Expel (48 page)

Chapter 84

Confusion is Nothing New

The twinkle lights gleam overhead like intoxicating beacons from some far off unknowable city. I blink into the ceiling several times before I realize I’m once again standing in the ballroom. Logan warms over me like a dream, and I stroke my abdomen as though I were carrying his child.

I know who is responsible for this terrible act of injury that took his life.

Gage sits at a table off in the corner with Brielle by his side. He’s got one leg kicked up on a chair and he’s checking his phone intermittently while carrying on a conversation with her.

This isn’t the best time to go over and share personal space with Gage especially since Holden is on red alert for any suspicious activity on my part but, at the moment, I don’t really give a shit.

“Are you OK?” I shout into Brielle, posturing myself so that I look like I’m still putting the freeze on Gage in the event Holden should decide to make use of Logan’s brain cells.

“I’m thinking about ditching out early. Like after they crown you,” she winks.

I laugh, pretending to drop my purse on the floor between the two of them. Gage bows to meet me.

“You look gorgeous,” he rasps, pressing a searing kiss on my cheek as we stoop near the carpet.

“Thank you. You look amazing, yourself.” I dot his lips with mine. “And, by the way, it was Holden in the car that night,” I latch onto his gaze. “He wanted a body and he arranged to get one himself.”

“Shit,” Gage is indignant. “After the ceremony get him outside, alone, by the water. I’ll meet you there. Do
not
attempt to do this by yourself, Skyla.” I’ve never heard Gage take such a demanding tone before.

“OK,” I rise to my feet and stride out the Madison Lights Ballroom.

***

I open the door to the ladies room just as Chloe grapples her way out. Her face is pale, and she startles at the sight of me.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant like I didn’t suspect for a minute she was in my mother’s bedroom trying to start a fake forever with Gage.

“The mirror,” the words tumble from her lips.

“What about the mirror?” I pull her back inside as a mob pushes their way through. Chloe must have had the clown Fem scare of a lifetime. I try to hide a wicked grin.

“I went…and,” she shakes her head like an apology. “Never mind.” She marches out of the restroom chin up and stoic as if she had just come to her senses.

Whatever Chloe saw in that mirror, jolted her, bled the color from her face and sent her packing for prom. The last time she went in Demetri’s mirror she lingered for weeks, I had to extricate her like dragging a child out of an amusement park. Something tells me this was no wonderland where she ruled the roost.

I still find it hard to believe Chloe wasn’t responsible for the accident. I guess everything that’s wrong in this world is not directly related to Chloe Bishop.

It just feels like it.

***

I watch Chloe and Holden’s every move. Not exactly how I envisioned spending prom. I try to watch Gage, too, but he’s pretty much in the seat next to Brielle, and they’re switching back and forth between a lazy conversation and staring into their cell phones. I don’t know who will call either of them. I’m the primary person in both their lives, and I’m standing right here.

Is everyone rightfully full of hatred and loathing?
Marshall appears by my side.

I touch my bare thigh to his dangling fingers. I doubt anyone will notice because it’s so freaking crowded in here. There are so many damn people sardined inside this place, I swear we’ve broken the fire code three times over. And where in the hell are all these people coming from? There seems to be way more than when we first started out.

I’m full of loathing and hatred,
I offer.
Gage is downright pissed.
I give a depleted smile.
Lucky for us, we’re killing Holden before the night is through.

Why do you insist on trusting Gage?
Marshall is clearly miffed by the concept.
How do you know he won’t botch the resurrection at the last moment because just perhaps, he really does prefer the Pretty One dead?

Gage? He doesn’t want Logan dead and he’s totally trustworthy.
I glance over at him patting Brielle on the stomach, and suppress the joy surging within me.
Gage would give his life to save Logan—and me. He’s an altruistic being in everyway. He might even do something foolish to save yours if it came right down to it. He’s a lover in every capacity,
I say.

Do Tell.
Marshall gives a long blink of disgust.

His head turns abruptly.

Marshall’s full attention has been waylaid by something on the other side of the room.
You must pardon the intrusion. I’ll speak with you soon.
He speeds off towards a door that leads to the back, dissipates from view quick as smoke.

