“Shit!” I pull the covers up over our heads as Mom pokes her head in.
“Skyla Laurel Messenger! Downstairs right now, you, too, Mister!”
Gage groans into the pillow.
This is shaping up to be a real shitty day.
Gage and I file downstairs fully clothed just the way they found us or would have had they attempted to pluck the comforter off my bed. We head into the family room with our hair combed back, presentable, not all disheveled as though we just woke up from a wild romp like Brielle and Drake or Holden and his pussycat dolls. Gah! There are three of them now. God—they left and brought back a friend. What kind of superpowers does he have, anyway?
“Ladies and gentlemen of the peanut gallery,” Tad employs his official I’m-the-asshole-of-this house tone, “you are now free to exit the red light district of Paragon. Would you be so kind as to show yourselves to the door, make yourselves scarce, and never the enter the premises of this love shack again.”
“Excuse me?” Brielle points to her baby bump.
“Just go home, Hon,” Mom bats her away.
My fault. I should have never closed my eyes. Sorry, I’ll make it up to you. Gage gives my hand a quick squeeze before following the girls out the door.
It’s not his fault. It’s Chloe’s. If she hadn’t used her sorcery to bind some keep-Gage-away-from-Skyla spirit around the house, none of this would have ever happened.
“What on God’s earth can we punish you kids with?” Tad throws his hands up in defeat.
“We’ll get creative,” Mom nods in my direction as though it were me she was gunning for. “Get ready for school. We should have something worked out by the time you get home.”
“I know it looks bad, but we didn’t do anything, I swear.” I try to quell her disappointment.
She motions me upstairs with the flick of a finger.
Everything in her screams, I don’t believe you.
When I finally do have sex with Gage, I won’t have to worry about feeling guilty. I’m already paying the price.
***
Logan is under a three day suspension for his brawl in the hall, otherwise I would have cornered him and told him all about Demetri, the exploding Fem.
Nevertheless, I skip cheer practice for court, which I’m escorted to by both Mom and Tad. Gage shows up as a means of support. It’s intimidating here, staring at the judge in a mahogany paneled courtroom as he glosses over my paperwork.
“Ms. Messenger,” his elongated face is accentuated with matching pillow-like bags beneath his eyes. The way he says my name sounds far less provocative, in contrast to Marshall who breathes it out with lust driven fire. “You have the option of serving three nights in the county jail or working your time off through community service. Which do you prefer?” His sad eyes drag over me, red with fatigue.
“I’ll do the service. Thank you.” I’d donate various body parts if he wanted me to as long as I didn’t have to step into a jail cell, ever. That’s one way I don’t plan on losing my virginity. Just the thought of prison sex makes Marshall’s offer more and more palatable. I could probably get him to up the ante and make me queen of the world if I wanted—although he did offer me dominion, which would make me queen of two worlds to be exact, if you count the ethereal plane.
“So it shall be,” the judge sounds it out soberly. “In addition to one hundred hours of community service, I charge you a penalty fee of five hundred dollars. You may be dismissed.” He sounds his gavel.
One hundred hours? In an orange jumpsuit, picking up trash on the side of the road while Chloe drives back and forth with Gage? Of course, she’ll have the bitch squad join in on the fun, heck an entire parade of kids from West will drive by to capture the new wallpaper for their phones. I hate this.
“Looks like you got off pretty easy,” Gage comes over and gives a hesitant smile because he knows I didn’t.
I pull him in and bump my nose to his trying to stave off tears from the trauma of the whole ordeal.
“You may now kiss the bride,” the judge booms with sarcasm. He points hard to the door in an effort to make us disappear.
“I love you,” I whisper to Gage just before I sneak in a quick kiss.
Gage solidifies like a statue. His face turns a strange ashen grey. His eyes dull out unnaturally as though he were looking at something horrific and he were too startled to speak.
“Wait,” I point a finger towards the judge. “You don’t think,” I don’t bother finishing the sentence.
