The entire student body is outfitted with period pieces from the late eighteen hundreds. My corset is dated even for this soiree and yet I’m the only girl here even remotely exposing her neck. Not to mention the gallon of ink Emily used to cover my flesh.
“You must be the whore,” Chloe leans in, slapping her white lace gloves against the palm of her hand. The bitch squad including their honorary member, Brielle, is all wearing pastel dresses with full bustles and turtlenecks, long sleeves. Nat and Kate look like nuns, clad in black down to their ankles. I swear it looks like Marshall swiped this stuff straight out of the haunted closet back at the Transfer.
“Lets see, the only one that looks even remotely normal is Skyla,” Nat rolls her eyes. “And, she happens to be sleeping with the idiot who put on this show. Is it any coincidence that I look like crap, on New Year’s Eve?” She adjusts her ring then quickly hides it beneath her bell shaped sleeve once Marshall appears in the vicinity.
“I think you’re right,” Brielle pins me with an accusatory look. She waves down Drake who’s dressed like a waiter.
“What are you supposed to be?” She shouts over at him. The hum of the crowd sounds like an entire city of people evacuated the 1890’s and landed in this mountainous community.
“I’m the butler,” he fans his handkerchief. “I’m really good at doing it.”
Half of us groan.
“What? The butler always does it.” He holds out his hands as Brielle drags him off.
Then I see him.
Gage looks resplendent in an inky dark suit. He pauses just shy of the entry, panning the crowd with a stony expression. Logan comes up behind him dressed almost identical, and now that I realize it, most all of the guys look the same.
Pierce comes over and squeezes Nat from behind eliciting a harsh squeal. He drives her next to me, baring his fangs over his lips.
“I hear it’s a good night to die.” He gives a hard stare.
“Go right ahead and do it,” I shoot back.
“I’m going to do it alright. I got the role of facilitator.” He gives a short-lived smile. “I have a court date with your name on it set for the nineteenth. I need the charges dropped by then, or all hell is gonna break loose on your ass.”
“Are you threatening me?” Something in me boils at the thought of Pierce telling me what to do and when to do it. My feet twist in the other direction but I don’t. Instead, I grab him by the lapel of his jacket and push him into the corner shaking Nat from his person in the process.
“I gave your stupid brother a body after he attacked me that night at the Falls. I let you suck pints of my blood for your twisted pleasure without skinning you alive. You should be eternally grateful for all of the bullshit I put up with.”
“I’m not doing time because you can’t stop yourself from snapping people in half whenever your brain goes haywire. I didn’t trash those kids and I didn’t touch Nat that day. You and I both know it.”
“You indulged on my neck and left me to die in the cemetery.”
“I’m the damn one who called the police. I told them where to find you,” the thick cords on either side of his neck distend.
I take in a quick breath at the revelation.
Holden appears with his shit-eating grin, folds his hands together as though he were about to play the role of peacemaker.
“I want Chloe away from Gage,” I say. “Help me and I’ll help you.”
“You said you’d take me to see my sister,” Holden snipes. “Make it happen. She might have some useful information that will make Chloe disappear like a bad rash.”
“I’ll take you.” I don’t even hesitate.
“You’ll have to drop the charges first,” Pierce interjects, slapping the back of his hand against Holden’s chest, advertising the fact he’s in control.
“I don’t have to drop anything until Chloe is under my thumb.” And with that I walk away.
The lights flick on and off and Ms. Richards steps up to the microphone. It lets off an annoying bleat before she twists the base. “Everyone has been informed of their roles. Be kind, be courteous, and let the games begin!” Her voice echoes off the walls, and it’s in that moment I catch a glint of a more refined version of what Ezrina might have looked like. She was beautiful once, to someone, and that someone just so happens to be Nevermore. I can’t wait to bring them together again.
The crowd roars back to life. Music plays low on the speakers as bodies mix around the room.