Something is happening.

I turn to find both Holden and Pierce headed in this direction.

Shit! Why would Holden so obviously be hanging out with his late not so great brother? And heading towards
me
of all people?

I duck out in the same direction Marshall took off in and run smack into Ethan.

“Hey, you seen Chloe?” He looks over my shoulder as if I were harboring her like a fugitive.

“Nope. Speaking of the witch—when is that great act of revenge you’ve plotted out against her going to unfold? And by the way, I totally don’t believe you.”

“It will, and you should. I’ve put some serious effort jerry-rigging one unforgettable show.” He pushes past me deep into the crowd.
  

I can only hope he’s right. There’s nothing I like more than letting someone else do my dirty work.

“Skyla,” Holden calls, waving at me. Pierce and Nat straggle behind.

Drake and Emily float by, and I slink on over to the two of them.

“Hi!” I say, watching Holden on his last night disguised as Logan from a safe distance. “So how’s it going?” I pan over the two of them. Really I’d love nothing more than to hit Drake over the head with my shoe.

Emily gives a grunt before excusing herself. Emily always looks like she wants to puke in my face, and I can never figure this out. I would totally be Em’s friend if she would let me. She’s the most normal person I know, and considering I’m aware of the fact she can put the future to paper, it’s a pretty bold statement.

“I have a terrible feeling of foreboding,” Drake holds his stomach like he might be sick.

“Don’t say that,” I reprimand. “The last time you said that all kinds of freaky shit happened.”

Marshall pulses by in the opposite direction. “Whatever you’ve got planned, cancel it.” He continues on as if it were an order I should obey.

The music changes speed, bodies churn on the dance floor quick and neurotic. A strong scarf of perfume ties itself around the room in a rainbow of floral scents, vanilla and grapefruit.

I run and catch up with him as fast as my four-inch stilettos will allow.

“What do you mean
cancel
it? I can’t cancel. It has to happened.” I pull Marshall to a stop just shy of the exit.

“I forbid it.” He slits his eyes around the room not bothering to slow his agitation long enough to pay attention to me properly.

“You forbid it?” I straighten, not sure whether to laugh or slap him. “Let me tell you something
buddy
—that falls under the short list of things to never say to your future bride. In fact, it’s the easiest and most assured way of landing yourself an ex Mrs. Dudley.”

His eyes lock onto mine for one brief moment, and he gives a quick nod. “I forbid it.” He marches off in pursuit of something or someone towards the front of the dance floor.

I give a little laugh at the thought of Marshall forbidding me to do anything.

One thing is for damn sure, there’s not a soul on this planet that can stop me from killing Holden tonight.

If they try—
I’ll
forbid it.

Chapter 85

Safety Dance

A puff of white fog, thick as buttermilk, spills in through the open exit door of the Madison Lights Ballroom. It seeps in with its long frosted tendrils, observing the dew of youth as it floats around the dance floor.

A sad song belts out a steady rhythm that wanes, each note pulls out soft as cotton.

I undergo a major analysis of the exits, the structure of the room, the entire framework of the building, in the event Holden should try to escape. Luring him out towards the beach with raunchy promises will be easy. In fact, I’m sure he’ll come up with his own long running list of carnal titillations he’d like to introduce me to but Holden will be long gone before his fantasies take flight.

Ellis comes over and butts his shoulder against mine. “Come on,” he nods towards the dance floor.

“Where’s the future stripper?” I scan the area for his scantily clad date, not that I’m one to talk, or Chloe, or Emily. Oh, hell, we’re all wearing some sort of ass enhancing apparatus, especially Chloe who sparkles like a hazmat signaling device—as she should.

“She passed out. Her friends rolled her under a table for safekeeping.”

“Nice.” Those girls from East have an amazing code of ethics.

“Last chance,” he invokes the offer once again.

“Sure,” I take Ellis’ soft warm hand and let him lead me through a maze of swaying bodies. We land behind Ethan and Chloe. She glitters under the faded house lights with the prowess of fire in a dim-lit forest. Chloe is a blaze all her own.