I don’t care what just happened. I’m marrying Gage in a courthouse one day because I’ll be damned if he was wrong about that one.
***
I sulk in the back of the car on the way home with Mom and Tad.
I’m thankful justice has landed me on the right side of the penitentiary, and I still get to choose who I lose my virginity to, but still, lackluster about that whole jumpsuit thing. And I can’t even think about Gage’s prophecy coming true at an untimely moment. God, that was so weird and uncalled for. I had pinned my entire future on what Gage had told me. Of course, I still believe I’m marrying Gage. This was just a coincidence—only, too bad I’ve recently stopped believing in those.
I watch the trees whir by in a blur, the dark clouds in the sky drift by at dizzying speeds. Nev glides by, then slows down until we’re coasting down the road in tandem.
Nevermore went against the faction council for Ezrina and their love, and now he’s forever imprisoned in fragile bones, feathers—eats worms and sleeps in the cold harsh elements. I straighten a little at the epiphany. I wonder what punishment the justice alliance will pass down to Logan and me?
I look back up at Nev as he soars like the majestic creature he is. Who knew that Ezrina and I were so likeminded? And she’s a Celestra no less, or was. I can’t bear the thought of working shoulder to shoulder with Ezrina forever. Maybe that’s why Gage thought I would live to a ripe old age? I’ll be immortalized as a monster for all eternity while he carries out his courthouse fantasy with someone else. Hopefully I can rely on some good old-fashioned nepotism, and my mom won’t have the heart to turn me into a frazzled old witch. Nevertheless, she said my punishment would be embedded in the infrastructure of the war. Little does she know, the ultimate punishment waits until the end of the war—the heartache of wrenching Logan’s heart out one final time, already I know I have to.
“Skyla?” Mom turns around. Sorrow and pity clot up her expression. “We’ve settled on a punishment.” I’m about to cannonball into a bottomless pit of dejection I can feel it. “No going out for two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” It might have sounded like a protest, but, really, I’m astounded at the leniency.
“That includes winter formal.” She gives me that you-brought-this-on-yourself look, before turning around.
“OK.” There’s no way I’m missing winter formal. I’d die knowing Gage was there with Chloe while I sat home, crying in my pillow.
I pull out a curl from behind my neck—straighten it over and over while looking up at the sad girl in my reflection. I take my finger and trace a butterfly onto the foggy glass, give a dry smile.
Of course, I’m going to sneak out.
Of course, I’ll never fess up to any of my butterfly room jailbreaks to my mother.
How can I ever expect her to trust me when all I ever do is lie?
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Dress to Impress
I’m more than surprised by Drake and Holden’s reaction to the two-week incarceration. First, they should be glad it’s house arrest. As someone who just experienced a significant brush with the law and almost spent three days and three nights in the belly of the jail, I consider Mom and Tad’s anemic form of discipline a joke.
Holden lets out a moan and tips over the dining room table in an uncalled for fit of rage. He growls like a bear as he seizes a chair, knocking the back legs into the china cabinet until it shatters as he continues to bash and thrash the place. The rest
of us are smart enough to take cover in the hall and yet stupid enough to linger and watch the train-wreck unfold. Thank God Melissa and Mia are safely tucked away at Marshall’s while this fury unleashes.
Holden laughs up a storm while enticing Tad with twitching fingers just before he spins the chandelier at supersonic speeds.
“Come on, Pops,” Holden shouts it like a battle cry. “Whatcha gonna do?”
Tad circles him like a wrestler before jumping him from behind. They roll around the shattered glass until their skin is pricked with glittery shards, and long striations of blood drizzle down their flesh.
Mom calls 911in a panic.
“He’s insane!” She bellows between spouting off her name and address. “Skyla,” she covers the receiver with her hand, “pick up the girls and take them to a movie once their lessons are over. There’s no way in hell I want them to see this mess.” Her entire body sags, “What are we going to do about him?”