Gage catches my eye from a distance. He navigates the traffic of the crowd, and maneuvers himself forward with Logan right behind him, both hot on a mission. They look morbidly pissed. They have their anger dialed in, all of their attention honed in on this mission.
God, they’re headed right towards Marshall. I pluck off my heels and try to cut them off at the pass before disaster strikes.
Marshall turns, and glints a smile in my direction. He sees me running through the crowd to get to him and whets his lips in anticipation.
Logan and Gage come up behind him. I lunge myself onto Marshall, giving a hard embrace in hopes of staving off the ambush he’s about to undergo.
But I don’t. A hard current rips through Marshall’s body, knocks us both to the ground.
I look up in time to see Gage slipping the spirit sword back in his coat with blood rising on the side of the blade.
Marshall lies over me with his full weight, doesn’t move.
Good God—I think he just killed Marshall.
Chapter Thirty-Two
A Grave Situation
“Dudley’s dead.” Ellis announces rather unmoved by the situation.
Logan and Gage drag him out by the limbs, the party atmosphere continues as though it were all really a game that would eventually come to a conclusion in an hour or two.
I follow them out to the patio and watch in horror as they swing him over the railing.
“Shit! You are out of freaking control!” I try to pull Logan back by the shoulder.
“Drop him,” Gage instructs, and they sail Marshall out a good distance. I watch in horror as his body dissolves in a thicket of branches. A giant swoosh emits from the bowels of the forest, then a hard thud.
My hand flies up to my mouth as I stare off the balcony in disbelief.
“You really killed him.” A sharp chill wraps itself around me as I try to digest the lunacy.
“He’s not dead.” Gage leans over the balcony and stares down a brief moment. His eyes cut through the night as he looks over to me. “I’m not going to stand by and let him defile you whenever the fuck he feels like it. And,” there’s a hurt look in his eyes, “it would be kind of nice if you didn’t go along so willingly.” He’s right, but, truthfully, I’m a little embarrassed to be having this conversation right here in front of Logan. But Logan doesn’t budge. He sticks around for the show and undoubtedly, the aftermath.
“His spirit’s been disabled. The spirit sword only kills humans,” Logan interjects. “He’ll be in pain, but he’ll live. The fall was less than five feet,” he peers over the side as if to establish the fact.
“What do you mean his spirit has been disabled? He lost his powers? He’ll be human?”
“For a few days.” Gage spears me with a look of intent. “Please, Skyla, stay away from him. He’s nothing but a pervert. There is no way in hell I’m going to sit around and let him manhandle you.”
A soft groan emits from somewhere below and Marshall hisses out my name in pain.
“He’s calling me,” I turn towards the stairs.
Gage spins me around.
“Don’t go. Let this bastard learn his lesson for once.”
“We can kill him while he’s human,” Logan springs their true intent on me.
“Or I can tear him a new one while he’s incapacitated,” Gage counters.
“No!” They obviously don’t know Marshall well enough. It’s doubtful he’d stay dead to begin with. “If you would have let me kill Chloe a f
ew weeks back when I had the chance, none of this would be happening. It’s Chloe who’s the real problem, not Marshall.”
“Why are you defending him?” Gage barely gets the words out.
“Why are you defending her?”
“I’m not. I don’t want you killing anyone, Skyla. The world frowns on that in case you forgot.”
“Likewise,” I say, ducking down the stairs over to Marshall.
Snow begins to fall, light as feathers, leaving icy bites over my bare shoulders. I traverse the odd fallen branches, trying to ignore the fact my heels are sinking into snow and mud at regular intervals as I make my way over to him.
Marshall stirs and groans as he gets up on his elbows.
“Who did this?” A fire of rage ignites in him.
“I don’t know. Are you OK?”
“I’m stiff.”
I help him up as he winces in pain. His hand swipes at his waist, and the moonlight exposes a wash of blood on his fingers.
