“She said there were hundreds of dollars there. How would you feel if I hid hundreds of dollars from you?” He’s still changing colors.
“Well the way you don’t trust banks, it wouldn’t surprise me to find hundreds of dollars inside the mattress!” She yells.
“Why don’t you rip it open and find out!” He matches her velocity.
Mia and Melissa are holding each other huddled on the couch, crying, while Drake stands mystified in the hallway.
“What the hell’s going on?” he asks.
I pluck the paper off the floor and carry it over to him.
“Here’s some light reading for you courtesy of daddy.”
Stupid demented document.
I will never forget this.
***
How my mother can get up and leave with that monkey man stuns me. I let Logan in right through the front door, and lead him up to my bedroom. Both Mia and Melissa are locked in their room due to the high frequency of ‘ghost like noises’ the house has been experiencing according to them.
I lock the bedroom door behind us and set my comforter on the floor for us to sit on. I have the rug, but I haven’t vacuumed since we moved in, and I can hardly stand to walk on it barefoot let alone sit on it with Logan.
He lies flat on his back and lets out a groan.
“Hey, you’re not sitting.”
“Am I supposed to be sitting?” He glances up at me.
“Yes. It’s rule number, five hundred sixty-nine. When a boy enters the house illegally, he must be in a vertical position at all times.”
“Does that mean my pants have to be buckled, too?” He gives a loose grin.
“I’ll get you a copy of the aforementioned document so you can go over it with your attorney later.” I wave it over him like a flag.
“I broke my back on the field today. Is there an exemption for broken backs?”
“Oh yes, it’s under the no mercy law. Tad will personally kick you in the balls when you’re down, and you’ll probably be forced to like it.”
“Not funny.” He hikes up on his elbows. “I have something you might like though.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Anything that doesn’t have to do with Tad is officially considered good news.
“The results of your blood test are in.”
45
Proof
Dr. Barron Oliver, the sign reads, as Logan and I await the test results in his office.
“Sorry for the delay,” he says, taking a seat behind the large mahogany desk.
He’s got a white lab coat on and a pair of spectacles. He twitches his lips as he silently reads the document shielded by a manila envelope.
Logan and I wait in eager silence of the long coming news. Whatever it says in that report, however much a percent I am Celestra, or even if I have mixed blood, it was a gift from my father. How I wish he could have been here with me, so we could discover our family secrets together. I bet he didn’t have any idea about all of the factions and variety of gifts.
“Good news.” He looks up at us over his lenses. “First about that moisture sample.” He takes off his glasses and bites down on one side. “Unusual amount of plasma.” He ticks his head at Logan as though the two of them are speaking some special language.
“What’s plasma?” I ask.
“What kind?” Logan taps his hand on the table.
“Plasma is the fundamental liquid component found in blood.” Barron says before looking over at Logan. “It was human.”
“What the heck is human plasma doing floating around my house? Is my house really haunted?”
“You’re a spiritual being, Skyla. Don’t you live in your house? Haunted is a relative term these days.”
“I don’t spray my plasma all over the place.” I shake my head. “Excuse me, but I’m a little more than freaked out. You think it was Chloe?” I ask Logan.
“No.” Barron answers for him. “It was more than likely one of the Fem minions doing the bidding of the Counts I gather.”
“Why would they bother?”
“Why would they bother?” He parrots, amused at my line of questioning. “They would bother my dear”—he pauses to pick up the results from the blood sample— “because you happen to be a rare and wanted species. Your levels came in as pure.”
“How can I be pure if my mother’s not a Celestra?”
He shakes his head. “It’s impossible. Your mother must be a Celestra for you to be a pure breed.”
I swallow nervously. I don’t know which I dislike more, the fact I’m being compared as though I were a horse, or the fact my mother is indeed a Celestra and finds the need to hide it from me even after I grilled her.
“Pure.” Logan appears bewildered by the news. He looks at his uncle sternly, and they share a few brief moments worth of solemn expressions.
“It’s not good news is it?” I think the answer is obvious. In a perfect world there would be more Celestras, and the Counts wouldn’t feel threatened.
“Normally it wouldn’t be good news Skyla, but Logan tells me you have my mother’s pendant. Wear it. It’s the only one of its kind.”
“The only one?” Panic shifts in slow boiling circles just beneath my chest.
“It’s been passed down from the ancients—the heroes of old, the men of renown.” He presses into a polite smile. “It needs to be gifted to you for it to work. And Logan here generously gifted it to you at his own expense.”
I gulp down a dry pocket of air.
“I’m very thankful.” Mournful, is more like it. I’d love to blame Logan for not highlighting the finer points of Celestra 101, but it’s my fault for not heeding his warning to begin with. If I knew he was going to be right all of the time, I would have taken him much more seriously.
“So now that you have the pendant I don’t feel too bad sharing this last bit of unexpected news.” He breaks out in a genuine smile.
“What?” Logan leans in impatient.
“The blood sample has been stolen. There was a break in at the lab—after I ran the tests of course. It doesn’t surprise me. Those Fem’s can smell Nephilim blood from thousands of miles away. Put them on the right scent and it’s not a challenge anymore.”
