Logan places his hand next to mine. The heat from his body radiates over, paralyzes me. I can’t understand why I desire his touch after everything he’s put me through.
The justice alliance requires your presence at three o’clock this afternoon—the both of you. Nev twitches from me to Logan.
“I have cheer,” it speeds out of me.
“I’ve got practice. And we both have a shift after at the bowling alley.”
Meet at a secluded location at the appointed time. I’m to escort you myself. This is not an optional event. Should you choose to forgo the invitation, your powers will be permanently revoked.
Nev takes off skyward, spearing through vapors until his ebony impression dissolves completely.
“I guess we’re going to justice alliance.” Logan expands his chest as though he were getting ready for battle.
“What did Nev mean, we could lose our powers? I didn’t think that was possible.”
“Anything is possible.” He looks off in the distance. “I’m not going to be here the rest of the afternoon. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”
“Light driving?”
“Yes,” he doesn’t hesitate with the answer.
“Are you going to the future?”
He doesn’t say anything, just circles my face with great sadness as though he were about to do something that he was already regretting.
“I’ll meet you in the parking lot,” I speed off towards class.
Maybe the justice alliance should be apprised of the fact Logan Oliver can’t be trusted.
If anyone deserves to have their powers revoked, it’s him.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Don’t Let the Door Hit You
Sixth period arrives without incident.
A stream of clouds, long and dark as caskets threaten us with a downpour, but not even a sprinkle falls to earth. It’s odd, unusual. A rather strange weather phenomenon, and I wonder if Marshall has anything to do with this.
“What’s the matter with you?” Brielle knocks into my shoulder playfully.
“Nothing.”
“You’re so edgy today.”
“I’m taking my driver’s test later this week. So, when are you and Drake going to spill the news?” I point over at the noticeable lump beneath her sweatshirt.
“Soon, I guess. His birthday is next weekend. I guess that’s a good day to do it. He mentioned something about his dad wanting to take us all out to dinner.”
“He’s going to have a heart attack.” I can’t help but smile a little. The only ray of sunshine in my day, and it involves Tad croaking. I’m a horrible person.
“He seemed pretty OK with it when he thought it was you,” she shrugs.
“That’s because he thought it was me. Does your mom know?”
“Oh, she’s known from the beginning. At first she was like, what? But now she’s bringing home baby clothes by the bagful.”
“That’s nice, I guess.”
“So, I was thinking. You know how like babies sleep in this tiny little thing before they get into a crib? How awesome would it be to have a tiny little coffin? You think I can buy one off Gage’s dad?”
“God—that’s so freaking sick!”
“It’s not sick, it’s custom. This little kid is going to be badass.”
“As in badass, Count?” The terms bad and Count, seem to go hand in hand.
“Anyway, there’s another meeting coming up. You gonna show up uninvited again?” She pushes my foot in with hers and gives a little laugh.
“Same place?”
“Yup, New Moon festival. I guess it’s not your thing, and all, but I thought if you wanted front row seats, I could at least give you the heads up.”
“Oh, right.” I look over her face—study her nervous smile. Could Brielle be trying to lure me there? Why would I want a front row seat?
Chloe calls for us to get into groups.
“Can’t wait for the big announcement,” I revert my eyes to her stomach. “I’ll ask Gage about the coffin.”
“Great!” She dusts off her bottom and heads over to Nat who’s standing there helpless. Brielle announces she’ll be bowing out of the competition because she’ll be too big to do it anyway, so Nat pairs up with Michelle.
“Let’s go Messenger,” Chloe barks.
I hop up and head over.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve killing Kate like that,” Chloe huffs into me with a challenge. “If we lose the all state competition, I want you to know, the next head that’s gonna roll is yours.”
“Is that all she was to you? A body to fill a void so you can reclaim your cheer-bot status at all state?”
“She wasn’t just a body, Skyla. You are just a body. She actually knew what she was doing with mechanical precision that could only be quantified as skill. Something, I might add, you sorely lack. To make it brief and simple for that little blonde head of yours, she was good. You suck. Get it?”
“Yeah, I get it.” I catch Brielle waving to me from the benches, and I raise my fingers in her direction. “So, you going to the big New Moon festival coming up?”
Chloe snaps her neck over at me as though I’ve caught her off guard.
“What’s it to you?”
“Nothing, I just thought you were a Celestra, that’s all. I guess you’re a turncoat like Logan. It makes perfect sense, I mean you were at the stone of death that day I accidentally ended up there.”
“Accidentally?” She balks at the prospect. “Dear stupid, Skyla. Let me be the one to inform you, with pleasure, that nothing happens by accident anymore in your world. You are a puppet of the highest order.” She pokes her finger hard into my chest.
Marshall strides onto the field and heads over towards Ms. Richards.
Something is about to happen—I can feel it. Maybe Chloe is going to attempt to beat the crap out of me and he’ll forcibly remove her from my person.
“I guess you’re right,” I say. “But I guess that goes for you, too. You’re being used. Your destiny is being guided, or should I say misguided just like the rest of us. You’ll never get what you really want because Gage is mine, and he always will be.”
