways, the gaping holes between trees like missing teeth. It forces the island to expose itself with its skirt lifted high, bearing its shame for all to see.

Gage and I examine the back of Demetri’s estate with awe and wonder at the transformation that’s taken place. An archway of white roses, an entire army of ladder-back chairs, each adorned with a pink satin sash, tulle running wild in every direction. Long white tables are set out in the distance, complete with a uniformed staff tending to them, nervous as a beehive, as if royalty were expected.

“He really went all out,” Gage pulls me in, buffers me with a quick kiss as Tad and Mom descend upon us.

This garish display of affluence, this embarrassment of riches—this is nothing more than a box trap on a stick. Demetri holds the string in wait, and my mother is the unwitting sparrow.

“You see the cake?” Mom picks up my hand, her fingers cold as an ice bath. Probably something akin to cold feet and hopefully she’ll change her mind. We could pay Ellis’ mother a quick visit once she realizes she could never make the same mistake twice.

“We were just on our way,” Gage pushes gently into the small of my back, guiding me away from the two of them. He’s still really pissed at Tad among other people, Sectors to be exact.

“Not that one,” Mom spins me around to another table with an equally gargantuan confection springing up from the center. “I had the bakery make one up just for the two of you.”

Tad steps in. “It’s all getting a little too real, isn’t it, son,” he says, slapping Gage on the back.

Gage is resplendent in his formal black suit, matching ebony tie. I would much rather it were our wedding and rumors of engagement were swirling around Mom and Tad. I’d squash those like a bug, wash Tad off the windshield of our lives like bird crap.

“Let’s go,” Mom takes up my hand and scissors us over with the steady swish of her dress. It’s a white sheath, luminescent in nature and has goddess topknots over her shoulders. A heavily plunged neckline accents the front and will double as entertainment the second she bends over. She looks more ready for a Toga party than a wedding, but to each his own.

I’m wearing a black dress with white polka dots, one size too small, my rear effectively hanging out the back. It’s similar in size and stature to the soul catcher Marshall will strap me into, come prom. Actually, they didn’t have this dress in my size, but it was so cute I don’t mind the fact I can’t completely inhale from the vice grip it has around my waist. Not that I’ll need help passing out once the preacher reasserts the fact Tad is a permanent fixture in our lives.

“Wow,” I say as we come upon the tower of icing erected like a statue in our honor.

Skyla and Gage
is spelled out in blue gel that bleeds into the perfectly spackled frosting, smooth as glass.

“It’s beautiful.” I swipe my finger down near the bottom and stick an inch of heavenly cream into my mouth.

Mom slaps my hand with her loose glove.

“What?” I say. “Let them eat
your
cake. This one’s just for me and Gage,” I give a devious smile up at him before relaxing into his warm chest.

“You do realize this mix of flour and sugar cost over seven grand,” Tad espouses as if he squeezed every nickel out of his ass himself. “And in the event you’re both unaware, it’s meant to be eaten in a civil manner, not bathed in like some public fountain.”

Gage widens his wicked grin. I dip my finger into the cake again and fill each of his dimples with a mound of sugar.

“Unbelievable,” Tad gurgles.

“Leave them alone,” Mom drags him off in the direction of the house. “They’re in love.”

“I
am
in love with you,” I press my lips into his left dimple. “You’re sweet, you know that?” I wish it really were our wedding. I could care less if an entire army of Fems were in attendance. Starting our forever today would be amazing.

Gage swipes his finger alongside the edge of the cake and smoothes it along my lips.

“You’re sweet, too,” he says, sealing the sentiment with a most delicious kiss.

***

  
   
 
   
                 
Guests fill in nearly every seat. I’m not sure who these people are or if in fact they are people, I just know bodies have arrived in formal attire, large brimmed hats as if it were race day at the Kentucky Derby.

“You see my mom?” Brielle hobbles towards me with her swollen belly shooting out, subtle as a projectile missile.

“Nope.”

A dark shadow glides over the vicinity, offers a respite of shade to the over-bright sky if just for a moment. It’s Nev. He circles the area above the floral archway as if he were offering his blessing, or placing a hex, either or.

Gage nods over in Nevermore’s direction as if I should know what it means.

“Places everyone!” Brielle’s mother flails her arms in hysterics as an entire string section starts in on a beautiful melody.

“Guess we’d better get ready,” Gage presses a quick kiss on my cheek.
Something’s happening
. He pulls back and examines me as if to assert his theory.

“We’d better get in line,” I nod into the words.

Gage is going to walk down the aisle with me—then it will be Drake with Mia, then Ethan with Melissa. This is sort of our couple’s announcement to Paragon high society. It’s doubtful Mom will stay in their good graces. Once they get a whiff of Tad, her socialite days will be over before they’ve truly begun.

We walk across the soft fine lawn and my heels sink into the soil, still soggy from days of rain.

“Ms. Messenger,” Marshall hastens from the sidelines.

Gage and I turn in unison with our arms intertwined.

“Mr. Oliver,” Marshall gives a curt nod before taking a seat near the back.

You look irrepressibly beautiful
. He gives a gentle smile
. It’s unfortunate your stride down the aisle will be precluded with unforeseen events.

“I’m pretty sure no one’s going to stop me,” I whisper.

“Skyla, Gage, you’re up,” Darla motions her finger down the long ivory runner.

“It’s go time,” Gage nudges into me.

Marshall turns to look at me, along with the dozens of people who’ve bothered to show up to this matrimonial mockery.

Hard left Skyla, emerging from the shrubbery
. Marshall nods.

I snap my head over expecting to see Demetri wielding an ax, an assortment of disfigured Fems—but I don’t.

Instead—I see my father.