I rest my head on Ellis’ chest—try to ignore the fact that his cologne is overpowered with the scent of something far more illegal. I wonder what a life with Ellis would be like? I’m sure we’d live close to the beach, well, probably on it—homeless. Our children would run around barefoot all the time because we couldn’t afford shoes. I can see them clearly, two little girls with cotton candy hair, dirty faces scalded from the sun, parched cracked lips. I shake the thought away, imagine children with Gage instead—dark haired boys with bright blue eyes, dimples you could ladle soup out of.

The dress warms around my body unreasonably. Either Logan is getting antsy, or he wants a demonstration of what
our
children would look like. I envision a blonde goddess of a girl who could rule the universe with her looks alone. Logan can rule an empire with his smile. The dress tingles, ignites a happy vibration of joy in the same vein as Marshall.

The music comes to an end. The houselights brighten before dimming to pitch again. A spotlight covers the stage and Marshall chokes the life out of a microphone before releasing it from the stand.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Paragon’s finest esteemed schools,” he hums into the mic. “I would like to draw your attention to the candidates of the royal court. Would the junior nobility of the evening please step up and take your places as we announce the victors of tonight’s festivities.”

“I guess that’s me,” I pat Ellis on the chest before heading towards the stage.

Holden flies at me like a magnet, drips a kiss off the side of my face as if that might somehow secure a win. The polls are over I want to tell him, but refrain since he’s in a good mood.

“Time to end the drought.” He slithers his hand up and down my back before reaching underneath my dress, landing open palmed on my behind.

I jump out of reach and give a tempered smile. I’d slit his throat if he weren’t wearing Logan like a jacket.

 
“I’m still trying to get my mother to grant you your powers back,” I shrug. “So I guess I lose in the interim.”

He twists his lips. “I’ll let it slide just this once. No use in letting a perfectly good hotel room go to waste. But get on that tomorrow. It sucks not being Celestra.”

“I’ll get right on that.” As if.
  

He takes my hand, and we make our way onto the stage. I squint into the crowd for Gage and Brielle. It’s so close now. It’s almost time to bring back Logan. Nothing can go wrong. My chest heaves in anticipation until I spot them standing near the front. I press out a nervous smile before focusing back on Marshall.

Skyla
. My name rattles through the crowd.

Ezrina.

Shit! She must know I’ve got a life that depends upon me, a soul literally wrapped around my person.

Now
. Her voice echoes, louder coming from my left. And there she is.

Double shit!

Ezrina is covered in a black velvet cloak, nothing but a shag of wild hair spraying out from under her hood like a tumbleweed locked in flames.

“I need my mother,” I speed the words into Marshall so fast I don’t realize my lips are level with the microphone until I hear my voice boom across the facility.

The crowd ignites in laughter.

Again—
shit
.

In due time
. Marshall assures.

“You’re effing embarrassing me,” Holden pulls me back. “Stop being such a baby.”
   

A drum roll purrs over the speakers. Marshall reads off a list of names from East before crowning their junior king and queen. A pretty girl with a familiar face and a tall boy with broad shoulders share a brazen kiss, their crowns hang precariously from their person.

“We should totally do that,” Holden whispers.

“Do what?”

“Kiss like that.”

Gah! That was a nasty kiss. It looked like she was trying to suck a snake out of his mouth just to save him. No thanks.

“I prefer a peck on the cheek in public,” I’m quick to relay. “You know, save the good stuff for later.”

“So you’re a good girl.” He leans in seductively with Logan’s immaculate features. “I’ll have you on your knees in less than an hour.”

“Can’t wait.” I’m going to use my knees all right. Something in me reverts, and I bite down on my lip trying to return the seductive favor. “I won’t have time to get on my knees, I’ll be too busy bending over.”
Mother F!
I don’t even know what the hell that implies.

He pulls a single gold key out of his pocket, dive bombs it into my cleavage before shoving his face in and kissing it.

Everything in me freezes.

I shoot a quick look to Gage. His eyes are swollen with anger, his mouth gapes, and for a second I think Gage might jump on stage and kill Holden himself.

 
“The nobility of West Paragon reads as follows,” Marshall booms. “Skyla Messenger and Logan Oliver.”