Chloe takes the bait, knocking me back onto the lawn with one ferocious push. She lands on my stomach with all her weight until I think my spinal cord has snapped from the impact.
I can’t breathe. Something cold and heavy lands on my chest. Chloe picks it up and marvels at it before I can properly access what it is. She gawks at it as though it appeared from nowhere.
It’s the spirit sword. Shit!
She raises it over me with a smug look of satisfaction.
Marshall lifts her up by the shoulder, snatching the blade from her hand.
“Chloe!” Ms. Richards shouts. “You know we have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to weapons.”
“I’ll escort Ms. Bishop to Principal Rice immediately,” Marshall gives a sly smile in my direction.
“It’s not mine!” Chloe pulls away from Marshall in one aggressive maneuver. “It’s Messenger’s.”
“It’s not mine.” Technically Gage is the one who’s been housing it. Unless, of course, it’s Marshall’s, and judging by the fact both he and the sword mysteriously appeared on the field simultaneously, I’m betting it’s his.
“You were aiming it right at her chest after you knocked her to the ground. I saw the whole thing,” Ms. Richards covers her face with her hand.
“I swear I don’t know where it came from. It belongs to Messenger.”
“We’ll test your defense with the administration,” Marshall offers, trying to coax her along.
“Skyla, did you feel threatened by Chloe?” Ms. Richards desperately wants to find a ray of light, still holding out hope for that coveted all state trophy.
“No,” I look nervously to Marshall. If Chloe is expelled, I’ll be expected to perform, and I’m not talking all state.
“It’s too bad that you’re so afraid of Ms. Bishop that you
feel the need to lie to preserve your safety,” Marshall grabs Chloe by the wrist.
I know Skyla’s afraid, but we made a deal, and she’s going to uphold her end of the bargain. I’ll be gentle with her—or not. He gives a devious smile in my direction. Clearly he wanted Chloe to hear those things.
Chloe’s mouth falls open at the revelation.
Holy freaking shit. He’s like a loose cannon.
Chloe steps forward. She holds out her hand as though offering a peace treaty.
“I’m really sorry.”
I shake her hand, waiting for the verbal assault.
I’m impressed with what lengths you’ve taken to get rid of me. Employing your Sector friend to do your dirty work? And what, pray tell, does he plan on being gentle with? Do I dare guess? I’ll be sure to go over the possibilities later with Gage.
I watch as Marshall takes her off the field.
That good time ended all too quickly.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Justice for All
Nevermore sits atop Logan’s shoulder when I finally locate him near the back of the parking lot. I managed to avoid Gage on the way over—afraid I might spill about Chloe or the fact that I have to take off because I’m going on a light drive with Logan. I’m not even sure if this qualifies as a light drive since time is of no value where we’re going. With my luck, fifty years will have passed by the time we get back. That’s probably part of the punishment. How would I explain that to my mom? That’s a million times worse than having a time bomb in your belly that morphs into a baby in nine months. I’m almost envious of Brielle and her oh, so humanlike problems. Why am I always the one with supernatural entities that demand my attention? I’d love to blame Logan for all my troubles—Logan, who dragged me into that whole shoot ‘em up with a high-powered weapon fiasco. And now we’re going to pay. Big time.
Nev hops over to my shoulder.
“Nice try traitor,” I say, sarcastically.
The boy is enamored with you. Nevermore expands his wings as though he were saluting our love.
“The feelings are not reciprocated.”
Hold hands and make nice. We’re going for a little ride, he instructs.
I take up Logan’s hand without asking, and the world fades to black.
***
Lights flicker—a rainbow quivers then retracts.
Logan and I appear sitting on a thick blue lawn—blades thick as fingers. A breath gets caught in my throat as I take in the beauty around us. A bold cobalt sky, an effervescent light shines like a mist, exposing a lush green cliff with a waterfall. Behind that, in the distance, sits another cliff-side with its own sparkling fall. It gives a two-tiered effect, as both empty into a stunning lake below.
“So beautiful,” I’m still holding Logan’s hand as I point over to it.
“Ahava,” he exhales the name.
There’s a light feeling in the air, as though instinctually I know we’re safe, that no harm can come to us here.
“You’ve been here?” I turn to look at him. “Is this where your supervising spirit takes you?”
“Briefly.”
“So you’re memorizing the lay of the land.” I’m glad. I’d rather have Logan’s help, albeit questionable at times. I’d love to leave Marshall’s tongue out of the equation for once. Just the thought of the wheels I’ve put into motion make my head want to explode. I’ve already let Chloe win by putting my relationship with Gage on the line so haphazardly.
“The faction war is fought outside these walls. You have a long way to go and many Counts to remove before you can ever hope to set foot here again.”
“You know everything.” I take in his subtle gray highlights, the crows feet evenly dispersed on either side. I pull his hand over to me and study it, white as a leopard. Logan’s light drives have been well documented by the inter-dimensional passport stamped on the back of his hand—nothing but bleached flesh. “You’re never honest with me, and you’re always one step ahead of the game. How could you ever expect me to trust you?” I mean it from the deepest part of me. On some level, I wish I had old Logan back, even if he was just a delusion.