“I don’t know.” But I have a feeling it’s nothing a little strychnine won’t cure.
***
I find Marshall behind his house shooting arrows at a target hundreds of yards away with stunning accuracy. An icy wind cuts through my jacket, mocking me for trying to stave off its efforts to begin with.
“Fantastic,” I say. It comes out laced with sarcasm.
He lifts his bow into the air and shoots one off, barely missing Nevermore.
“You!” I slap his arm. “Don’t even joke like that.” I watch as Nev circles the two of us, challenging Marshall and his expert marksmanship.
“The justice alliance delayed my punishment,” I say, placing my backpack on the damp field.
“So they have. Consider yourself warned, they have a fondness for animals. I’ve put in a request to have you transferred into an equine—waterfowl for the pretty Oliver. Does that sound just to you? I could house you right here on the property. You’d hardly lack company. We’d be inseparable. I’ll ride you every day. Oh, how I’ll ride you,” he winks before letting an arrow sail across the field.
“Not funny.” I circle over to his side and watch as an army of charcoal clouds etch themselves into the sky. “So did you hear? Logan lost his Celestra abilities because I requested it.”
He pauses before discharging another arrow. “I’ll kiss you full on the mouth for that later.” He rockets one off to the extreme end of the property, striking a rabbit bolting across the path. We watch as it jumps and fidgets to its death.
“That’s horrible!”
“That’s not horrible, Love, that’s dinner.”
“That’s sick.”
“Would a squirrel better suit your appetite?”
“No. Speaking of vermin, I found out Chloe poisoned Emerson with strychnine.”
“Good work,” Marshall pants a smile. “I suspect a detective agency is in your future. You and the Olivers can bumble around the island masquerading as full time sleuths.”
“I’d rather be a Fem fighter.”
“You already are.” Marshall dips into me and lands a kiss on my cheek.
“I know Demetri’s a Fem,” I put it out there to see what he does with it.
“Heavens—graduating the junior detective league so soon. Gone pro already, have we?”
“So, I’m right?” I jump a little.
“Do try to contain your enthusiasm.”
He positions the bow in my hands and helps me draw the string until it’s taut near my cheek. I can feel the heft, the tension as strong as life and death—fighting one another for a convicted soul, as powerful as my love-hate for Logan—and we release. It feels so, good, so easy to let go. I watch as the arrow streamlines its way through the fog, cutting a clean line into the already crowded bull’s eye.
“Well done.” Marshall pats my back. “Who was the victim of your rage?”
“I don’t have any rage.”
“Nonsense, I could feel it pulsating out of you.” He whips another arrow from over his shoulder and helps me string the bow, only this time he makes me hold it myself. “You must become the master of your enemy. The faction war hinges on such details.”
“How do I master the enemy?” My muscles shake as I stretch the bow taut, waiting for his response.
“You kill them.”
“I kill them. What if I don’t want to kill them?” My muscles ache as I try to steady my aim.
“They kill you.” Even the warmth of his breath sends a pleasure-filled sensation throughout my being. “But this one,” he taps a finger towards the target, “this one’s personal. Look at him there, he’s sneering over at you. He’s fooled you into loving him, and now you’re going to kill him. Who is he?”
Marshall wants to hear his name fumble from my lips, so I launch the arrow and give him the pleasure.
“Logan.” My chest rises and falls in spasms as I anticipate the accuracy of my aim. The arrow misses the tree entirely and lands somewhere in the bushes off to the right. “I could never kill, Logan,” I whisper. Not even if I wanted to.
“That might be your downfall.” He pulls me in, offering a tender kiss that is neither intrusive nor greedy. A vision appears, it’s Logan and me. He tells me he loves me more than the heavens love the sun and the moon and pulls me into a kiss much like the one Marshall has delivered.
I pull away and wipe my lips with the back of my hand.
“That will never happen,” I spit out the words.
“In a way, it already has.”
Marshall and I head inside, me with the newfound sore shoulder and he with his dinner.