Holden rights himself just after the spotlight catches him with his face in the Messenger cookie jar.

Marshall clears his throat before continuing, “Chloe Bishop and Ethan Landon, Emily Morgan and Drake Landon. ” Marshall’s smooth voice is a comfort, a strange shelter from the storm that is hurricane Holden. “The junior gentry—your new king and queen of the junior class are…” he bows slightly into the announcement, “Skyla Messenger and Logan Oliver.” A polite applause erupts. I look over at Chloe and Ethan, Emily and Drake almost apologetically. I’m not sure how anyone in their right mind could vote for Logan and me since we weren’t together almost all year long, unless, of course, it was their way of thanking me for providing endless hours of entertainment via Chloe’s generous DVD distribution. I hear they play it on a loop during chess club.

A pair of freshman girls come at us with glittering headdresses, before I can properly observe my tiara, Holden does a faceplant over my lips. I press my hands to his chest to push him away and the dress electrifies, a personified hum emits as it vibrates like an engine. Logan is ready. I carefully unzip the purse and bring the needle to Holden’s chest.

I slit my eyes open just enough and catch Gage taking off through the main entrance with Brielle.

What the heck?

Where is he going? After the crowning we were supposed to lure him outside. We were going to kill Holden together. Didn’t he instruct me under no circumstance was I to pull this off on my own?

My face fills with heat as I finger the needle.

What am I doing? I take a breath as Holden continues to take free roam of my mouth with Logan’s tongue.

Gage is wrong. I can do this on my own.
 

The lights go out. The music stops. A series of gasps circle the room.

I press the needle into Holden’s chest and give a hard shove.

Holden jerks, lets out a sharp cry right into my ear. The houselights go on all the way before dimming down to nothing. The music picks up and the crowd gurgles back to life.

“What the hell was that?” He pats his chest in horror.

I replace the needle back in my purse and slip it behind my back.

Shit. One more second and I could have zapped him off the planet.

I wave a hand in front of him. “Just got my claws sharpened. I’m totally afraid of the dark.”

 
“Shit,” his eyes widen. Holden doesn’t look amused by my professed fear of all things nocturnal.

“Let’s dance,” I nod towards the beach. “You know, in private.”

“Let’s.” He whips us through the crowd at lightning speeds.

A shadow moves outside the door, an orange blaze of hair gives the Fem away.

“In here’s fine!” I pull him back inside so quick it looks like we’re doing the Tango. I place his hands over my hips and begin to sway to the music.

“This is a good start.” His eyes shine a familiar look of desire, and at this moment he looks and feels most like Logan—but he’s not. He’s a far cry from the boy I love.

The dress warms around me like an L.A. afternoon.

I scan the room for signs of Gage, but neither he nor Brielle have returned. Perfect. Why can’t things go right when I need them to? Why does everything have to fall to crap the second I put my hand to anything? I’ll be
lucky
if Gage and I get our forever. Hell—I’ll be lucky if forever
exists
by the time I get through with it.

I reach down and pluck the needle out of my purse, and the small electrical box tumbles right out. I catch it between my elbow and thigh before capturing it safe in my hand.

“What’s that?” Holden backs up and takes a good look at it.

“Speaker,” I hiss. “New speaker I got for Christmas. I don’t go anywhere without it.” I’m quick to shove the heart stopper back inside the sequin satchel before he sees the needle.

The lights cut in and out again, the music fizzles before recapturing its rhythm.

“Let’s get out of here—start our own party,” his hot breath lights a fire across my cheek. “I’ve got the room till ten in the morning.”

“Sure.” I dart around looking for Gage, or Ellis—hell, I’d take Marshall at this point.

My phone goes off. It’s a text from Melissa.

I can’t find Mia. She went in Mom and Dad’s room and never came out.

Crap. Mia must have went into the mirror before Chloe sicked her binding spirit on it.

A surge of bodies push in. Young women and men with an odd sense of style descend upon us, dancing and swirling to a frenetic rhythm all their own.

“Dear God,” I whisper. I recognize those full bustled dresses, those pantaloon knickers peering out from underneath. Handlebar mustaches adorn men who happened to be much too old to attend prom.