“You must have cut yourself on the way down.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” he clamps his wrist over mine. “I can’t hear your thoughts,” he winces again. “There’s only one blade that could have done this to me.” He glares openly, and for a second I’m afraid he might snap my neck like a twig. “Skyla, why in God’s name would you stab me like this?”
My mouth opens and an entire range of odd sounds escape.
“It’s because,” I look up at the empty balcony. If Marshall learns it was Gage, he’ll kill him, for sure. I let out a hard sigh. “You sent Gage that picture.”
An impish grin appears then dissipates. “You little vixen. Feisty are we?” He purrs the words out. “You’ll have to forgive me in advance. The repercussions for such actions are quite costly.”
“What?” I can already hear Ezrina’s proverbial footsteps. I’m not quite sure my decapitation will prove to be the right romantic rendezvous with Nevermore. “No, no no, if anyone deserves the brunt of your anger, it’s my roommates.” I tell him all about their not so kind speculative discussion regarding his member.
“Was Shelly involved?”
“No, Michelle was in the bathroom. I’m sure, had she heard, she would have vouched for how well endowed you are.”
Marshall tries to stand as I help him steady himself on his feet.
“I am, you know.” He rests his weight on my shoulder, hobbling forward at an irregular pace.
“Your leg is broken.”
“I’ve twisted my ankle,” he manages in gasps. “Good heavens, pain isn’t nearly as exhilarating as I imagined.”
“Nope. It’s called pain for a reason.”
“So all of this,” he motions with his hand towards his injury, “you’d really rather be with Gage?”
“Yes, is it clear now?”
He lets out a soft series of grunts as we try and make our way back to the main lodge.
“It’s becoming quite apparent.”
Marshall insists we stay on ground level as long as possible, so we cut through a narrow path in the woods. The shadowed arms of the evergreens amplify the tide of darkness rising over our heads. Sometimes I feel safest in the oppressive blank of night. Long cinder arms wrapped around me with icy solitude, no Chloe, Mom or Tad, no war, just being—existing on the lowest common denominator of life. It’s in that moment as I lay in bed just before sleep, that my mind usually strays in a thousand psychotic directions at once, that’s the one I linger in, comfortable as a hammock. It’s an even playing field for man, lying in the dark just before slumber—the possibilities of a new day looming, the mistakes from the past invisible.
A sharp growl explodes from our left, and we stop abruptly.
“What the hell was that?” I hiss.
“Fems, Skyla,” Marshall takes in a breath as though he were expecting this all along.
One by one, an entire herd of overgrown lions with humanlike faces emerge from the shadows. They surround us on all fronts, taunting us with their disfigured features, their menacing hisses.
The flutter of wings explode from above. Nevermore begins to circle the vicinity, he inspires me to do the unthinkable.
“Ezrina!” I scream her name in one lusty cry of desperation.
“What has gotten into you?”
Clearly I’ve stunned Marshall with my outlandish call to arms.
“I know what I’m doing,” I hiss. Really, I don’t, but there’s no use letting Marshall in on every little detail. Besides, if I had to choose between Ezrina hacking me to pieces or being eaten by seriously disturbing looking Fems, I’d choose Ezrina’s sharpened blade every single time.
One of the hideous beasts lands with a thump in front of us. Instinctively I kick it in the face, and he snaps down my foot before I can retract it.
My face lands hard in the dirt while it drags me deeper into the forest. I watch in horror as the rest of the creatures move in on Marshall, creating a tight circle around him.
“Injure me, and I’ll have the lot of you cast in a pack of wolves by midnight,” he barks.
They don’t seem too fazed by his rather vague threat. Instead they pounce him, one on top of the other until they create a gnashing, writhing dog pile six deep.
Shit! They’re going to crush him! He can’t freaking breathe.
Ezrina appears in all her frazzled glory, staring at me, trailing the line of my body up to the hungry Fem’s mouth.
“Save Marshall!” I point over to the pile of fur-lined flesh with his arm poking through the bottom, and she bolts over. Ezrina wields a colossal butcher knife and hacks away in a frenzy at the roaring mess of Fems.