“What do you mean, put them on the right scent?” I think I know, but I want to hear it from him.
“It means someone directed them to you first, then they went hunting for your blood. They probably found it in minutes. Decimated the lab.”
“That means they’re already after her,” Logan says.
“They will be until she dons the pendant.” He turns back to me. “And after that too, waiting for it to disappear from your neck. Oh, they would have a field day with you. You’re young and beautiful. They might even try to breed you with their kind to empower their gene pools.”
“Breed me? I’m not some animal you can lock up in a cage and force to have a litter of babies.”
“You are if they catch you. It’s a part of the price of being pure.”
A part of me wants to ask if by pure he means virgin. Because if my virginity ups my value in any way then by all means I’ll do whatever it takes to save my life. But I know better.
“Put that pendant on as soon as you get home.” Logan is stern and direct with me.
He chose my safety over his, just like he chose Chloe’s before me, and I’ve gone and ruined it. I’ll be dead soon just like Chloe.
I’ll tell my mother. She’ll hire a bodyguard for me. I’ll pull the money out of my college fund, only I don’t have one, and Tad would never agree to that.
Face it. I’m a dead girl walking.
46
Change
Turns out Mia and Melissa can’t keep a secret.
Tad and my mother have ‘somehow’ been apprised of the fact Logan was in my room and that I disappeared with him for several hours.
Since their initial tirade, they’ve been hitting websites like e-realestate.com pretty hard with various parts of t
he country on display—as in moving. They’re in a total frenzy trying to find permanent placement before school starts in two weeks. Tad’s already talking about an all girls boarding school for me. Not that it would much matter without Logan.
It’s worse than death knowing I’ll be away from him. I’d rather be eaten by a thousand rotting Fem’s than leave him here in Michelle’s eager clutches.
I watch as the fog billows out the window in silent abundant bursts. The trees stand stoic in its wake, like dark foot soldiers at the ready, just waiting for a command. I don’t think we’ve seen the sun but twice the entire time we’ve been here. The thought of moving to some cheerful sunny location depresses the hell out of me. I like the moody, grey days. I like the cool of the fog on my skin, how you can inhale the day, swallow it down and make it become a part of you.
I see Brielle waving me over from her balcony so I head over without explanation to Tad or my mother. It’s not that I’m making a point to be rude, it’s just that I’ve sworn an oath to myself to never speak to either one of them again. And if they move, I won’t speak at all. There’s a comfort in my silence. It might be the one thing in my life I’ll ever be able to control. They can try to shake my vocal cords out of me if they want, but I’m not using them. I’ll be known as the mute girl forever more.
“Hey!” Brielle’s face contorts with panic. “What’s wrong?” She takes my head on her shoulder, pats it softly from behind.
“They’re going to move,” I hum into her shoulder. Her shirt smells faintly of bleach and a nice brand of softener my mother used to buy pre-Tad. It’s a frivolous expense I heard him once tell her. I wish she would let him know he was too, of the emotional variety.
“Who’s going to move?” Brielle sounds distressed as we take a seat on the dirty wicker bench.
“We are.” I thumb back at the house. “Can I move in with you?” I ask hopeful, knowing full well my parents wouldn’t allow it. I doubt at this point I could even spend the night, which reminds me, I should bring her a copy of the legal document they drew up on my behalf. I bet her mother would choke on her soy latte if she laid eyes on it. She might even spring for a lawyer in an effort to help me get legally emancipated from such barbaric circumstances.
“Yes. That would be a blast. And for sure my mom wouldn’t care about whatever has them miffed. Don’t your sisters love it here? And what about Drake? You can’t take Drake.” She spreads her hand in front of her in a mild panic. I watch mesmerized as her long pale fingers melt into the fog. I’ve never noticed before what pretty fingernails she has. Mine are so brittle they never make it past my skin.
“My sisters hate the house. They think it’s haunted. And Drake’s a moron. Nobody listens to him.” True and true. I take the blame for my sisters, but I stand by what I said about Drake. At the end of the day though, he’s not half bad, plus Brielle likes him and I like Brielle.
“Oh ho-ney!” She rubs my back over and over until her mother comes out to join us.
Brielle fills her in on the situation.
“Well you just got here. They need to give the place a shot. Its no wonder they think you’re acting out. You’re just trying to piece together this new life they gave you. I bet no one asked your opinion when they left L.A.”
Actually they did, but now that I think back, when they asked if I was all for the move it was probably just a rhetorical question.
“Natalie’s having an end of summer party. Her parents have a beach house on the coast and she does this big bonfire every year. You’ll have to come. I’ll take you at gunpoint if I have to.” Brielle gives a small laugh.
“Gunpoint?” I muse. “It might be the only way.”
***
I call Logan with the devastating news. He doesn’t say anything for a real long time, and it makes me wonder if he’s still on the other line.
“It’s my fault,” he offers.
“No trust me. Everything is my fault these days.”
“I can’t believe this.” He blows out a breath. “I can visit.”