“So I’ve been thinking,” I say, jumping up on his kitchen counter and taking a seat, “was Ethan Landon ordained to die?”
“I should say not.” Marshall begins to do things to the poor rabbit that I never want to see, so I turn around and face the other way. “Stabbed years before his time.”
“That’s horrible.” I try not to wretch from the stench of the bloody carcass. “So, I was thinking—”
“No, Sklya,” he cuts me off.
“But Holden’s a disaster, and he’s been drinking strychnine-tainted blood, tragedy is bound to unfold. Besides, poor Melissa is heartbroken over what an ass her brother’s become. Certainly, you have a heart.”
“Of course I have a heart. I’m holding it in my hand. Would you like to see it?”
“No.”
The faucet twists on and off at regular intervals.
“I suppose,” Marshall starts in slow, “if Holden upsets the physical framework he’s confined in, he won’t be able to stay much longer,” he says matter-of-factly while bolting around the kitchen.
I turn to find him armed with a frying pan and a stick of butter. Marshall has gone Iron Chef on poor Thumper.
“So, if Holden does accidentally off himself, you can put Ethan back where he belongs?” I’m not sure if I’ll be getting a better deal, but, for sure Melissa will.
“Precisely. I’ll do this for you under one condition.”
“Yes?”
“Don the angel wings.” He swirls the pan into a sizzle. “Consider it an addendum to our carnal commitment.”
“Not a problem.”
“Great,” he pauses to turn up the heat on the stove, “Your gown for the formal is tucked safe in my closet. I don’t trust it anywhere but here. Understand this, and listen to me well, Skyla—I’m to be the first person you lay those saccharin lips on while wearing the charmed sheath.” He stares into me with great intensity until I give in with a nod. “I expect you’ll arrive in a timely manner. I plan on soaking in the evening before we retire to my suite. I’ll have the wings ready.”
I swallow hard.
I have a feeling I’ll be wearing the wings and very little else.
If I don’t find another means to get Chloe off my back by then—I don’t see any other way.
“Don’t look so despondent. We’ve somewhere to go.”
“Now? Where?”
“Your mother requests your presence.
”
***
“Skyla!” My mother radiates, bright as the sun, she steals the glory from the foliage around her, makes the unnaturally gorgeous landscape of Ahava look two dimensional, flat and stale as a black and white portrait.
I wrap my arms around her, and she strums a wonderful tuning feeling through me, so pure and lovely it makes Marshall’s vibrations feel like a lewd encounter with a downed power line.
“Rules of engagement, Skyla.” She drops a kiss on the top of my head. “That’s why I’ve called you. Marshall has made you aware of the fact there will be twelve regions to cross before advancing to Ahava?”
“Yes, before I get here,” I nod, “and, I remember what you said about the sword of the Master.” I’m secretly hoping she’ll give me some special key that will unlock a backdoor to this place. And one for the chest that holds the, oh-so-special sword, wouldn’t be a bad idea either.
“No, I have no key,” she whispers knowingly. “I want to make it clear to you, that it is I, along with the justice alliance, who selects when you appear in the ethereal plane.”
“Um, OK, but I have school and cheer, and I’m sort of shy in the shower, so maybe don’t choose then either.”
She gives a bubbling laugh. “Whatever you’re doing on earth ceases. You could spend months in the ethereal plane and not a millisecond would go by on earth.”
“Each region is going to take months?” I’m horrified by this.
“Heaven’s no. Some will only take minutes. It’s entirely up to you.”
“Or me,” Marshall pipes up. I gasp when I see him. Marshall is beyond resplendent.
“Is this what you really look like?” Young and gorgeous, so absolutely godlike I fight the urge to bow down to him. I don’t remember him looking this way in Sectorville—the Soulennium.
“Ahava is radiating through me,” he confesses. “You’re a sight to behold, yourself.” He digs into his pocket and retrieves three metal discs. I recognize them from the ski trip when I was riffling through his bag.