I hope it’s not too late. I hope his skull isn’t shredded or smashed like a pancake.
My entire body glides backwards another ten feet. Shit. The earth moves beneath me at startling speeds as I lodge deeper into the dark curtain of evergreens, bumping over branches and stones in the process.
“Nev!”
Nevermore darts down from the sky, spirals into the beast like a cannon. There’s no way Nev can take on this three thousand pound mechanical bull—then, in an instant, the beast bucks and writhes. I twist my body just enough to catch a glimpse of Nev gouging out its eyes.
My leg erupts in a hard line of fire as I yank it free from the beast’s mouth.
“Skyla?” Marshall’s voice booms through the forest. I seriously hope he’s managed to keep his beautiful skull intact.
The beast leaps in the air and snatches at Nevermore, thrashing its wild jaw with the plume of ebony feathers.
I ball up against the trunk of a tree—afraid to move, watching the violent tantrum unfold before me. The beast leaps up supernaturally high and captures Nevermore by the tail.
“Nev!” It shrills out of me like a siren.
Ezrina pounces over and starts in on a hacking spree. The beast lets out a cry that sounds like a million babies screaming. The noise sets my teeth on edge as it pulsates through me.
The forest ricochets with the vibration of chopping flesh and bones—muscle and sinew, all being severed in the name of love. I can feel her passion, her anger—a primitive desperation that denotes like a gun in the face of the justice alliance. They may have submerged Ezrina and Nevermore’s love for ages, but today it popped to the surface like a cork.
Nevermore darts into the sky.
Blood—pieces of flesh and fur, liter the vicinity.
The Fem sizzles before disintegrating into one ashen heap, causing a billow of smoke to fill the forest.
Calm is restored all around us, nothing but the sound of my erratic breathing, my uneven heartbeat drumming out of tune—the scent of burned flesh.
“Are you hurt?” Marshall helps me to me feet. His face is dirty and scraped raw on one side, his lip cut and bleeding, but otherwise he’s still his stunning self.
A gasp emits in triplicate from behind.
Ezrina stands gaping into the forest with a look of absolute horror on her face.
I foll
ow her gaze to a nearby branch where Nevermore sits with an oversized eyeball hanging from his beak—perhaps not the most romantic reunion.
Then, with a loud clap, Ezrina disappears.
***
Once I settle Marshall into his room and we stop the bleeding, I head back into the party to look for Gage.
The music blares into the night, bodies twist and laugh—the crowd is so thick it’s hard to filter through all the faces.
I spot Logan near the back, leaning against the bar with Ellis and two girls. I navigate my way over to find that the two girls in question are Carly and Carson from East. I think Carly still has a thing for Brody, her baby daddy, but the gleam in Carson’s eye suggests she’s one hundred percent available and into Logan. She leans in, placing her hand on his shoulder. My stomach turns, surprising me with its visceral reaction. I don’t care about Logan, at least not like that, so I can’t have a bodily malfunction each time I see him with another girl. A part of me fights to keep our love alive but I’m working on squelching that part, even if it kills me, and judging by the hot bite of jealousy dissolving my insides, it just might.
“Where’s Gage?”
Logan pulls his lips into a line. I can tell he knows but doesn’t want to tell me.
“He’s dead,” he offers.
My heart thumps unnaturally.
“Very, not funny,” I say.
“He’s dead.” Logan repeats, cutting a half smile over to Ellis.
“He was murdered. He took off out the back.” Ellis hitches his thumb towards the side exit.
I take off—because lucky, lucky me—I was murdered, too.
Chapter Thirty-Three
You’re Dead to Me
There’s nothing better than being dead on New Year’s Eve when it means you have to be away from the crowd and sequestered alone with your boyfriend who has also met his fatal demise.
Snow floats down in steady streams, soft like powdered sugar. A wall of pine trees line the walkway with hints of an amethyst sky peeking through the branches as I move along, slipping with every third step.