“I wasn’t a delusion. And I promise, I’m still fighting this war for us, Skyla.”
“Maybe this is a good time to remind you—I’m marrying Gage, and you’ve switched sides.”
“You don’t have to remind me. I’m reminded every day.”
“If you tell me everything, Logan, and I mean everything,” I let the words trail, “we can be a team again.” Heat rises to my cheeks. It feels safe to admit my feelings to him here, the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.
“You still love me,” he exhales a breath as though he were holding it forever.
I look down a moment, still afraid to admit it. “Start from the beginning.” I want to know him from the inside out. Logan has become a blank canvas. I desperately want to see the picture of what he’s become, who he’s been all along. I want all of the details of how he grafted himself onto the enemy in the name of our love.
“I can’t tell you,” his eyes glitter as he shakes his head.
I take back my hand.
“Sometimes, I wish I never knew you, Logan.”
The sky darkens. A mass of smoky clouds pulls across the sky, angry and boiling. The temperature drops, and the grass below our feet frosts over.
My teeth begin to chatter. Logan pulls me in and warms my arm with his hand. A loud noise shreds through the air. The atmosphere screams and vibrates as if it were sawing itself in half. Four figures appear, standing over the lake. They each take a seat on a chair that’s either too small to see or simply isn’t there. One of the four is my mother. Her smile renews the joy in this newly desolate place, warms me from the inside until I no longer need Logan wrapped around me like a sheath. The man to her right has long black hair and wears an eye patch. He looks vaguely familiar until it clicks.
“He’s the one who started the war in my name,” I whisper mostly to myself. “Chloe has his eye.”
The other two are exceptionally good-looking men, bereft of any flaw, with wings so large they conceal the waterfalls behind them. That’s what Marshall would look like if he had wings—sublime in every way.
My mother smiles. “We can hear your thoughts, Skyla,” she says it with the required benevolence necessary for someone in her esteemed position. “Look to the heavens. What do you see?”
A brilliant light appears. I turn into Logan’s chest as though I might be blinded by the initial flash.
“It’s OK,” he whispers.
I look up with caution. An image appears—an eagle with the chest of a man.
“It’s from my vision,” I mean from the crazy hallucination I had when I swallowed Michelle’s rose, but I leave that part out. The image morphs into an ox with a chest of man. This one looks scary, far more menacing than the bird—and finally, a lion with a human body. He clutches something in his hand. It looks like fire, as if he were holding something impossible in his fingers, yet it doesn’t burn him.
Logan wraps both arms around me, inhaling the scent of my hair from behind. I can feel his need to consume me. He’s chiseled out a crater in his existence that only I can fill. It feels dangerous like this with Logan.
“One more,” my mother redirects my attention skyward.
“It’s me.” I say, plainly. I stare up at myself, radiant and glowing, just like the vision Marshall gave me a while back. I still can’t believe that I could ever look that beautiful. It’s celestial photoshopping at its best.
“You’re beautiful.” Logan breathes the words out like a melody.
“What does any of that mean?” I look at the council seated before us.
“It is the allegory of your future.” My mother rises. “I’m going to share it with you now.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
The Powers That Be
“The eagle is your protector on this journey,” my mother’s voice booms clear and high, like hi
tting the edge of a fine crystal glass with a knife. “The ox is representative of hard service, a laborer on your behalf,” she pauses, evaluating me as I anticipate her description of Logan the lying lion. “Yes, Skyla, Logan is the lion. Would you like to try to guess his role?”
“One who deceives through false leadership?” I’m fairly certain of this.
I hear a gasp come from behind. I turn around to see Giselle seated on a boulder not too far away.
“No,” my mother corrects, “the lion, Skyla, represents power. If you’re not careful, it can devour you.”
“So it’s true. I can’t trust him.”
His hands secure to my waist, hard, like claws that have adhered to my clothing.
“Trust is a word humans dangle in front of one another as a threat to get what they want. Trust only your heart.”
I don’t want to offend her, but she’s really good at the nebulous circle talk.
“No offense taken. Shall we move on with the proceedings?” She collapses a gavel on an invisible surface that sends an explosion of sound reverberating through my bones. “Barbaric actions were displayed by the two of you. I admonish the use of such savage instruments. Furthermore, I don’t approve of going against the protocol of the faction leaders. What made you decide to proceed with your own unique brand of justice?”
If Gage were here, I’d absorb the blame, after all it does belong to me.
I bring my fingers up to my lips. I didn’t mean to drag Gage into this.
“Gage is exempt for now,” my mother drills into me. “The spirit sword is an approved means of warfare. Do you understand that, Logan? It was wrong for you to initiate the torment you did.”
“He’s one of them now,” I was going to think it anyway, and besides, they must already know he’s a Count.
The man with an eye patch gurgles out a laugh that sounds like thunder. I remember his name, Rothello.
“Logan,” he growls out his name, “has cast his lot into the realm of the Countenance. We shall see how long he lasts, how far his devotion is willing to take him.” He bares his teeth just this side of a smile. Something about him reminds me of Pierce.