“I doubt they’ll let you.”
“We’ll apply to the same universities.”
“And if we don’t get in the same ones?”
“Paragon has an awesome community college.”
I perk up a little. We make a depressing round of small talk before hanging up. It’s probably better that I’m away from Paragon. I’m a walking time bomb. I reach over and snatch Chloe’s diary off my nightstand. I pull it in close to my chest and let it warm against my body.
I swore to her I’d never read it. I’m not really afraid of Chloe haunting me or even showing up in my dreams anymore. It’s like we’re old friends. I don’t think I’d mind it.
I roll around on my bed as sleep eludes me.
Wish I had that pendant. Wish I could give it back to Logan—keep it at the same time.
Wish it were Tad instead of me that this nebulous enemy was trying to kill.
47
Spree
Brielle’s mom, Darla, has become the new go-between for me and my parents. She somehow gets them to let me have a sleepover with Bree tonight and attend Natalie’s party tomorrow. Clearly, she could sell snow to an Eskimo and sand to an Arab. The only concession being, that she would be present the entire time. It’s not her fault she forgot she had a date with her boyfriend. But she trusts us. It’s nice to be treated like an adult by somebody.
“What exactly does your mom do?” I ask fanning my nails back and forth over my head. I convinced Brielle we should both have black fingernails for tomorrow in expression of our deep, deep mourning over me leaving. I actually heard mom say she was glad she didn’t unpack the last of the boxes and how much she didn’t look forward to starting the process all over again.
“She works in real estate. She wasn’t the one who sold your parents the house, but she was amazed they bought it sight unseen.”
“Tad’s stupid that way,” I say chipping off a dried bit of paint from off the fleshy part of my thumb.
“You really think they’re going to send you to an all girl’s school?” Brielle would probably have some sort of hormonal meltdown if she had to do that. It would be like sequestering the fox from the chicken coop.
“If it costs money, no. Tad can squeeze pennies from his ass. And he won’t spend a single one of them on me.” I pull my knees up and smooth out my long white nightdress. “I found Chloe’s secret room.” I wonder why she hadn’t told me about it herself, but I figured maybe it was too painful, too many memories, or that it was their space.
“Are the butterflies still there?” She stops fanning her nails midair.
“All of them.”
A steady set of heavy footsteps rises slowly up the stairs.
Brielle and I head into panic mode and sit up, each in our own corner of the bed.
“Who’s there?” She shouts.
I break free from my paralysis and slam the door shut before they have a chance to answer.
“There’s no lock!” Her voice shrills out to nothing.
I pan the area, but there’s no dresser, not one thing of great heft that could keep someone out. A pair of black oversized scissors garners my attention. I leap over to the desk and arm myself.
A slow methodical knock, rasps against the door.
Brielle lets out a bloodcurdling scream before ducking under her pillow.
My heart thumps unnaturally, like a thousand wild horses trampling through my bloodstream. I try to steady my breathing, try to ignore the thought of mom and my sisters mourning me at my funeral—Logan—his disappointment in me when he realizes I don’t have the pendant. All I know for sure is I’m going to kill the beast on the other side of the door. I’m going to start stabbing and not stop. I’m going to show the Counts that I’m willing to fight. I’ll fight harder than Chloe, if she even fought at all. I’ll make it impossible for them to keep me for two weeks alive. And I promise on my father’s grave, no one is going to breed me like a dog in
a kennel.
The door swings open and a tall man in a trench coat stands erect and threatening less than a foot away. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I plant the first puncture deep in his flesh right above his stomach—dead center.
He doubles over and lets out a yell as he falls to his knees. I jab wildly at his back, but I can’t penetrate his leather coat. Before I can go for his eyes, Darla shows up and binds my wrist with her hands, while joining me in a series of wild primitive screams.
“Shut up! Shut up!” I hear her shout. “Darrell!” She rolls him over and he lets out a groan before passing out. She looks right at me. “Call 911. I think you just killed my boyfriend.”
***
Tad and Mom sit stunned across from me at the kitchen table.
The police officers actually commended me for defending myself so well. Since we weren’t expecting anyone, naturally we thought he was an intruder. Of course I thought I knew he was a Fem hired out to kill me for my pure angelic blood, but I don’t share any of that information because it sounds ludicrous, and the psych ward at Paragon Hospital isn’t exactly where I want to sleep tonight, or any night ever.
“Were the two of you drinking?” Tad asks rather morbidly.
“No. I don’t drink.”
“Smoking weed?” He continues with his exceptionally calm inquisition.
“I don’t do that either. And no we weren’t doing anything, but our nails.” I hold up my black smudged fingertips trying to ignore the fact I probably still have blood encrusted in them.
“If he decides to press charges, this could go on your record.” My mother is in a genuine state of panic.
“He’s not going to. The officer I talked to said it was self-defense, and I won’t get in trouble. Besides, they said it probably wasn’t more than a flesh wound.”
Tad shakes his head. “It’s like you’ve become this huge liability overnight. Did it ever occur to you to ask who it was?”